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Hampshire Venture 2
In 1997 some of our ventures went on jamboree, I have eventually got around to putting their article on the computer. Since then we have also gone on to LIV 98 in Lestershire and the article should be up soon. If you wish to mail anyone about this or any other jamboree's we may be going on the e-mail adresses are on the other page.
Hampshire Venture 2- The Start
Last year, I was fortunate enough to be invited to Essex jamboree as a member of the Essex Scout Archery Team. It was my first experience of a large international camp, and I decided immediately that I wanted to participate in such a camp again, only not on crew. On return, I phoned up Baden-Powell House in London for a list of international activities. Hampshire jamboree was one of those, so I wrote off to the organisers for more information.Basically, Hampshire Venture 2 seemed the same as Essex jamboree, only without Scouts, Cubs or Beavers. That was enough for me - now I just needed people to go with. I was utterly amazed and disgusted with the lack of enthusiasm from other members of the unit. Finally, three people were down to go Andrew Morris, Chris Burrell and myself. All of us good friends, myself and Chris with cars, no problem.
A few months before HV2, Andrew and I went to a pre HV2 get together. There we met the person in charge of international liaisons, a man called Carl. He persuaded us to 'volunteer' to offer hospitality to a foreign unit (the fact that they may be Swedish and all female did help, I must admit). After a couple of weeks, we discover that we have a unit of eight people from Ireland. Chris has a Renault 5, I have an Orion, so we thought that space would be adequate. It probably would have been too had somebody not crashed into my car and nearly wrote it off one week before we were due to go. It is at this depressing and worrying point that I begin my diary, which I kept up to date throughout the jamboree despite occasional drunk or hung-over moods. I wrote it all up virtually word for word, in the hope that it may provide an insight into our Venture Unit.
Friday, 8th August, 1997
This was one of the most stressful days of my life. With only Chris's Renault as transport for three people and eleven people's gear, it wasn't looking good. My Orion could not have been hit at a worse time. Anyway, even with Chris in his Mum's Uno and me driving Chris's car, space was looking tight - impossibly so. Eventually, a tow-bar for the Renault was the only answer. Unfortunately, none of us knew how to put it on!Sorting out equipment was a challenge. 1st Runwell's tents have seen better days as far as getting the correct poles, so it took us hours mixing and matching to find anything vaguely useable. With all this hassle, I still have 10l other things to do (i.e. pack) and Chris won't stop stressing.
By 7pm we had the gear, and Andrew's brother was given the job of fitting the tow-bar. 'Shouldn't take more than about an hour,' I remember him saying. I went home for dinner and other such stuff, and returned at 8:30 in the hope of seeing the job done. Not quite - they were still trying to work out how to get the bumper off. This was too much.
Who cares, we all unanimously decided. We all went off to Felsted to see my girlfriend in the Uno so-we could try to forget how unlikely arrival in Hampshire tomorrow looks. Working through the night to get ready without sleep was now looking a real possibility when we got back after midnight to see the car still wasn't ready. By 2am (!) we were back at Chris's house with everything nearly done. Tomorrow's plan looks like this: up at 6:30, dress, breakfast, grab a few bits from my house, leave at 8:00, ETA in Hampshire at midday.
Saturday, 9th August, 1997
Written at 1 p.m.Forget that plan - things have not improved. Waking at 6:30, Andrew and I discovered that two hours of sleep were not enough for any rapid movements. Last nights long conversation about women should definitely have been curtailed somewhat. We decided strong coffee, energy pills and some other energy drink Andrew had found would do the trick. Well they did, if you ignore the numerous hypo spells. Packing the trailer took ages somehow, as I found out how much rope I needed to tie it down. Andrew and I then discover Chris has loads of stuff to do around the house, and we finally leave at 10:30.
The Renault looks a joke. We got some bizarre looks on the motor way, and that's no great surprise. A tiny Renault 5 with a 6 ft trailer at the back covered in a bright orange ground sheet, and Andrew in the back buried in other luggage. Chris's swervy driving doesn't help, especially with his permanent Liam Gallagher on crack expression I'm sure he doesn't realise that overtaking on the inside is illegal, but who cares. We are way behind schedule it is 1pm and we are still on the M3. I'm bored so I'm writing this, Chris is on another planet even though he's driving and Andrew is fantasising over a men's magazine in the back. We still have a site to erect, shopping to do and Irish people to meet. All I want to do now is sleep that energy concoction is having side effects.
Just discovered something amusing - Chris singing to 'Walking on Sunshine.'
Later.
Found a shop near the site spent £138 between us on fags and alcohol! Turned up on site around 4ish. Chris nearly sent the car down a ditch avoiding a 4x4. After working out where we were supposed to be camping, we find out that the Irish have gone to Beaulieu for the day, and they have already borrowed two tents. Set up a few tents in a hurry, and time goes forward by two hours to HV2 time. Despite the panic, we still missed half of the opening ceremony, which was as good as opening ceremonies can get, I suppose.
