Chief Medical Officers Warning: This is a long post, and may harm you, and those around you.

Good evening brothers and sisters, praise be to the bald!

Okay, so a bit on an unorthodox opening, but I shall tell you why. Apologies to any friends that spoke to me over the weekend on MSN, I've already raved about this to you, but I feel the need to share my joy. I found on the internet, an amazing collection of a radio show called 'Terry Garoghan's Last Bus to White Hawk'. This radio show, winner of a Sony Radio Award GOLD, was funnier than Ricky Gervais, and was only on my local radio station, Southern FM. It was a late night show, and the humour could be... quite close to the nuckle. But listening back over the clips, it really was as funny as I remember. Bring back 'The Last Bus to Whitehawk'!

Anyways, Terry nearly always opened his show with the comment above.

So life at Chesswood this week was great (for the most part). I am beginning to realise that this may have been an unwise choice of placement for me. In kind of the same way that it would be unwise for a starving man to start working as a waiter in a restaurant. I love teaching, and being a TA, working with only a few kids, isn't quite as fulfilling. But work did pick up this week.

I started running some of my after school clubs this week. We kicked it all off with Year 4 and 5 computer club on Monday, which was full of enthusiastic kids, that just wanted to play games. More fool them (please imagine my evil laughter). The school network provider blocks any and all games, that aren't educational...

Tuesday evening was Rambling club with Year 7. Although I don't lead this club, it's run by my friend Jez, who I've been working with for (shudder the thought) 5 YEARS! Can you believe it? I've been volunteering at the schools for 5 years. Thats a quarter of my life...

Anyways, we loaded up the minibus, and went up Cissbury Ring, and took the kids up on the hill with a couple of Frisbees (sorry, Flying Discs - Frisbee is a brand name). One of the Frisb- flying discs was promptly lost in a bush, but I was more interested in showing kids are amazing country. It was a beautiful afternoon, you could see all the way to the Isle of Wight (a long way away for our international readers). 'Look over there kids. You can see the Isle of Wight.' To this comment, Jez (who majored in Geography) laughed at me. 'Of course it's not the Isle of Wight. That's miles away.'

Anyways, long story short, after an argument, Jez ended up saying, 'If that's the Isle of Wight, I'll... teach naked tommorrow. I mean look, there's Bognor, and I know for a fact, you can't see the Isle of Wight from Bognor beach.' To this, me and a fellow teacher, Holly, looked at each other. And then muttered something to do with the curvature of the Earth, and started to take interest as to the practicalities of Jez's bet...

Now, he was wearing clothes on Wednesday, but he assures me that he walked to school starkers...

On Wednesdays, I am going to start running a climbing club for the older kids at the school. Now when I thought this up, I had just got my climbing instructor's ticket, and thought, easy. I'm an instructor, me and Jez load up the bus with kids, and take them climbing at our local wall. Job done.

Wrong.

I had of course forgotten that this was West Sussex County Council that I was now working for, and not the NTC. And of course, synonymous with the word council, is the word - bureaucracy. Paperwork, paperwork, and yet more paperwork. God bless the council. Add to this, that apparently my climbing qualification was completely and utterly useless. That's right kids. It was good for sh*t. Marvellous.

Anyways, three trees later, and some stress, and lots of help from the climbing centre, we have a viable club. We'll be starting in a couple of weeks, and after the first day of sending letters out, we had 23 interested people.

On Friday, I was actually let loose with a class. A teacher had phoned in ill, and there were no spare staff members to cover the class for the whole day, so people were being pulled from all over to cover different sessions. And at the end of the day, the class had Games. The deputy head asked me to do it. Well I jumped at the chance. I love teaching, I honestly do. Shame the class was a complete and utter bunch of pain in the arses. Never mind, I do enjoy a challenge...

After school, was my final club of the week: Ultimate (Frisbee) club. Don't bother asking what it is if you don't know. Your on the friggin internet, use Google! Anyways, I set it up as a club that kids could do, in the hopes that the usual sporty suspects wouldn't sign up, and we'd have an ecclectic bunch of kids. Worked a treat. And we even started to learn stuff that had nothing to do with Ultimate. 'How could you improve you game guys?' Several suggestions later: 'That's right, there are too many people shouting. If you improve your communication, and try lowering the volume, your team will improve. And do you know what? They could even work in class...'

Oh my goodness! What an amazing session. The kids loved it, and we even learnt some soft skills. It's almost as if that Adventure Education degree is paying off...

Almost finally, today (Sunday) I was out with the NTC at our second boating centre, NBAC Attentive (National Boating and Activity Centre). Sorry Attentive, to call you our second centre, but Lion definatly does have the edge. Since about May, I have been staff at the centre. A pretty poor member of staff if I'm honest. Today was only the second session I've made. I just don't have the time to commit like I want to. Really, I could do with having two of me.

Anyways, it was fun day at Attentive today, and I am a Safety Boat operator. So I took out a powerboat. Hap-hazardly, I jumped in a boat, without really selecting one. And at the end of the first session, we had a race. It would appear that I had picked the fastest boat. Admittedly, I knew the type of boat was better than the other two, but I hadn't realised how great this boat flew. I had immense fun in it, and I think the kids did too (except for the one who became sea sick - excellent).

At the start of the first session, I thought I'd do my bit as an educator. You know the typical questions: 'Who's done this before?', 'What does this and that do?... etc. Well, I was just in the midst of this, when a bucket of water was tipped over me, from a passing boat. Oh yeah, this was fun day, and that meant getting wet.

Now, since the purchase of my dry suit, I never bother taking a change of clothes these days, and it was such a lovely day, I didn't bother doing up my dry suit. Yes I think we can all see where this is going. That's right, I drove home in some very wet clothes. Bugger.

Later in the day, we swapped boats. Of the type of boat I was driving, there were two. So we swapped. The other boat, had a far far smaller engine. And I didn't really appreciate this, until I tried to put the hammer down. With 4 kids in, the boat just would not move. Well it would, but it just didn't take off. Me and the kids were in fits of laughter, but only over how crap this boat was in comparison to the other Jaffa. Just my luck.

Things did improve slightly. I was given the huge Dunlop rib, although I will forever call it the banana boat. I have very little experience with inflatables. Even though this boat had a huge engine on it, it didn't really shift. And as you tried to take off, it started to bend in half! Just like a big banana. Scary as for the first couple of times, until I was told that this was how it worked. Bizarre.

And finally, you may remember that last week, I was also out boating. I have taken to recording videos on our trips, to try and make advertisement for the youth group a little easier. So if you want to see this video, click here. It is beautiful, and (in my humble opinion) deserves a BAFTA. But if you havn't got 5 minutes to spare, you definitely want to check this video out.

