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A David Haines Production for HainesUK In association with The Mini Fund |
Share The Wealth! Well kids, we're back. And remarkably, we suffered no losses, no casualties, no terrorist attacks and very few collisions of tra'ers with nu'lear rea'ers. However we did suffer heavy gambling losses (Mr. Hirst!), close encounters of the London girls kind, about seven hundred blisters (myself), new age hippies with magnets and a lot of Ed-related hilarity. Those present:
I feel I should start at the beginning as to recounting the details of the week, so here is a concise, carefully composed, rough estimate of what might have happened. Thursday 17th July Having woken at around a quarter past six so as to get as much panicking in as possible before we left, I eventually met everyone but Mark at Otford station at around ten past seven. Mark left from Tonbridge station that morning and took the tube so as to get to Victoria coach station nice and early so as to rectify any horrible mistakes he may have made. (Mark was in charge of travel - full credit, everything went fine). The eight of us caught the 0727 from Otford and got into Victoria with plenty of time to spare. Having taken possession of a complementary breakfast each, courtesy of the Soya milk people - disgusting, we strolled up the street to Victoria Coach Station to meet Mark. Taking us under his wing, we got to the right gate and annoyed the first people of the week by standing in the way. Oh dear. We piled onto the coach and sat back for a fairly uneventful journey (either that or I've forgotten all the events) The coach stopped in Plymouth, whose coach station is a hole. If you find yourself there, don't. After another swap over of seats so as to rotate around those with legroom, we settled down a bit until we neared Cornwall. And then we arrived in Cornwall. It was very exciting, until it dawned on us that we had to spend two and a half hours driving around back roads until finally reaching Penzance. We piled back off, and prepared for a long, blind walk to the hostel., After a bit of deliberation with a map and some lively and controversial map-reading debates, J-P admitted that he had directions to get there. Grr. Anyway, we trundled there, and made it. At reception they took everyone's name so as they knew what to tell the police, and grudgingly relinquished a key to room 1. This was the first contact with Tra'erman! Tra'er man told us that by an outstanding coincidence, there were nine places left on the bus to the Minack theatre, and that we had to go. I said 'What exactly is the attraction of the Minack theatre?'. He replied, 'Oh it's crap, it's Madam Butterfly, but you've got to go!' Anyway, we reached a stage of almost-settling in and then disappeared for dinner in the hostel's restaurant, the price of which we were quite appalled at. We didn't want to go back, but we'd already ordered and paid for breakfast the following morning. Bugger. Tra'erman told us that we could go and play football on the green, which we did. And lo, grumpy old git came down from above and complaineth. Never mind. That night was poker, followed by lights out, followed by dozens of appalling limericks, such as:
Friday 18th July Time to get a day of Cornwallness in. Tra'er man had recommended Sennen Cove for good waves and plenty of space to play beach football, so Sennen it was. He'd also managed to sell us pre-booked seats on a decrepit bus leaving from right outside our door at a designated time. The bus drove for over an hour. Every single possible road we could have driven on was taken into the route. Finally nearing Sennen, we spotted a road sign informing us that we had travelled a whopping nine miles to get there. Not best pleased, our subsequent outings to Sennen were by public transport. Anyway, Sennen. Great place. We began the day by buying a football (and later another one) and a Frisbee to entertain ourselves. Somehow we took position of an enormous area of the beach (which some felt a little too possessive over!) and spent the day dashing in and out of the sea. Deepan performed the most amazing feat I've seen for a long time: he lost his glasses in the sea, didn't realise for ages, then found them again!!! Big crime: bloody excellent waves (or so we thought) and Matt and Chris who had bought body-boards DID NOT bring them! Sacrilege! In the absence of body-boards so as to go body boarding, Deepan and I pioneered 'bodying', where one merely glides on the water for about 18 inches. Other sports included diving into, over, around, away and in time forwards from the big waves. Our attentions turned to more important matters; food! Lunch at a beach bar was fine, but what the hell were we supposed to do for dinner? Ha! Luckily I am a master chef, and bought two and a half kilos of spaghetti to last us a couple of meals, as well as two jars of Dolmio sauce. Back at the hostel I assembled my crack team of chefs and bossed them around until we had dinner for nine ready. And what a dinner! I think we can safely agree that apart from when I threw boiling water at Deepan and when Ed barbequed some spaghetti to the bottom of the pan, it was a success. Tuesday night saw more poker, including a phenomenal first-hand loss from myself to Matt (the wily monkey - he must have been cheating). We had the shadow of a room change over our heads the following morning so we 'prepared' for the move. I remember little else... Saturday 19th July We woke. Probably early. And moved. Six of us (Me, Nick, Matt, Chris, Deepan, and J-P) were downstairs in room 10, Ed, Mark and Jonny moved one room over to room 2. Things went surprisingly smoothly, apart from us having to move straight into a room