The site itself is divided into five sub-camps: Muppets (for staff), Magic Roundabout (where we were), Trumpton, Bedrock and Pugwash. Toilet blocks are adequate, however there are no showers. In all, there are just over a thousand participants here and about 200 crew. Unlike at Essex jamboree, though, the crew were quite a good laugh here, they can be seen drinking and enjoying themselves, rather than running around like little Hitlersat Essex. The site is not too huge to leave long walks to anywhere, and each sub-camp has its own HQ tent where they organize things separately. Upon return from the opening ceremony, we met up with the Irish. Their leader, Mick, is amazing. We've already been invited back to Ireland whenever we want. The others are Maura (Mick's fiancée) and Brian, who are both leaders, with big Steve, noisy Dermot, quiet Mark, Kerena and Karren. Andrew and Chris seem better than me at understanding them. We've already made friends, and I hope we keep contact. We were sitting outside talking for hours. They are interesting people, and they seem as eager as us to make foreign liaisons. One funny thing though they don't drink! And they're Irish!
Amazingly, I've met up with a load of girls from London I taught archery to at Essex jamboree. Andrew and Chris were rather impressed when they came and said hello!
Already someone from a neighbouring unit has gone too far on alcohol, fell unconscious and crapped himself (literally). Alcohol restrictions seem non-existent here he won't be the last.
The last two days have been a nightmare. At last we're here, we've set up, made friends and we're ready to enjoy the week beginning with flying tomorrow morning.
Sunday, 10th August, 1997
Written at 4pm.Some git with g megaphone came round at 8am (HV2 time) and woke everyone up. Therefore everyone was pretty shattered this morning. After a quick breakfast, we went to the activity office at 10:30 to go flying. There were 9 of us in all, and the driver and navigator got us horrendously lost on the way there. No surprise they were both women. For some reason, they even avoided signposts to the airfield, preferring instead to follow a pretty obscure set of hand-written instructions. Anyway, arrival at 12, and a long wait whilst the first few went up. We didn't actually get a chance to have a go, we just watched the pilot take us on a small trip. Disappointing, yes, worth taking a whole day out for, no. We returned at 3:30ish.
The weather is fantastic. Next door, they have the radio on with the Grand Prix and Damon Hill is winning. We're all relaxing in the sun with a beer with the dinner cooking and no noisy sods nearby to annoy us. Things do not come much better than this. I'm in the mood to get thoroughly wrecked tonight. The best bit is that of the few groups around us with music playing, none of them are obsessed with Ugly Kid bloody Joe (Gary, Scott, Darren!).
7pm.
Since the last entry, we have done nothing at all. Three hours of dossing, sun bathing, water fights and drinking. We even put another tent up because we had nothing to do. Chris's latest dumb comment: "I'm not going to get a loan for a new car because I haven't got enough money." Eh?
Later.
We stayed at the tents for a few hours drinking, and then had another water fight in which Andrew and I came up with the idea of having a shower in. The people getting us wet were a bit surprised to suddenly see shampoo appear. Then we hit the disco. There were stupid games on stage first, like women eating bananas from between a bloke's legs in the soixante-neuf position, and they were a laugh - particularly after the amount of beer we had consumed. The music was great, and I even got Chris up on my shoulders once. Somehow met a unit from Manchester apparently there's a jamboree there next year. On the way back I got lost and ended up with a unit from Nottingham, so I stayed with them for a few hours. The 'Essex man' label makes it easy to make friends, not that it is hard anyway, and Andrew and I have done nothing to improve the reputation of Essex girls we generally admit that everything people hear about them is true.
Monday, 11th August, 1997
Git with megaphone came around again, but I hardly noticed due to the hangover. Karena then tried to wake us all up by calling out "wakey, wakey" in that wonderful melodial Irish accent of hers, and failing that Steve and Dermot yelled into my tent. I eventually got up and took a quick cocktail of pills as tried on Saturday. Chris did us a huge fry-up - as usual we have far too much food, so we need to get going.
GruesomeGot back at 10:30 to find Chris eating his fifth dinner. He'd enjoyed himself, as had the Irish who'd gone swimming. Hit the beer, decided we couldn't be bothered to get drunk again and went to the disco sober. Some guy called Gary Miles or something sang a load of old songs with his guitar - he was quite good surprisingly. The crowd got going, so it was a good laugh.
After the disco I Went to see the Nottingham mob again because they said they were having a party for someone who was 16 today. I turned up to see everyone quietly drinking around a gas lamp and the birthday girl busily puking her guts out in the bush. Hung about there briefly and brought back a Nottingham guy and someone else I'd found from Bucks. The by now traditional chat with the Irish and bed, where this is being written depressingly sober.
Tuesday, 12th August, 1997
Our contact list has grown. We've swapped addresses with Simon, and have requested a list of 'International Opportunities' from Baden-Powell house which we visited. The weather is still fantastic despite the severe thunder storm warnings we keep being given, and our only problem is that our cool box is knackered and most of our food is now skank and we'll need to go shopping tomorrow in Lyndhurst.
