14 June 2012 (Thursday) - Stuff

On Monday I blogged that we'd left wet tents standing after the weekend's camp. On Tuesday I whinged that the rain had stopped us getting the tents dry. Yesterday the weather was wonderful; and today it wasn't bad. It's rather frustrating knowing that dry tents are sitting in a field and we're not able to do anything with them. Here's hoping they stay dry till the weekend.

Here's a thought.... I browse the web using Firefox. Because I like it. Other people use other browsers. I believe that this blog is readable in all of them. If it's not, then there's not a lot I can do about it. But as websites evolve, some of the older browsers are having trouble keeping up. An Australian on-line retailer has now started adding a fee onto all transactions made on its site using Internet Explorer 7. It costs them money to make their website work on antique browsers, and they want to recoup that money. Personally I'd rather have a website with a few less bells and whistles that actually works....

And I'll end today with an ethical dilemma. More and more carnivorous plants are turning vegetarian. Is this a triumph for the vegetarians in that less animals are getting scoffed; or a triumph for the meat-eaters like me who see a carnivorous plant going vegetarian as being akin to scoring an own goal...?

13 June 2012 (Wednesday) - Justice...?

The electronic age is wonderful. Through Friends Reunited, Facebook, ICQ, Yahoo, email and the like I keep in touch with people I've known for years. There are some people with whom I squabble daily, some not so often.

There is one old friend from school with whom I've been in touch over the net for some years now. Sometimes we message each other on a weekly basis. Sometimes years go past between communications. He had a hankering to be an actor; doing ghost walks in Hastings Old Town. He was in a Typhoo Tea TV advert playing the part of a dancing train guard. And on stage he actually has been the very model of a modern major-general.

Today that chap is the subject of gossip on my old school's Facebook page. I couldn't believe the news. He has gone to prison for five years; having apparently defrauded a local firm of the best part of a million quid. I remember the bloke in question very well. Even as a teenager he was a true gentleman. In many ways old before his time, he was a leading light in his local community. He was on the committee of the social club my brother goes to.

Surely that story couldn't be true.

So I did a little finding out. And saw that the damning report came from the police's own website. And, as is always the case, to coin a phrase "quis custodiet ipsos custodes." A more balanced report of the whole sorry tale is given by the local newspaper. My old mucker had done wrong. A little wrong. A small wrong. He'd temporarily "borrowed money" from his employer to help out a friend who was in difficulties; with every intention of giving the money back. But people far more unscrupulous than he found out what he had done, and blackmailed him into stealing more money from that employer over a period of some years.

And so he got caught, and he went to prison. Interestingly neither the local newspaper nor the police website make any mention of what happened to the blackmailers.

I've blogged about miscarriages of justice before.... I shall drop the chap a line. Maybe not as often as I've written to prisons in the past; ink and stamps aren't cheap in this new world order.

But I shall send him a letter. And some stamps too. There's not much that I can do for him, but I can do that much.....

12 June 2012 (Tuesday) - Change of Plan

Yesterday the weather forecast for today was glorious. So the plan was to go back to the farm this morning to do a little maintenance on the communal mess tent and to put away dry tents. There had even been talk of replacing gas canisters and rewarding ourselves afterwards with a fry-up or a cinema trip. But I woke to find it had been raining overnight and there was little chance of a break in the weather. So we left the tents where they were; still in the rain. Hopefully they will still be there in a few days' time.

And instead of sticking with the plan, I got on with the ironing, and did a few small paintings for the stall I shall be running on Sunday at the Psychic Fair. They aren't the best paintings in the world, but bearing in mind it's Father's Day this weekend there are a lot worse things you could buy for your old man than an original oil painting at knock-down bargain basement prices.

After lunch with the rain having slackened off to a mere monsoon I went out and delivered seventy catalogues full of bargains to an unsuspecting public. And whilst doing so I had a thought. Quite a few of my loyal readers are into camping and caravanning, and spend a small fortune on various accessories from camping and outdoor shops. If you click on the link above labelled "Stuff for Sale" and have a look at the first link there, you'll find all sorts of things which would be incredibly useful in your camp kitchens and for camping in general. And cheaper than you'd pay in the camping shops too (!)

