Lamping but not Glamping

Yesterday I had such a busy day that this morning I allowed myself an extra hour in bed, just to think. That made it 12 hours in bed, something I haven't managed for a while. My dreams reveal an underlying desire for infinite power forever, to wield it with blatant cruelty and sang-froid, and also to kill remorselessly.

I had been promised a day full of bugger-all with copious amounts of relaxation and some leisurely not-much thrown in, so I was most affronted when Jof said I had to go for a walk, without even any actual reason. We did Prince Albert Park which was full of girls and Bransbury Park, which had hordes of even pinker girls. I can spin myself up and de-spin myself in the Cup of Seasickness. Sometimes it's good just to park for no reason, you're only a kid twice. Jof made me a bacon sandwich, which is in fact cruel and unusual punishment for someone who is not only on a severe diet, but is a lapsed vegetarian (it's always bacon that causes the downfall).

That left me free for several hours of Minecraft before Scouts. The bigger the Scout, the more complex the tasks. Beaver Scouts only get a single night on camp. Cub Scouts get 2. Scout Scouts get shooting, and something called the Lamp Trophy which our group won last year, so we are determined to retain the title of Supreme Illuminati of the Lamp or whatever it is. We assemble in the dead of night in little-known backwoods village "Denmead" and get abducted by a mad mini-bus driver and callously abandoned in a haunted forest in the middle of nowhere with just maps, a compass, reflective safety gear and food. Then we have to make our way back to Blighty, facing challenges, crossing borders at night, and performing tasks along the 8 kilometre route, and all on a theme of "The Great Escape". I have seen this film and assume I will have to steal a plane with the help of a blind forger and escape to victory.

We picked up a Scout codenamed 'Luke' who used to go to my school 3 years ago, it's this sort of thing I shall have to get used to, everyone being 3 years older and 2 feet taller. But as a fellow soldier of the Old Regiment, we got on famously and were delivered to the safe house 4 minutes early, evading the searchlights and armed guards. Our CO was there and we were handed over to the Goons for assessment, delousing and transfer to other prison facilities. I was a little wary, but the team rallied round and you know, this might just work out. I awarded myself an extra hour in bed (ok, in sleeping bag) just because.