One of my NTC colleagues, and superior officers is a bit of a nutter. Mr. Ginnaw is very funny, but I have started to capture his exploits on film. Well digital media card actually. So, from the man that brought you Giant Archery, he is a brand new sport, that I think will make it into the 2012 Olympic Games. And of course, after seeing the photage, I just had to have a go at commentating.

Click Here to see the World Mattress and Stairs Tobogganing League Finals, 2007!

Well that's it for another week. But before I go, I need to tell you that we are just 3 weeks away from the 100th post of CATCOUK. Leave a message if you have a suggestion of what to do.

Also, please take some time on Tuesday 25th September, as it is Internation (Andy bought an) Escort Day. That's right, it will be two whole years since I bought my beloved car! So celebrate with me, here on the internationally recognised CATCOUK - the BlogSpot home of Andy Clarke.

If you thought this post was eye-gougingly long, and have in fact lost an eye because of it, please send an invoice to me, by leaving a message.

If you havn't lost the will to live, you must be one of the 16 readers, of Internationally recognise, still not award winning, CATCOUK. Why not leave a message to celebrate the fact that you are still awake.

Quote of the Week: 'Has anyone seen Harry and the Dinosaur?' I think this needs no explanation.

Oh alright, Heather, a lovely lady in the office at Chesswood, had lost one of the book club's books. Wasn't that random, but does sound odd when you have no idea what she's on about.

Trips, trips, and more trips

This was the week that was.

And a busy week as well. As I'm sure you all know by now, I am working at a middle school (ages 8-12) in Worthing. Working in four classes, across three year groups, I get about alot (as it were). Now, I have an incessant need to help people, so I am the first to offer assistanceif I can. And this vile trait of mine ended up with this.

On Tuesday I went with Year 5 to Pulborough Brooks nature reserve, as part of their 'mini-beasts' topic. It was a beautiful day, not even spoiled by the multi-coloured yawn of one pupil on the coach. But, regrettably, I hadn't really thought this one through. The group are studying 'mini-beasts' (insects to you and me), so what is the rest-assured classic main stay of insect field trips?

Yay, bloody fantastic nature! Me at Pulborough Brooks.

That's right. Pond dipping. Ever since I was a child, I have hated pond dipping, with an absolute passion. So yet again, another hour of my life was wasted away, splashing breaking nets around in murky, miserable water. I don't know if any of you remember back to school, and pond dipping sessions (I would be very suprised, and annoyed if any of you managed to escape this particular form of school torture), but it seemed that whenever I went pond dipping, all I ever caught was one thing.

Bleedin' Water Boatmen.

The first time you catch one, you use your magnifying glass, not that it helps you see the creature any better, but it does make you feel more scientific. There's the oval shaped body, with two huge arms likes oars. Having made this simple observation, you then go through that identification chart you never thought you'd use. And yep, sure enough, you have a Water Boatman. Yippee. Sketch it in your scetch book, put it back, and try again.

Your next catch, once again aided by the magnifyer, is identidied as a Water Boatman. And so the merry cycle continues, but by the 59th friggin' Water Boatman, you kind of get bored of dipping for the buggers. Why couldn't I catch something exciting from the chart? I don't know, something like a duck.

Anyways, this session wasn't much different. I spent the hour waving goodbye to another hour of my life that I would never see again. Another hour vanquished by the torturor known as pond dipping...

On Wednesday, I helped Year 7 on their trip to Bignor Roman Villa. This is my third visit to the villa, and each time, I never fail to be disappointed. The villa was found in 1811, museum buildings look like they will put up in 1511. The place is in a real state, and has always looked pretty messy. The tour is a little on the lame side, and as dull as dish water. Especially on the third trip around.

For the trip, I was given a little fact sheet, so that I knew some vital statistics. I forgot about that sheet when I went out in the evening to go and meet up with Michael. How cool am I? That's right, I was able to tell Michael everything he ever wanted to know about the villa, and even alot of stuff he didn't want to know. Forunatly, I swept the sheet under the carpet, and dumped it in the bin, to save Michael the pain, and save what little remains of my street cred.

To top of my rather wonderful week (at long last, I'm busy again), me, Ernie (TS Intrepid's official mini-minibus), and a bunch of kids bombed down to Portsmouth for a weekend of sailing, and sunburn. Saturday was an amazing day. A nice gentle breeze, glorious sunshine, and nice warm water. The kids looked as though they had a cracking day, and I had a great day on the safety boat. Once again, I was paired up with a lovely lady from the MVS (some sort of powerboat voluteer service). Me and Margaret make a crack team in the boat, and we both enjoy a good bomb about in the power boat (even if we did use just a little bit too much fuel).

Amazingly, we had no injuries (not even boo boos) other than someone took a minor bang to the head. Nothing serious. My car did sustain an injury however. For security reasons, I can't tell you what's wring with Ernie, but hopefully next week, I'll be able to tell you all about it. Well that gives us all something to look forward to. I think a great weekend was had all round, although I am majorly knackered.

By that last comment, I mean take a hint. I'm tired, and I need to go to bed. Stop reading my blog, and let me be. Oh, and by the way, you may remember last week, I complained that only 15 people read, but at least one person left a comment on facebook saying that they are a regular reader. So good day to you Jamie. I hope that you are well.

If you think that pond dipping is awesome, and you hate my guts, why not leave a comment telling me so.

If you think that pond dipping is crap, leave a comment telling me that you only ever caught Water Boatmen as well.

Quote of the Week: "Make that 16, iv got into the habbit of reading it every week! see life is worthwhile theres 16 of us! Hope ur well" said Jamie on Facebook. Well I thought his comment deserved recognition.

Back to my life (well sort of)

This week, finally, I returned to a 'normal' Andy Clarke week. Doing stuff during the day, rather than just lounging around watching the idiot box. Whilst I will freely admit to enjoying re-runs of Frasier on Paramount Comedy, it is nice to have something to do. When I was in America, I was busy from 8am, until 10pm (at least). But since my return, this source of business hasn't existed. I have been bored out of my blisteringly numb mind.

On Tuesday, I started my new job (or placement) at Chesswood Middle School. And I have to say, that this must have been the easiest first day at a job that I have ever had. I was a little nervous, I'll admit. But who else starts a new job, where they already know most of the staff, most of the protocols, and where most things are? Come November, I'll have volunteered/ worked at the school for 5 years! How time flies when you're having fun...