Wednesday, 13th August, 1997
Woke up to Kerena yelling 'wakey wakey' in her stupid Irish accent. It was too late for the go-karting we had booked up, so we basically spent the morning eating through our food mountain. Andy and I had missed dinner for the last two days, so we were starving. Rob came over, and the four of us went around site doing laser-clays, air-rifles and archery. We then checked out the international tent and got ideas about jamborees abroad next year. Returning to mong out in the sun, we got roped into playing in a five-a-side football competition. Problem: only three of us. I found a unit short of people for volley-ball, so we combined. We were quickly annihilated at everything. After dinner (Chris's mank Shepherd's Pie that looked more like porridge) we hit the beer by 7:30.
Thursday, 14th August, 1997
The whole site was woken up at 8am as today is fund raising day for charity. A truck with big speakers on the back towing a generator was responsible, so I knew they weren't messing about and obeyed. I advised Andrew and Chris to follow suit, which Andrew reluctantly did. I found some guy with a megaphone and got him to terrorise the Irish's tent as revenge for them waking us up every damn morning. It was hilarious the door was yanked open, he screamed into it through the megaphone and two other guys pulled the sides of the tent up. They did not look impressed, but understood when they saw me laughing in the background. Chris was still asleep, so his tent was attacked as well three people dragged him out of his tent and sleeping bag and left him barely dressed on soaking wet grass looking to say the least a little bit dazed.
We are now sitting in the sun with beers and reasonable music in the background. Chris might even cook dinner soon. Upon inspection of our stores, we discover that after tonight's dinner, we have the following food left: cereal, margarine, slightly mouldy bread, fruit, lettuce, a cucumber, tomatoes, eggs, rice, pasta, 1 pot noodle and a huge sack of potatoes. Unfortunately, Chris's cooler was really too small, so all our meat and milk has been thrown away we've thrown twice as much as we've eaten.
Our sunbathing session resulted in three things: getting a tan, discovering numerous ways of killing wasps in slow and painful ways, and Andrew getting very drunk. Consequently, we now only have four cans of lager left, so a shopping trip now looks essential.
So much stuff was stolen earlier in the week, it is now a problem. Sub-camps have had mascots kidnapped (fair enough) but theft of things like disco and bar equipment meant that the disco was nearly cancelled. Instead it was postponed un1il about ten. Andrew and I met a guy who was a traffic policeman and had a long chat to find out how to get let off when you are pulled over. Depressing answer: you can't. Disco finished early again because complaints about noise had been received from five miles away!). None of us could be bothered to wander about meting people all night and there was a beer shortage so getting more drunk was out of the question, so an early night in bed.
Friday, 15th August, 1997
Got up early to ring home for A-level results. Did pretty well, so I started the day in a good mood. After many entertaining wasp executions, we all went swimming and the Irish came too.
The swimming pool was pretty rubbish - not worth the 45 minute journey. It was busy, and that was before fifty-odd ventures invaded. It was my first proper wash all week, so it felt good. We were back at about 5:30.
Chris seems to be swapping everything. He now has a scarf from Austria, group badge from Wales and unit shirt from Kent all at the expense of bits of his own uniform. I swapped my scarf with Steve's. Cameras have been clicking away all day, and there seems to be a real sombre mellow mood around the camp as the realisation that we all have to leave tomorrow sets in.
At the closing ceremony, we were all in uniform during excruciatingly hot weather. Boring thank yous etc., then all back to sub-camps for their bit. It was more of a party atmosphere, with various silly awards to certain people, including 'Most Uncontrolled Bowels' to the guy from the tent near us who crapped himself on Saturday and 'Least Appropriate Dress for HV2' to the girls I knew from Essex jamboree.
Saturday, 16th August, 1997
Up at 9 to take the site down. That was the plan anyway; being only 7am real time, there was still a heavy mist and all the tents were soaking wet. What a shame; that meant we had to just laze about for a couple of hours whilst the tents dried off. We were finally ready to leave by 3pm. Said our farewells to everyone - neighbours crew and notably the Irish. They were very grateful for the loan of the gear, and we are definitely going to take them up on their offer and go over there some time, possibly even this year. They have kept us entertained all week, and it was worth all the hassle getting the gear here for them. We may put them up again at a jamboree next year - we've found out about enough of them, we must be able to find one next year that will suit us and them. We must stay in touch - the possibilities are endless. Departure from the site was made more amassing by Andrew standing up in the car with his head out of the sunroof shouting good bye to anyone he could see and Chris sounding his horn and driving even worse than usual. Hampshire Venture 2 went too quickly. None of us can think of a single way in which it could have been improved, and fully intend on going on another next year. I hope that any Venture Scout reading this will wake up and decide to join us - for one week, it is a low cost, excellent holiday that you will never forget. It all disappeared down the bottom of a beer glass eventually, but ask Andrew or Chris if they enjoyed it. Ask anyone who has ever been on a jamboree before. Do yourselves a favour I'm already missing the place!