after a load of chavs had moved out, leaving us with their mess. Room 2 smelled bad when they moved in, but it was nothing compared to how it smelt when they moved out! I recall describing the stench as 'ferocious' and 'vicious'. NB - Ed blames three factors - damp, Mark's shoes and Jonny. I have remembered what we did today. Under the pretext of 'exploring' Penzance, we played football on a rugby pitch. We played for a while, with little action of particular interest (although it's safe to say that I won) . Anyway, we got a call from Miss Liz. Liz was in Newquay, and feeling lonesome, so, in the spirit of communism, we valiantly went and got her. But not before a trip to that most excellent foodstuff establishment, LIDL! Shopping is so much fun! Frozen pizza tonight! Liz was obtained from Penzance station and then we ruthlessly had lunch. Then the trouble started. We meandered into an arcade, where some of us valiantly lost some money, then stopped gambling. Others (who shall remain nameless - Mark!), managed to lose considerable sums and still go back for more! This was to be an embarrassingly repetitive scene. After a shocking string of poor logic, we dragged the remaining gamblers out and went to sample Penzance's beaches. Which consist of black sand, rocks and what was suspected to be a sewage line. Suffice to say the sensible amongst us didn't go in the water (see photo of Mark and Liz in the water). The weather, as usual, was against us, and we took shelter in a cunningly placed fish and chip shop where we spent large amounts on hot chocolate and ice cream. Finally, we relinquished Liz and made our way back to the hostel. That evening we encountered the German girls, whose phrases are - "Do you haff any bier?", "Can ve shmoke out your vindow?", and "But you don't efen know me!". They were ignored. Saturday 19th/Sunday 20th
This is going to take some explaining - OK, the tale begins at LIDL, where Jonny, the resident kuchen addict, purchased voluminous amounts of his particular favourites. And verily, the townspeople rejoiced. We had two boxes of these Jaffa cake/strawberry/weird German biscuits. So we consumed one each, and left the rest in our little pigeon hole in the kitchen.
The following morning, we discovered that ALL the kuchen were missing, with the word 'Danke' written nonchalantly on the empty box. A whole loaf of bread was also missing, which cost me my large breakfast!! Boy, were we pissed off. There was serious hatred towards the Germans that morning. Nick, in an ever-present quest for justice, accompanied by myself, Chris and J-P, took the evidence to reception, who could do bugger all. The German hatred was fuelled, and luckily for them they left that morning. Jonny was in a blind rage by this time... This is where the story should have ended. However, recently I discovered the truth. The events actually played out as follows:
Sunday 20th July OK, I'm a little confused, but fairly sure that today was the day we went to St. Ives and Porthcurno. I'm also quite convinced that today was the first of Ed and Matt's historic organisation attempts - with phenomenal and shockingly poor consequences. Well, we made it on a bus, which was similar to Ed'n'Matt's plan in that we took the bus. Under Mark's unfailing sense of direction and convincing lying, we meandered through the town's copious streets and back alleys. We bypassed the £99.99 fibreglass bodyboards and bought several of the first £9 polystyrene items we saw, and served us well they did. We continued to traipse through town, in search of the semi-mythical beach of Mark's childhood. Surprisingly, it did in fact exist. Excellent waves, healthy breeze, traditionally chilling waters and 'Fit Burger Girl' as Ed came to know her provided an excellent day on the beach. And then it rained. It didn't just drizzle, it was a tropical storm. This gave us the opportunity to revisit the shelter of Burger Girl's shop and purchase PINK SPADES. I chortle aloud as I remember that we began burying Deepan standing up when a 5 year old approached us, and in the tiniest possible voice said "Would it be OK if I helped?" "Course you can!" was the unanimous reply. Jackson, as he was remarkably named, turned out to be quite violent with a spade, much to Deepan's dismay and everyone else's amusement. At some point a scantily-clad girl gave me a flyer for a Surf Competition on Tuesday. After recovering from the scantily-clad image, I proposed this to the group. It was a cunning plan, but not quite cunning enough. Some bright spark (I think either Jonny, Chris or Matt, maybe J-P), pointed out that if everyone in the area went to this place, then we should go back to Sennen and have the place to ourselves. Seems clever, doesn't it? Right, after that... Yes, I remember. We wandered around St. Ives for a while, and unfortunately came across another amusement arcade. We were amused, and lost more money, apart from Chris who beat the poker machine (and then lost it all again later in the week). We dragged ourselves and each other out, and went uphill through St. Ives, stopping at various knick-knack and fudge stores for the benefit of those poor saps who has to buy presents for girlfriends. We collectively failed to find the original bus stop, but we stumbled into another one so we managed fine. Hmm, that evening. I have some impression that we went into Penzance and did some expert wandering around, but I think that I should confirm this with an associate. It'll do for now. I think that night was the momentous occasion when Jonny expelled Matt from the non-pungent room and usurped his place. Matt was unimpressed, and smelly. This was the moment I had been waiting for. It was time to reveal my amazing talent for German songs!!