The majority of the fun at Chesswood this week, came from teachers introducing me to their classes. 'Well children, this morning we are going to be joined by Mr.- (long pause for thought) I'm sorry, I only know you as Andy'. Up until now, I have been able to get away with being called Andy. But with my new job, this has had to change. Even at NTC, the cadets are being told not to call me Andy any more. And I hate being called Mr. Clarke. One of the Teaching Assts. said 'What is your surname anyway... Oh, I can see why you don't like that. It's not very exciting...'. Thanks for that. So I have a dull surname. It matched my dull personality...

Now of course, as I'm sure you can expect, working with kids all day everyday brings up some interesting stories. And hopefully these will emmerge soon. But this week's stories will have to come from elsewhere. So lets fall back on that old rock of CATCOUK stories - the NTC (Nautical Training Corps for newish readers).

Monday evening was my first practice with the Marching Band of TS Intrepid since I left for the states in June. And I returned to find that the percussion section has turned into a hipp-a-croc-a-pig (some really ugly cross between a hippo, a crocodile, and a pig). Without going into the specifics, and making myself sound ultra-dull (as if, I hear you mutter sarcastically), the percussion section was now made up of a variety of different percussive instruments, but only one of each. Not bad when you consider there are 5 (about a third of our band) cadets in the percussion section - each playing a different instrument.

So, in an attempt to give us a percussion sections at least resesmbling something normal, I moved from bass drum, back to my role as an award winning side drummer. Unfortunatly, some git face has taken away my lovely padded leg rest. So now I have to play the drum at a jaunty angle (and not a cool '70s car parking jaunty angle). This caused a spar on the drum to dig into my leg, which gave me a sore bruise for the whole of the week. What I do in the name of marching music.

Some of you may remember that just before going to America, I reluctantly handed in my notice at the most wonderful place in the world - Sainsbury's supermarket. Yeah right. I have been raving about it, ever since I left. Never again do I have to wear their God-awful 1980's polyester uniforms, or make pleasant conversation with the people weird enough to go to Sainsbury's at 9.30 at night. And I was raving to my American friends that I would now have my evenings free to do whatever I liked. It appears that I may have been a little short sighted.

This week has been rather dull. With Michael working all the hours that he upstairs sends, Siobhan away, Dominic at Southampton Uni, and the Adventure Ed mob at placements all over the world, I don't appear to have many friends to meet up with in the evenings. In fact, I have spent my evenings, contemplating suicide with my laptop mouse. Still, beats contemplating suicide by bar code reader at Sainsbury's...

So to all of my friends out there: I NEED TO GET OUT!!!!! Thank you.

Back to that old mainstay - the NTC. Friday night was our first 'deck night' (regular gathering) of the season. To celebrate the fact that I had been in America for a while, I asked permission, and was granted, to wear my Class 'A' Boy Scout of America uniform. The uniform was met with a variety of different views. There are many new cadets at Intrepid that have never met me before, so none of them knew what was going on. Some of my older cadets, and the officers struggled to keep a straight face, especially when it came to salutes. But never mind, I'm sure the mums all appreciated seeing my nobbley knees... yuck!

Lastly, with my bank account reading - please give us some money - I need all the money I can get. After selling my body prooved unsuccesful, I accepted the job with West Sussex Adult and Community Learning (previously West Sussex Adult Education, previously West Sussex Adult Education Service, previoulsy Boundstone Adult Education Centre... you get the picture). What was my job? To give them yet another name to confuse the heck out of adult students? No. Mum (a 'Team Leader' for Lancing and Worthing) wanted me to help drop some leaflets and brochures off.

Now, Mum described this as not much more than being a glorified delivery driver. At this point, I expect my best friends Michael and Dominic are chuckling to themselves. Before we left High School, we all tried to figure out what each other would end up doing as a job. They believed that I would end up being a lorry driver. And everytime I do something that is even remotely related to getting me there, they both make a point of rubbing it in my face. So yes, I am now a delivery driver...

Anyways, the deliveries/ drop-offs were only part of the job. I have always despised the people that stand in the street giving out leaflets, or asking you to participate in surveys. To be honest, who doesn't. I will accept Big Issue sellers, as thats a worthy cause (not that I have ever bought a Big Issue). So what did I find myself doing at 1145 am, on Saturday morning? Thats right kids - cretinously giving out leaflets in Lancing town cen'er (pronounced with out the T in Lancng). Still, beats working at Sainsbury's (did I mention that already?).

It was interesting to see the kind of diversionary tactics that various people would use. There's the sudden facination with something (anything) in that shop window over there. That old faithful - the old fake phone call. For the parents amongst you, the quick check to make sure the baby is still in the pram/ push chair, and hasn't actually been abducted by aliens. Then of course, as a last resort, you can always resort to the emergency turn - now in three choices: as far away from you on the same side of the road; cross the road; or make a U-Turn, and look like you've forgotten something (I don't know, maybe you left the kids in the toaster or something). My personal weapon of choice, has always been avoid making eye-contact. And that really is the secret. If you avoid eye contact, you can get away with it - DON'T LOOK INTO THEIR EYES...

And now my caffeine induced post for this week is at a close. But before I go, I wonder if you know how many people read CATCOUK, here at blogspot.com? A few weeks ago, Siobhan sent me a link to Google Analytics, which collects all sorts of statistics on your website for you. I can tell how long you visited for, what browser you used, what speed internet you have, and where (to the nearest town) in the world you come from. It's all very cool. In one week (27th Aug - 2nd Sep), 57 people visited catcouk.blogspot.com, from 10 different countries, using 5 different internet browsers. Now, I don't think everyone of those visitors could have read the blog (unless you think it can be read in less than 60 seconds. It would appear that 14 people stayed long enough to read the blog. This doens't take into account people that read via live RSS feed (I suppose some of you might), or people that read my feed on Facebook (and people do - they leave comments).

So there you go. I have around 15 readers. Wonderful. I wasted an hour of my life every week, just to keep 14 people happy. I don't know why I bother, I honestly don't...

If you think that I lead a sad and uninteresting life, why not leave a comment, starting you message with 'Oi! Sad sack!'.

If you think that spending an hour a week to chronicle my life for 15 or so individuals is a wise and noble cause, why not leave a comment, starting your messagea with 'It could be worse - you could be working at Sainsbury's'.

Quote of the Week: 'Yeah, it's spelt right. See, F-I-N-K. Fink.' said one 11 year old pupil, when telling me how to spell the word 'think'.

Dawn of the Red (Paint)

That's right boys and girls, this week sees the return of the infamous CATCOUK bad puns!