And so home, where I got another five gallons of beer into the barrel ready for camping. (I suppose given notice I could supply beer for camping too!) This lot is in readiness for the kite festival in Brighton.... if I go(!)

Much as I do like the festival at Brighton, it looks like the availability of water might be a serious issue this time.

In the past we've got water from a toilet block a few hundred yards from where we camp. We have two forty-litre containers which we empty and re-fill several times each day. Each time involving a trip to the toilet block (easy enough) and a trip back up the hill to camp (hard work!)

Over this last year the toilet block had been burned down; this year water will come from about four times the distance away. And during the daytime there's no vehicle movement allowed on site (for obvious reasons). It's not fair to expect the ladies or those under the doctor with knacked shoulders to do the heavy lifting and carrying. Others of our contingent have refused point-blank to fetch the water because it's heavy. I've guesstimated that each water run will take me about forty minutes; and I shall be doing three runs a day. I don't fancy lugging water over the distances involved, but I expect I shall end up doing so. I'll dragoon the Rear Admiral into assisting.

We won't be doing all the washing up if that is the case though.... that job will fall to those who've turned down the option to lug water....

11 June 2012 (Monday) - Home Again

Normally at camp I go fishing when I wake at silly o'clock. But with no pond on site this hadn't happened so far this weekend. The Rear Admiral had suggested that he set his alarm for 5am and that we got a couple of hours fishing in. I was game, and was dressed and standing waiting outside his tent when his alarm went off.

We were at the pond and fishing by 5.15am. We stayed for a couple of hours; catching a dozen between us. But the fishing was slow, and it was a cold morning so we went back to camp. Me to generally start packing away my own gear, the Rear Admiral to his bed.

One of the disadvantages of camping at organised events and festivals is that there are deadlines for getting off of the camping fields. At such a festival we would expect to be packed away and driving off of the field by 11am. Being on "home ground" we had no such urgency and were still cooking brekkie at 11am this morning. and as the rain started we realised another advantage of camping on our own turf - we can leave wet tents up indefinitely. There is no need to take wet canvas home to try to dry it later.

With the cars packed we set off home. Or tried to set off home. My car wouldn't start. I felt sick with worry; it's been a good car over the years. But a jump start did wonders. The consensus of opinion was that not having started the engine since Thursday and having been in and out of the car for all sorts of things, the internal lights had been on far too much and the battery had gone flat. I was reliably informed that the drive home would charge the battery.

I got home. Let's hope the car starts tomorrow.

In the meantime I'm missing the cows's constant moo-ing. There's photos of the weekend's camp here and here

10 June 2012 (Sunday) - Hunting and ....

With the wind having subsided to nothing overnight it might have been possible to have got some kip; but for whoever it was shooting shotguns in the distance from 4am onwards. So I again got up, pootled, and fell asleep in "Brown and Smelly". I was woken by the sound of a car arriving at 9.15am. "My Boy ^TM" and the So-Fudge-Possee had come back for another day. I was really pleased that they had. I've been trying to convince him to come camping for years. Hopefully he's getting to see it my way now.

With most people emerging from their pits we had a spot of brekkie. In a novel break with tradition I did some of the cooking. And with washing up done, "My Boy ^TM" produced a tin of sweetcorn. He was feeling good about fishing - we could try again. So we did. We had a handful of tiddlers each; nothing special. And then the Rear Admiral caught a whopper. Four and a half pounds is probably not huge when compared to those that "proper carp anglers" go for, but for a duck pond that was only dug out ten years ago it was quite impressive.

Back to camp where we made sure that the pups were secured safely, and we spent a pleasant afternoon playing "Hunting and Killing with Jimbo and Ned". The girls supervised the air rifles; I tried (and failed) to look knowledgeable with archery gear. Eventually the rain put paid to our fun, so we retreated into "Brown and Smelly" where we played Hangman.

As the afternoon wore on so people had to leave us. There are so many people in my life that I don't see anywhere near enough of. Parting was sad; a shame that people had to go, but the next camping trip isn't that long away.