Monday 21st July Aah, the military operation. Last night (possibly this morning) I told everyone present in the games room including The Sarahs and Greenwich girls that we were going to Sennen Cove today. And verily, this was met with grave disapproval from the townspeople, so the following agenda was drawn up so as to satisfy everyone:
All points were remarkably achieved, however the day's military activity was far from over... We took the local cheap bus to Sennen and began the day's activity with volleyball, of sorts. I couldn't resist the waves so went body boarding on my own - Nick joined me and eventually Deepan did as well. With little inspiration and enthusiasm, we used the pink spades we bought yesterday (?) to dig a big hole and make a big pile of sand. Inside the hole there was discovered a bloody enormous granite boulder (dinosaur egg). And lo! The Sarahs were sighted! Some ran up the hill, but the more foolhardy hid in the hole under the protective shield of body boards. As The Sarahs walked on, oblivious, we were only given away by the hysterical laughter of the onlookers. There was a lot of food consumed, at least two lunches each, and some phenomenal wetsuit-free bodyboarding, particularly fantastic were me, Matt, Chris and Ed. Many others sank... YES, thanks to the prompting of Mr. Ed Coughlan, I can recount the details of the evening, but first I must explain something. The hostel was run by two people, Tra'er Man and Fat Bird. Simple guide: Tra'er Man = good, Fat Bird = bad. So Tra'er Man goes away on holiday on Monday and we don't see him again. We are instead stuck under the watchful eye of Fat Bird. Right, on with the story... We were playing poker at around midnight, as you do, when we heard a knock on the door. This was strange, as we exchanged looks and realised that all nine of us were present. With an air of bewilderment, I opened the door. Outside were five girls, and quite attractive ones too. So we chatted on the doorstep for a bit, and in my generous manner I invited them in. So they sat down and we talked for a bit, and there was another knock on the door. Even stranger... Well I opened it again, and in came four more girls who sat down and started talking to the first lot, without acknowledging me or my eight close friends. Well that was fun, but we ejected them. Ed and Matt and J-P, however, had other plans. They went and hilariously knocked on their door. Hilarious it was, and on good terms with posh London girls we remained. And then, Fat Bird struck. I give you now what I can remember of her stirring speech: I'm mmmmmmmmmmmmightily pissed off. Those girls have complained about you knocking on their door and behaving in such an unruly fashion. [Me] - What?? They were in here five minutes ago! [FB] - Well they've complained about your behaviour. How old are you?? [deadly silence]. Behave! There was more but I forget. Anyway, we were silenced. Pissed off, but silenced. Those girls were gonna get some serious reprisal. Tuesday 22nd JulyRight, we were mighty annoyed by now. However, we had paid for a decent time and we were damn well going to get one. Remember the surf competition at Porthcurno that I was personally invited to by scantily clad girls? Well it was deemed to be a bad idea due to the inevitable over-crowdedness of the beach. So, back to Sennen to avoid the throngs. A public bus later, we were shocked, repeat, SHOCKED, to find that a few other people had had a similar idea. The beach was packed. And it was high tide so there wasn't even that much room to pack people in. Ah well, best make the most of it. I believe that we began the day with a mass body-boarding excursion, with similar degrees of success. There is little other detail that I recall of the early part of the day, aside from a new pass-time, 'Cloudbathing' and inevitable visits to get more food and more drink. Inspired by the previous day's hard graft in the sand, the time had come for the construction of a SANDTRA'ER!!! But, we're a little too lazy to dig up that much sand, so the majority of the volume was taken up by large rocks. The sand was piled on, shaped, crafted, sculpted, and it looked very strange. It's odd shape was attributed to it being a Racing Tra'er. Bored, we added Farmer Joe having been run over, advertising; including Big Steve Inc., Elf, Shell, PORN (Jonny!), a racing number 9 and very wide wheels. We can only assume that it's still there... The journey back will not soon be forgotten. The open top bus had 20 kids from Sheffield at the back who were singing. A Judd School rabble will not be outsung by Northerners. The following hour was taken up with renditions of:
And many many more.. Also every tra'er seen was shouted at, and I lost my voice about 15 minutes in. When we got off the bus they sang 'You're not singing anymore', and they were right, so we joined in with 'We're not singing anymore!!". When we got back it was time for London girl reprisal. So, furious, we bravely sent Jonny to go and sort 'em out. It turns out that we had been played against each other. Fat Bird had told them that we had complained about their behaviour and that she was very angry at them. Ooh, she was a crafty one... That evening we had 24 sausages and 18 burgers between us, with buns, on disposable barbeques, and a good night was had by all, mostly thanks to Jack. We even got a campfire going to complete a happy-camper-idyllic setting. This setting proved ideal for Chris, who became particularly attached to a certain clever Sarah. For about 2 hours. Chris declines to comment. However we ascertained that on the 1-4 bases system he achieved 2.1. We have yet to establish what exactly 2.1 is...