Immediatly after completing last week's post, I rushed down stairs, jumped into my beautiful Mark IV Escort, and raced to Lancing with my mother for... a family BBQ! What more fun could you want? All of the usual family BBQ shenanegans (if that's spelt right) - family members making snide remarks at each other, lots of charcoaled burgers, and of course, all of those great photos from America... yawn.

But fortunatly, I had an excuse to leave early from this particular family event. I had to take Ernie on his first long drive, to London, with my friend Siobhan, and her sister and one of her friends. We were going to their Grandparents place to stay over night, in preparation for the next morning. Because at 8am the next day (bank holiday Monday), we were going to need to be in Leicester Square, taking part in a world record breaking attempt.

Now I know what you're thinking. A man of such calibre as myself will be taking part in some almighty record breaking attempt that will benefit the good of all mankind. What will it be? Breaking a new land speed record in Ernie; Setting new record for the lowest ever base jump; developing a cure for some horrible disease, in record breaking time? No. In fact, we were helping in an attempt to set a new record for the largest number of walking zombies gathered together in one place.

Yep, I know. It was an interesting day...

First, we all got up at 6am, had a quick breakfast, and then on with the make-up and costumes. I went for a rather basic ensemble, inpsired by Shaun of the Dead. An old shirt, and some older trousers that looked reasonably neat. I suppose I could have been an office worker. With the basic clothes sorted, it was time for some make-up. Now, all jokes aside, I don't know one flippin' thing about make-up.

So as I'm sure you can imagine, my white face paint was rather lacking. In some places, my face was as white as one of those mimes. In other places, I wasn't white at all! Never the less, Maddi, Siobhan's sister, applied some slightly better make-up (and by slightly, I mean amazing), and the look was a complete. I think my face ended up looking like a lame circus clown. Well, a circus clown that had been beaten up. My big red lips didn't help either (signs that I was not 100% well, and may come down with a cold). To finish off, I wiped a load of read paint (see the pun in the title now) on my shirt, and it all looked like blood. Lovely.

Send in the clowns - I think they already did, into a bar brawl...

So anyways, being the case that women were in charge, we were naturally half an hour late arriving. Not that it mattered, the count didn't start until just after 9. To count us all, we had to get a raffle ticket. Well, first person we saw was this woman. So, all of us 'Zombies' started lurching towards her. As I write this, I am chuckling to myself. To understand why, please imagine yourself as this young lady. One of your friends probably came up to you at the pub the other night, and said something like 'we're attempting to break a world record tommorrow, would you lend us a hand, and give out some raffle tickets?' And now, on this beautiful August bank holiday morning, you have nearly 700 'Zombies' lurching towards you.

As we're all putting bloodied hands in to grad a raffle ticket, this young lady is looking particularly scared. As I take my tocket, she says in an uneasy voice 'Er.. this would probably be easier if I wasn't so scared of Zombies...'

Anyways, the Zombie walk/ meet was a hoot. We didn't break the record, but the morning did involve such classics as: that wedding cracker, Zombie Conga; the disco-tastic Zombie Hokey-Cokey; kids classic, Hot-Potato (well Hot-Fake-Guts really); the old family favourite, Zombie three legged race; and the ever popular, 'How many Zombies can you fit in a Phone Box?'. After that, we walked around Leciester Square, and bombarded all the local shops and terrorised them. Marvellous.

Obviously, we were quite an unusual site. At many times during the day, we had to pose for tourists. One particular encounter I remember (and will probably need to bring up at a 'session' in the future) was a couple of American guys. We were sitting on a bench, and these two yanks walked up to us. We chatted for a while, and then he asked if he could have a photo taken with us. So someone decided it would be best if he lied accross us. I believe the girls were hoping that we would be sitting on their laps (apparently he was good looking, although I didn't see it).

And he did start his lie down by sitting on someone's lap. Mine. One of my hands was trapped between one of his legs, and someone's boob (at least half good, although it was the back of my hand on the boob - no chance of copping a feel). The other was behind me somewhere. All the girls thought he was great, but he could have sat down on any of three lovely young lady's laps, but chose me. A friggin bloke! What does that tell ya?

Anyways, after that, we proceeded to Camden Lock on the tube. For some reason, all the people on the underground were giving us funny looks. I can't work out why.

Well that was the highlight of my week. I'm now going to get some sleep before starting my new job at Chesswood Middle School as a Teaching Asst. See y'all next week.

If you think that me dressing up as a Zombie is daft, why not leave a comment telling me that I'm a dullard.

If you think it was good to see me 'letting my hair down' why not leave me a comment, telling me how to get fake blood stains out of the upholstery of my car...

Quote of the Week: 'Can I have a photo with you' aksed the 15th Japanese tourist of the day, wanting their picture taken with us.

Song of the Month: Worried about Ray. Hoosiers.

CATCOUK: The Return…

It was a traditional British morning in Heathrow (heavy clouds, wind, drizzle, you know the usual), as the mighty Boeing 777 wheels screeched on the runway during a rough touch down. The monstrous jet engines settle down to a gentle rumble, and the aircraft pulled in to the gate in Terminal 4.

A motorcade of vehicles pulled up outside of the Terminal, awaiting their passenger. Black Range Rover, after black Range Rover, after black Range Rover, after 1986 Ford Escort 1.4 GL Estate in Champagne Gold, after black Range Rover… I walk out of the terminal and get into my car.

With a police escort, we are rushed into central London to Buckingham Palace, where the queen awaited for an important meeting. The motorcade drove into the palace, and pulled up outside the door. I stepped out of my mighty steed that is my Escort, and entered the palace. A was steered towards a small conference room.

After meeting with the Queen, and giving her my report on the colony, I got into an open top saloon car, and we proceeded down The Mall in a big ticker tape parade…

And then I woke up. The damn plane hit the runway with all the force it could muster, in an attempt to shatter my spine. Then began the menagerie that is air travel. First to border/ passport control, which had a queue three miles along (even longer than a friggin’ roller coaster). Next was the event that is… baggage collection.

I don’t know what it is that makes me despise air travel the most. The 3 hour wait for the plane to depart, the 7 hour wait on the plane for it to arrive, or the 26 year wait that it takes to get your bags back! Honestly, could they make it an anymore long and drawn out process. This was made worse still, by the fact that they were using our baggage conveyor for two BA flights. Ours from Newark, and a second from Chicago.