Tea - fajitas. A camp favourite. Usually on one of the first nights. For a change we had it on the last night. Very nice. And as the washing up was finished and the So-Fudge-Possee sailed off into the distance we got out the Blokus. And we found the missing bottles of port. It got messy. I went to bed shortly after midnight but was reliably informed that the party was still going at 2am...

9 June 2012 (Saturday) - Bit Less Wind

I had a mild guts ache this morning which woke me rather earlier than everyone else woke. After my morning ablutions I sat in "Brown and Smelly" and felt quite at one with the peace and tranquillity of the world. Irene woke me two hours later.

My phone rang - "My Boy ^TM" wanted directions to where we were camping, so I walked up to the road to find him. He arrived with a carful, and the four of them joined us for a spot of brekkie. Fudge seemed particularly excitable, and some dog-training lessons were started whilst some of us went off fishing. It would have been nice to have had a fishing pond on site, but there was one at the farm which was only five minutes drive away. We arrived at the farm to find a visitor had come to the wrong camp site; so we imparted directions and then had a pleasant couple of hours drowning maggots. "My Boy ^TM" eventually managed to catch two fish, which was two more than anyone else caught today.

With the novelty of standing by a pond fast wearing off we made our way back to camp where the O'Latas had arrived to visit. With our numbers swelled to over twenty on site we had an enjoyable lunch of cream cakes, and then got the kites out. The wind had subsided from yesterday's hurricanes to a mere tornado, and we played with power kites and delta kites and one lined kites and all sorts. The NASA power kite wasn't right. I had a theory, so we brought the thing down and measured the lines against each other. I was right: the lines had stretched. But all had not stretched equally. There was a good eight inches difference between longest and shortest lines. Ideally the lines should be no more than a millimetre different. We lined up the lines, re-strung the kite, had another go and again failed miserably. Untangling the bridling worked wonders, and I even went so far as to get my harness out to have a go with the power kite: it's been a while since I had my harness out. It was fun. "Daddies Little Angel ^TM" had a go with the kite and nearly knacked herself. It's easy to forget that power kites are not children's toys and they do bite.

Tea was excellent - chicken and bacon pasta. I am always happy to wash up at camp when someone else is cooking up such excellent food. And we spent a few hours playing Jenga whist drinking a wonderful orange-coloured passion fruit flavoured 25% abv jollop. Very nice. A drop of port would have been nice at that point. We had at least two bottles in the kitchen. After an hour we gave up looking they had vanished. Which was probably for the best as we staggered to our beds at midnight.

8 June 2012 (Friday) - Wind

Not a good night - the winds were terrible, and I lay awake for most of the night listening for the sounds of tents blowing away. I eventually got up about 6.30am, did my morning ablutions in the rain, and went round all of the tents checking guys and peggings. And I raided some rope from the farm and lashed the frame of "Brown and Smelly" to our forty litre water containers just to hold the thing down a bit better - the winds were that bad.

Having run myself ragged I sat down for a few minutes, and woke an hour or so later. People started getting up shortly after 9am, and after a leisurely brekkie (which wasn't over until gone 11am) we moved some of the tents so that they would be less wind-battered; the wind was still blowing at seemingly hurricane force.

"Daddies Little Angel ^TM" then had a driving lesson. The car concerned probably now needs new suspension; it was bouncing about the field quite impressively. And as Lisa arrived I tried the first pint from the barrel that I'd brewed for the occasion. Not too bad, really. Quite successful for home brew really. It washed down a light lunch quite nicely. And then a particularly strong gust of wind brought the toilet tent down. Three guy ropes snapped. Fortunately the stuff in the bucket stayed contained in the bucket, but for a while it was all quite exciting.

To calm my nerves I had another pint, and the girls got the air rifles out and took pot shots at various inanimate targets until Irene and Terry arrived. With the wind still excessive, all hands were needed on deck to put their tent up. Irene was sporting a very demure "Hello Kitty" T-shirt and somehow this sparked the comment that "Tits are horny". It was as well for humanity at large that I was there to take a moral stance.

The last of the residential campers arrived, and we had a spot of tea - curry. Very nice. Very tasty. And with tea scoffed, washing up done and collapsed campers put to bed we had a little go at the Madeira; cake and wine. Very nice.

And so to bed shortly after midnight....