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CAMP BARLEYLANDS-September 12th-14th 1997

written by ‘Ugly Kid’ Gary Sutherland, 16

PARENTAL ADVISORY EXPLICIT LYRICS

Being my 2nd year running, I knew exactly what the unit was in for at Barleylands, it wasn’t your usual ‘around the campfire’ one, this was a working one, and a damn fine excuse to get pissed.

Barleylands is a steam rally organised every year in Billericay, Essex. Phil Pott the man who owns Barleylands sets out about 6 fields filled with stalls, tents, car parking, farming and steam rallying, not to mention all the ventures in the orchard.

Dionysus and the other venture units were Phil’s slaves for the weekend, we put on some official florescent coats, grabbed our scout scarf and we were now of some superiority, over the weekend we were put on 2 main jobs, car parking, or gate.

I remember me and Kev Leah, were put on Billericay car park on the Saturday morning, it was a lousy day, I was knackered and had a big f#@king hangover, and I had hair sticking up like Albert Einstein (I hid this disgrace with a Chicago bulls cap). We had to put up with some girl called Jenny? Singing ‘Postman pat’ and ‘remember you’re a bloody womble’ by the end of the morning the tunes were thoroughly rinsed into my brain, however it was a laugh. I had the occasional dumb-ass of a driver, wander around in a car to an unknown destination, when me, Kev and Jenny were clearly in view directing all cars entering, there were some very nice cars (which I parked ace!) and also some dickheads, who got in a strop because I parked them were they didn’t want to park, so as any irate bastard does, he tries to break my kneecaps, fortunately I’m not as dumb-ass as I look (with a cap on backwards), I dodge and call him ‘a f#@king nobhead’, under my breath, (hey I’m not that liary)

Saturday night came as quick as it could, and the whole point of this camp was to get, inevitably, drunk, pissed, langered, hammered and generally f#@ked up. I started the night by grabbing a 4-pack, sticking one in my back pocket, so they poked out like a magazine of torpedoes? And headed off to the beer tent with Daniel Sims, Kev Leah, Mark Vickers, and Carl Mcdowel, 1 torpedo dropped on the gravel, got pierced and released a fine spray of alcohol into the air, I now had 2 beers on the go, 1 miller pilsner and one Kronenbourg 1664. The rest of the troop were down sitting on hay bails outside the large beer tent. Helen Clubb was seemingly already pissed, and remarkably everyone else was still fairly sober, a few more beers, many trips to the Khazi, and we was all a goner.

Andrew Morris being somewhat a food meister, introduced me to an expensive pork burger with apple sauce, it was f#@king gorgeous, I could live on those things, I wanted more but had jack-shit money. So I went back to a now large crowd of about 150 people gathered outside the beer tent, we seemed to be the only teenagers but no-one gave a shit.

In front of us stood some geezer, asking for Ł1 for five goes on one of those ‘hit the bell’, sledgehammer things. Dionysus were well and truly pissed, Adam Batson was first up, pissed out of his nut, he stumbled around whacked the button with the sledgehammer, no good, he looked sick as he reached his fourth go and struck the bell, chuffed he struck gold again for his fifth go. Andrew Morris also struck twice, the rest of us ‘little-uns’ had a job to beat, I did pretty damn fine myself hitting once and the other four getting very close, amazing considering I could see 2 sledgehammers, and 2 poles with a bell, by the end of the night we had all lost our voices cheering each other on.

Come to think of it I was pissed the majority of that weekend, and its all a bit of a blur. I do however remember Sunday morning, I was put on main gate with Carl, Debbie Burrell, and Sarah Kitchener. I’m shit at maths so I was paranoid, and self-conscious. Trying to conform with old people seemed nigh impossible. Near to the end of this shit job I met Kev again, we ran off to wander around and somehow met Karl and some Richard dude at the bottom of Wickford car gate. Evasively I nicked their CB and fannyed about, after a confusing conversation with Gordon Wyper, who I thought was Adam and Rob inches, me and Kev ran aimlessly in crowds of 2000+ trying to find my ex-girlfriend. I lost Kev, dunno how, but nevertheless I found Helen Hyde, f#@ked out of my head, we went back to the orchard, helped tidy up the excess of about 200 beer bottles and cans, and f#@ked off home, remarkably dirty, and brain dead. Signalling the end to a fine bill of entertainment, in the life of Dionysus, Runwell venture scout unit.

The end? until the next time.

4 / December / 1997.

In total this venture help raise almost Ł400 for our unit, and next year we hope to raise even more and maby even beat crew (the goupr of leaders, and others who organise these events).

Disclaimer: Any views, opinions or information expressed in this website are definitely not to be attributed to the Scout Association, nor 2nd Penparcau Scout Group, and probably not even the the Scouts them selves. That's what happens when people like me get put in charge of a website. It just gets filled with drivvel.