It looked as though they were unloading the Chicago bags first, despite all of the people waiting were on the Newark flight. There were bags going around endlessly on that belt. I swear, that in the 45 minutes I spent waiting, the first 15-20 bags stayed exactly where they were, filling up the belt. And jus when you think you can see your bag coming around, someone else picks it up, as you realise it’s not your bag. I even picked a bag that was exactly like mine, until I checked the label, and then some young lady took.

Eventually, I walked through Customs, and came into the International Arrivals lounge, where there were loads of business men, and chauffeurs with boards. And at the very back, a lone women standing with dishevelled hair, waving like she had just escaped from a local looney bin. Yes, it was my Mum, obviously pleased to see me.

A long time ago, I stated that I really haven’t been on holiday, unless I have been to a Little Chef. This stems from years of holiday when I was younger on the Norfolk Broads. You could bet your life, that at some point during the trip (normally twice) we would go for a Little Chef as lunch or dinner or on the trip there or home. And so, for my very first meal in Britain since leaving for the states, I had a Little Chef Olympic Breakfast. And they do make good sausages…

So we carried on towards home, in my Dad’s car (Ernie was at home, we’d already discussed it), and it was taking forever. Because of the detour to the Little Chef, we had to take the back roads. So when we got near home, I was very excited in anticipation of seeing my beautiful car. I was talking with Andy (a very senior officer in the corps) and he asked if my car would be shiny and clean for my return.

Of course not.

Dad had dressed my car, like one of the characters from the Disney film cars, and my brother had spent his last few days, filling my car with 156 balloons. They were all pleased to see me back, I guess…
Well, now that I’m back, CATCOUK will probably return to normal service. And by that, I mean you should all expect delays, and disappointments. Welcome back to Britain!

If you think I should have stayed in the US, why not leave a comment, starting your message with ‘I can’t wait for you to go back next year’.

If you are pleased to have me back, why not leave a comment, starting your message with ‘I can’t wait for you to come back next year’.

Quote of the Week: ‘So, at the bottom of the ocean, there’s enough pressure to liquidise Hydrogen?’ asked my brother, after he questioned me on how water can exist without oxygen. I told him it only existed as pure Hydrogen at the very deepest part of the oceans.

Goodbyes and Farewells

Apologies for the delay. Technical difficulties. Please read on…

So this was the very last week of camp this week. To start with, we brought down the entirety of the camp’s canvas (all the tents and tarps). And wasn’t that exciting boys and girls? The next day we did something equally as thrilling. What an exciting start to my final week at camp.

On Monday, we had to go out to the lake and collect the boat. We had several people offer to help us with the boat. Anyone would think that camp shut down was boring or something… In the end, we had one of the past sailing directors with us (as I have no idea about how to put away a boat that big), her husband, and health officer Pat, my boss, Jo (my assistant for next year), and myself.

You may remember earlier on this year, I spoke about Pat driving me to hospital. And on that trip, Pat took out a mail box with the camp’s road legal monster truck (called a GMC Suburban over here). Because of that, he was not allowed to drive the truck, so Jordan offered to drive. As it turns out, Jordan is a maniac! But before we talk about that, I break the conversation for some exciting news!

Most guys my age might get excited, and brag about making love to a beautiful woman. What am I going to cheer about? Driving the Suburban of course! Last week Jordan asked me to drive for the food run, but I owned up and said that I couldn’t because of the rules. Well, when we towed the boat off the slipway on the trailer, everyone else was fiddling with the winch that was non-operational.

Well, I saw no point in me getting my feet wet, so I stayed in the truck, and watched. Eventually, I told them not to bother. And they needed someone to pull the boat from the water. And yes, I was that man! You have to understand, that just typing this, I have a huge grin on my face. Can you imagine how elated I was, when I got behind the wheel of that big blue 6.5 litre V8 beast! Furthermore, I enjoy different driving challenges.

Not only did I get to drive the ‘burban, but I was towing 1000 pounds (weight) of boat as well! Even more amazing, is how little it effected the pull of the truck. All 100 metres of driving from the slip, and through the parking lot (more American terms) was bliss. Immense. [Sigh]. For I will never know that level of driving perfection again… (Yes, I know. I really need to get a girlfriend, or just get out more.)

Anyways, on the way home, Jordan took the helm again, and steered us back to camp. As it turns out, he is a mad driver. We were just chatting in the truck, and the rest of the guys were in a car behind. On the way back, Jordan might have slightly exceeded the speed limit. In a ‘work zone’. I didn’t notice (it’s a big truck).

The week progressed onwards, and the shutdown ‘week’ was over by Tuesday, so that on Wednesday, we could go on our end of year staff trip to Hershey Park (yes like the chocolate). It was basically a theme park, but had a small zoo attached to it, as well as a museum of Hershey chocolate. It turns out, my mum has a job there.
Now before I start getting hundreds upon hundreds of E-mails, complaining about how I just slagged off my mum, I should point out that mum calls me Roo (as in Andrew), so I call her Moo. Hence why she was there. Okay? Good.

After that, I was picked up by my sponsor troop from New Jersey, and taken ‘home’ to Dunellen. Once again, the great guys from Troop 29 have taken care of me, and I’ve done some great things. Saturday morning, I walked over the Brooklyn Bridge (if you don’t know which one that is, just picture a bridge in New York, and you’ll know which one), and then went to the top of the Empire State Building. What an amazing experience! And the view from the top was tremendous.

Since the destruction of the World Trade Centre, the Empire State is once again the tallest skyscraper in New York City. From the top of there, it just feels like you are sitting on top of the city. I can see why King Kong liked it up there so much…

Lastly, I need to finish this week’s delayed post with an amazing report. On Sunday 19th August 2007, I gave my first autograph! That’s right, a waitress in Applebee’s (a family dining chain in the states) recognised my voice. In the US, a car insurance company advertises itself with an English speaking Gecko. She heard my voice, and new it was me that does the voice…

Normally I would point out the mistake, but Bill Vincent (the guy that I was with) egged her on, so I thought ‘Well, when in Rome…’. The funniest thing is, the Gekko is voiced by a Londoner. To see what I’m on about, see here (YouTube).

Well, it’s with a sense of poetic justice, that when I started writing this post, I was in Dunellen, New Jersey, but I am finishing it here, sitting at my usual desk in Angmering, Sussex. And that concludes the annals of my American adventure. Tune in next week, to find out what happened when I returned to the UK. Although I would like to add, that by not posting, I got an almost record number of comments in a few days…

If you think I should have just posted this, instead of wasting more time by fishing for comments, why not leave a comment.

If you read this blog every week, but have never left a comment, you are a thief.

Quote of the Week: ‘We are now boarding British Airways flight 184 for London Heathrow, at Gate 68…’

Late post alert

Gees, who does this guy think he is? Another late post? No committment, that's the problem.