What I remember of very early Wednesday morning is as follows:
Mr Jonathan Crow has provided me with a 'full account' of the morning. I take no responsibility and make no apologies for it. Read at your own risk. Matt -
Jonathan. There appear to be some chavs yonder. Later that morning...we awoke to find the room covered in a blanket of Tesco's carrier bags. As Chris, Nick and I went downstairs to fry up some bacon, others slowly awoke. By the time we'd returned Mark and Ed were going through their haul of shopping, which I humbly reproduce for you here:
The sum of which totalled £30.32, paid in exact change. Here is what I have managed to glean from those present at the later events of the morning: Jonny, Matt, Chris, Mark, Ed and Deeps went into town, with the intention of reaching Tesco's. Jonny and Matt fell at the first hurdle, Jonny having enervated some chavs. They were escorted back by Deepan (and Chris?). This left Ed and Mark to continue the three-mile trek to Tesco's. When they arrived there they began their mammoth shopping spree, paid in exact change (which was close!), and then completed the trek back, having used some of their produce before reaching the hostel. That day was spent in sheer hilarity of the events. We went to St. Ives on an open top bus in the rain. If that wasn't enough, we weren't paying attention and at one point were completely convinced that we'd bypassed the town entirely. Disappointingly, this was not the case. We spent a pleasurable day buying souvenirs, chips, further gambling, eating pasties, etc., etc. Intrigued by signs for a flea market, we went there. And flea-like it was. Pathetic piles of aged wears. HOWEVER, there was the attraction of the crazy hippies with magnets, who claimed that they could heal any malady with the application of magnets. Deepan, who's clearly the sort to be taken in by this kind of tosh, admitted to earache. We spent the next quarter of an hour being lectured on the dangers of mobile phones, computers, televisions and everything else that we hold dear to our hearts as Deepan held four magnets to his ear. He reports that his earache got worse, and merely told the hippies that he was better to appease them... Anyway, we went home, and saw a reprisal of spaghetti Bolognese (I think), and another camp fire, into which was ceremonially thrown the organic bread, some oranges, the aubergine, the mushroom, a chair and possibly some wood as well. As we all sat around the campfire in the most idyllic fashion possible, my dear friends brought me a vast array of chocolate as a note of thanks for organising the whole bloody thing, something which I concede, I couldn't have done without Mark, Deepan and the constructive complaints of J-P. The evening drew long into the night. What happened, I can't remember, and probably never shall. I feel it's better that way... Chris certainly remembers though...
The end drew nigh. We packed our bags, said our farewells to nice Aussie lass, ignored Fat Bird, ate some breakfast, the usual kind of things. Interestingly, we didn't even touch the frosties, milk, soup, our sweet and sour sauce... We made it back all right. Walking through Penzance with 2 litres of Scrumpy, a week's worth of clothes and a month's worth of chocolate was an arduous task, but we got there. We found the bus, drove long into the day (incorporating several odd things, but none that can be fully explained in my incoherent net-babble), and made it back to London. Trains went in directions, people got on them, and the adventure drew to a close. I well up with tears as the memory returns. My sincerest thanks to the following: the YHA, my parents, Penzance youth hostel, Mr. Mark Hirst, National Express, Tra'er man, the people of Cornwall, and the nice people pf Thresher's, Penzance. THE END. GO HOME. |
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Wednesday
23rd July