Tune in Monday evening/ Tuesday morning.

The End?

Well, I’d like to start with a moan. I can’t remember the last time you lot did this to me, but it was ages ago. No one left any comments on last week’s post. I didn’t think it was that bad, or did none of you go to work on Monday morning? Either way, my feelings are wounded.

On to more important things. That’s right, even though you couldn’t bothered to take 30 seconds of your life to write me a comment (good or bad), I am still going to sit here and type up my story for an hour. This week was the last week of program here at Ockanickon Scout Reservation. And it was one very busy week.

You may remember a few weeks ago that I told you we were averaging more than 6 Scouts a week in our program, despite our maximum being 6. Well this week, someone had overbooked the campsite, by two hundred campers (or there abouts). Moreover, it was only two weeks ago when I was doing tent assignments that we noticed this. ‘Err… Tom. We have 60 more campers than we have beds for….’

But this is Ockanickon, the Scout camp where anything can happen. Somehow (11 new tent platforms later, and several other ‘stand-alone’ tents) we managed to get everyone here. Add to this, the people we invited back after the virus of week one and two on Thursday and Friday, and we had near as makes no difference 1000 people on camp. And that’s a lot.

In sailing this week, 13 people took the sailing merit badge, which is more than double our capacity. It just took some logistical genius, and a program so difficult to follow, you have to have a rocket science degree to understand it. But we did it. Leaving our end of season weekly average at 7.5 Scouts.

Because of the excessive number of people in camp this week, we couldn’t fit everyone into the dining hall. Anyone coming back to ‘make-up’ their camp from weeks one and two had to eat at their campsite (which was completely new). For this, the camp had to assemble a crack team, an elite force if you will.

Operation Dessert Storm! (as apposed to the desert of the sandy variety)

To lead this catering extravaganza, a team was needed. But not just any team. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you are hungry, maybe you can hire, the MEAL A Team! (We have two meal seatings at camp, Meal A and Meal B).

After that complete pun experience, I’m sure that I don’t need to say anymore. Lead by my tent mate and friend, Jordan ‘Big Daddy’ Kivitz, with me Andy ‘Candy Pants’ Clarke, we were all set to deliver 50 meals in our white Dodge minibus (not quite the A Team van I know).

That made up the funnest part of my week.

Up until now, my American experience has been plagued by a variety of different illnesses and injuries. To date we have: poison ivy, broken and sprained ankle, NORO virus, bad bee sting with allergic reaction, bad back, and now [drum roll please]…

A THROAT INFECTION

I think it’s from the tail end of a bug that I’ve had all week. But it’s all been a bit bizarre. On Thursday night, we were watching a DVD of V for Vendetta (good movie), and this bug caused me to go deaf in one ear. I have no idea what is causing it, but I know that I am bored of it now.

Lastly, I feel that I should pass on my wisdom. On Wednesday night, I was taken out to a movie by an old staff member. The most important factor in this, is that the old (as in previous) staff member was attractive and female. I had almost forgotten what a woman was.

Anyways, we went out to the movies and saw ‘The Simpsons Movie’. Absolutely hilariously funny. As always, we have an official CATCOUK rating. So how many Escorts out of 5 did the movie earn?

5 Escorts out of 5 – If you like the Simpsons, you’ll LOVE this film. SpiderPig does whatever SpiderPig does.

Well, we are now closing down the camp, and I’ll be home in just over a week. Hope all is still well in Britain, and that Monty and Ernie are looking forward to my return, I can’t wait to see them. This may be my last post until I return, so don’t worry if nothing appears next week. See you in two weeks.

Countdown to Britain (as of Monday 0900): 184 hours.

If you never read this blog, and hate it, why not not leave a comment, and don’t start it with ‘don’t bother writing this dribble’.

If you do read this, and want to continue to do so, why not take the time to write something within the next two weeks. I bet you can’t beat the CATCOUK record of 12 comments.

Quote of the Week: ‘Well, you are sub-amazing’ said Todd Warner (the only man whose glare can be felt from 10 miles away) after I said that I wasn’t as amazing as him.

Song of the Month (because I forgot last week): Don’t Bring Me Down. Electric Light Orchestra (ELO).

Use the book as the bee does…

Well this week has been a fairly non-descript week in America. I like to think that that has been fully reflected by this week’s post title. No I don’t understand it either.

Just to show how non descript this week has been, I start this week with Terry Robinson’s epic battle to end the leader’s introductory meeting by 9.40pm (for goodness sake – how did this even make the cut). So by now, you will have realised that I am clutching at straws, but you’re reading on, so I’ll keep writing.

Every Sunday evening, a bunch of senior staff members, and department heads give a series of talks to the leaders of the Scout troops that are in for the week. I go as Asst. Sailing Director, because my boss has stuff to do at the camp fire, which runs concurrently with the meeting. It has appeared that as the season has gone on, our Leader’s meetings have gotten longer and longer. Mainly through contributions from talkative department heads (myself included).

One of our Asst. Camp Directors, Terry, decided this week that we needed to get the meeting over and done with sooner, so that the staff could actually get some sleep before the morning. As I sat down after my Sailing talk, Terry announced to the staff that he would have this meeting wrapped up by 9.40. Usually, we aren’t done until 10. ‘You reckless fool, Terry’ was my reply. It seemed to me like trying to drive a car at 5 miles an hour over the speed limit to get to the takeaway before it closes.

As the department heads had finished, Terry stood up, with a whole third of a meeting to go. Up to this point, the meeting had taken an hour and three minutes, and the time was now 9.33. Terry had seven minutes to complete the meeting. As Terry stood up, everyone could hear the Rocky fanfare in their head. Terry approached the podium, and a full band marched in playing the full orchestral version of the entire Rocky theme. Well that’s how it sounded in my head.

Oh, I know you are all dying to know if Terry achieved this Olympian feat. And yes he did. By 40 whole seconds…

You may remember last week I spoke of an amazing man by the name of Todd Warner (a man so amazing, that he has eight days in his week, he has an extra day between Saturday and Sunday). This week, one of our departments was short staffed, so our amazing colleague stepped into the breach, and taught Citizenship in the Nation. I have never had so many comments of praise and amazement about a class in this department. What he was doing with those kids this week I don’t know, but whatever is was, it was amazing…

Now, I wouldn’t go as far as saying that I am an odd person, but I am an odd person. In this week, the 8th week of my American experience, I finally succumbed to experience homesickness (or domestic nostalgia as the Boy Scouts of America call it). Now this sounds perfectly normal doesn’t it? But it’s me that we’re talking about, and of course I wouldn’t suffer homesickness in the normal way.

Most people would miss their mum, or their family, or maybe even their friends. Now to be fair, I do miss everyone to a point, but not so much that it has caused me to feel homesick. Not even being separated from Monty, my cat, caused my homesickness. No, in actual fact, what did I miss most? Ernie, my car! What kind of weirdo am I?

I really miss driving. Pat (our Health Officer) described my approach to cars and driving, like 17 year old boys approach to the fairer sex. And to be fair, I really do miss my car. So much that it almost hurts. I am weird.

Since about week 4, our ‘big’ sailing boat has not worked quite properly. No one here (including myself) really knew what was causing this. Whilst I am more than capable of running a competent sailing program, but I don’t know an awful lot about repairing large boats. The vast majority of my sailing experience is with small boats.

So I E-mailed the boating manager back home at the NTC. My theory is, that if Ian Jones doesn’t know it about sailing, it’s not worth knowing. He came up with a variety of options, that I have been playing with, to no real effect.

One of the options, was that there was too much weight at the front of the boat. I have looked throughout the foreward cabin, and found to excess weight that wasn’t their week one. And the anchor on the foredeck isn’t that heavy.

This week, I finally decided I was bored of not being able to sail close to the wind, so I stripped the foreward cabin. When I did this, I found that there were two forward compartments that I didn’t know about. The first hold was empty, and the second hatch lead right to the bowels of the hull. And what did I find? Gallons upon gallons of water.

No, I don’t know how it got there. And no, I don’t want to know how it got there. Needless to say, I think I may have found the source of excess weight that was causing us issues. Marvellous. We are emptying out the boat tomorrow, so you can find out how successful this was next week (what a subject to look forward to…).

Lastly, this weekend I got to visit a town called New Hope. How to describe New Hope… Oh yeah. It’s basically Brighton without the beach. And American. You’ll get the idea of the town, when I tell you that the town’s flag is a rainbow…

‘So Andy,’ asked many staff members today, ‘how was New Hope’. To which I replied, ‘Eclectic.’ To write about all of the establishments that I visited would be highly Scout INappropriate. And I’m not talking about alcohol for a change. All I can say is, that Pat has some… er… interesting hobbies.

After our eclectic visit to New Hope, we went to a local vineyard to do some wine tasting. Obviously we were all asked if we were legal. Of course I said that I was. Well in England at least. Who’s worried about US Federal Law… Now, I am not a big wine drinker, so I didn’t dare break the local laws and try any of the wine. Nor did I prove how light weight my alcohol stamina is by feeling a bit dizzy after trying just 10 wines. Lastly, I wouldn’t know that I have a taste for sweet wines…

Well, I hear that the weather is now improving from torrential downpour to light drizzle, so I hope that you are all okay, and that Britain is no longer sinking into the Atlantic. Hello to all my friends, family, and especially Monty, and most defiantly my car, Ernie the Escort.

Countdown to Britain (as of Monday 0900): 352 hours.

If you think that this was a mediocre entry, and that I am a bizarre person, why not leave a comment starting your message with the word ‘weirdo’.

If you think that this was a mediocre entry, and that I am a sub-bizarre persin, why not leave a comment starting you message with the word ‘asparagus’.

Quote of the Week: [Please imagine in a slightly Southern male accent] ‘Give a girl a chance, and they don’t smell too fine either,’ said a Scout in response to my comment that being amongst men all day every day for three months is fine, but women look and smell a lot nicer.

Golf Driver (okay, so that’s going to be a bad pun)

Good day one and all. Glad tidings of joy from across the pond, in the good ol’ US of A.

This week has been a brilliant week for me. ‘Even better than hand gun shooting?’ I hear you cry. Of course not, but I have still had an absolute hoot this week. The weekend was also full of surprisingly good fun.

On Tuesday, the staff finally got out on our first staff trip of the year. I’m in America, 5 and a half thousand miles away from home, with 30 Americans. What would you do for a typical American night out? That’s right… CRAZY (miniature) GOLF!

Not all of the staff could leave of course, people still have activities to run, and the camp to look after. So about 30 of us packed into a convoy of cars, bound for the Pine Creek Miniature Golf Course in New Jersey. The course claims to be the biggest in America, and has two 18 hole mini-golf courses.

I had a good time. Although many of my American friends are now convinced that we don’t have Golf in the UK, as I managed to really suck (that’s an Americanism) at the game. I’m sorry Britain, I have shamed us in the art of crazy golf.

But my Tuesday night did not end there. When we got back to camp, at around 10.30pm, several staff members were feeling ‘thirsty’. So we decided to go to a local… how can I put this subtly… beverage retailer. But better than this, was the fact that the most amazing man alive (Tod Warner is the only man I know that can slam a revolving door) let me drive his car.
The Amazing-Mobile - Todd Warner's (the only man that can beat both rock and scissors in a game of rock paper scissors) 3 litre Honda.

That’s right, I was allowed to drive a 3 litre Honda Accord (and it went like poo poo of a shovel). Tod (who’s calendar goes from April 2nd to March 31st – no one fool’s Todd Warner) has a great car. Not only because it is powerful, fast, and well kitted out, but it has a manual gear box!!! Only Todd Warner (who selects one lucky child every year on his birthday to be hurled into the sun) could drive a manual in the US.

We arrived at the bar, and the bar maid asked to see our idea. As Des of course, I was not going to drink anything more than coke, but in the US, many places don’t let under age youths in after 11. Furthermore, the age limit over here is 21. Oh dear, I hear you say (as I am only 20). So I handed over my British driving license, she gave it a confused look, and I told here that it was UK. She smiled at me, and carried on. As Pat Toye has said some weeks previously when he read my license ‘Oh excellent! It’s written in British’.

But why is Todd Warner (who never sleeps, he waits…) so amazing. Well this is the story. On a trip somewhere, he single handed paddled across a lake, during a thunderstorm, in an aluminium canoe. (Okay, so maybe he’s mad.) He did this to get to an island to save three kids. He then paddled back with three unconscious kids, whilst performing CPR as needed. On dry land, he then carried all three (including CPR) to safety. Two of the three kids lived.

And that kids, is why Todd Warner (who is so amazing, he can win noughts and crosses [tic-tac-toe for US citizens] in one move) is so amazing.

But it turns out, that some of that amazing is rubbing off on me. Although I am only the (Assistant) Sailing Director, I believe I may have helped influence the following: Last week nobody signed up to take Sailing merit badge, yet 4 people achieved the badge (persuasion); Despite the fact that the merit badge programme has a maximum of 6 Scouts each week, our current average is 6.83 Scouts taking the badge per week. I know, my boss does a good job…

So, the Boy Scouts of America (BSA) salute their flag just like the NTC salute the Union Flag. Now, as an Assistant Scoutmaster, I have a BSA uniform, but every other day, I wear my NTC uniform. When I’m wearing this uniform, I try and enter the parade field subtly, by coming around behind the Troops, and join the end of the staff line. This Friday, the normal parade marshal (Joe) wanted to Bugle, and we were short of people to give orders.

Anyways, I turn up, and Asst. Camp Director says ‘Hey Andy! You’re Parade Marshal.’ Okay… So I did. Although I am a little out of practice though. I was actually a little nervous giving orders to 500 American Scouts. That would be another tick in the book then…

Lastly, this weekend, I travelled through three states (Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland) to go to the St. Michael’s Bay area of the Chesapeake Bay. It was a beautiful fishing town, and walking around the marina of the harbour reminded me very much of trips to Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight on beautiful summer evenings (although apparently, since I left, Blighty hasn’t had many of them…). Crab-Fest 2007: (from left to right) Bill Mischke [Camp Director], Tom Leitz [Asst. Camp Director], and me [Asst. Sailing Director, Commissioner].

I should point out, that the area is ludicrously expensive to live in (the Vice President of the US lives there), and we were staying at the Camp Director’s holiday home with him, and his wife. The other Asst. Camp Director, Tom, drove us down there. Our main reason for visiting was to go to ‘Crab-Fest’. Basically an all you can eat crab eating event. I’m not a great fan of seafood, but they had other stuff there, and I was happy. Until know, I could have said that I have never had crabs, but now I shall have to live on in shame that I had this STD. Oh no, sorry, I mean I have eaten Chesapeake Blue Crab.

They may have fooled the Britsh 200 years ago, but apparenty we still managed to invade!

St. Michaels is known well for being the town that fooled the British. When we tried to invade, they hung lanterns in the trees above, so that the Royal Navy, shot over the town. Well, my response is that it just goes to show how deathly accurate our Navy was, that the down was vertually undamaged.

Well, I am doing marvellously. I suppose we should start a count down to my illustrious return to the UK. From Tuesday at 0600, it will be less than three week, until I am once again in the British Empire! I hope all is well back home, and that the Montacat and the world heritage site Ford Escort that is Ernie is doing well.

If you think that this blog was cra-b, why not leave a comment and tell me.

If you think that this blog was back to it’s normal drive and determination, why not leave a comment and tell me.

Quote of the Week: [Okay, so rarely do I say something stupid enough to get here, but I admit, it was me] ‘So, which cost more: the blue crabs, or the red ones’ said a bemused Andy as he looked at a cooked Blue Crab. I know, I’m a dumb ass.

Am I turning into an American?

Good day all my faithful readers old and new. Apologies for last week’s late and substandard post. It was rushed to get something up. As I mentioned last week, I have been given a promotion to ‘Commissioner’ which is basically a bit like a customer services job. And it never ends!

But hey, there you go.

So this week has been an interesting one. I finally found a set of scales to weigh myself. I am mortally aware that food in the US is tasty and plentiful. So I decided it was quite important to see how much weight I had gained (especially with the whole inactivity due to the broken ankle business). It would appear that I know weigh 170 pounds (which is 12st 2lb). When I left Britain, I only used to weigh 11st 5lb! I’ve gained 11 pounds!!!!

I am now resisting the urge to eat all of their tasty food, although I am failing miserably at the moment…

For some bizarre reason our sail boat (yacht) stopped working last week. Management felt that they knew what the problem is, and ordered the part. Well, delivery being what it is, it took the part the whole week to arrive, which put the yacht out of action for the entire week. But I guess that makes me and my boss Sam, the most amazing sailing instructors ever…

With our usual 22ft sloop out of action, we had to instruct a sailing merit badge, armed only with one small dinghy (a SunFish), and a small lake/ puddle with no wind. By Thursday, we had covered all of the theory, and done all of the stuff that we could physically do without any wind. I told the kids and adults to pray to whoever or whatever they believed in that either the part came early Friday morning, or that Great Buck Lake somehow had wind in the morning.

Well our prayers were answered. Somehow, through nothing more than luck, the Great Buck Lake had wind for just long enough for the kids to get the requirements done to get their merit badge. Just as the last pair were coming in, the wind died! Now, don’t get me wrong, it was not the high level of quality instruction, or experience that I wanted the kids to have, but they all left with a smile.

We scraped something together, the kids had a fun time (doing other stuff other than sailing, and ice cream may have been involved), and blow me down of the kids didn’t complete their badge. Even now, I’m not sure how they did it.

Of course, we also have to have my interesting injury of the week. The running total at the moment is: poison ivy, broken and sprained ankle, NORO virus, and now… (drum roll please)

Some sort of bite!!!

Overnight I was bitten by something. God knows what, but it blew up immensely. I have only one theory. It must have been my tent mate that bit me: Jordan Kivitz, the climbing director… Ironic really, as you will never meet a nicer human being than Jordan. He is just marijuana away from being a full time proper hippy.

As I said earlier, I now commission. And with this job, I meet lots of interesting people, and get to know most of the Adult Leaders (although I am still useless with names). You may remember some weeks ago that an American gentleman left a comment/ complaint on CATCOUK, and I was forced to make an apology. Well this week, I met him in person (I think). Either way, he has defiantly read CATCOUK before, and was originally (and coincidentally) from Chiswick in the UK. Small world, eh?

Well it gets smaller still. Over the weekend, we have some younger kids and families inn camping. I was told that a lady from the UK was camping, and that she was from Sussex. I went to meet her, and find out where in Sussex she was from. As it turns out she grew up in West Sussex, near Brighton. Well I told her that I live near Littlehampton, and she said that she actually came from a village near Worthing called Lancing! Well beggar me silly if she didn’t live less than a mile from where I grew up.

She did kind of prove my old saying though: ‘You can take the girl out if Lancing, but you can’t take the Lancing out of the girl…’. It was fantastic to talk to her. Although she had an American twinge to her voice, she still spoke with typical Lancing dialects. Most stereotypically, instead of saying South, she said Souf. I hadn’t heard my home dialect for a while…

The Amazing GMC Suburban - statistically the only car big enough to eat another car - whole.

But I suppose I should try and cover my title for this week. As I said above, I am putting on weight, at nearly two pounds a week (as if my self-esteem didn’t need any more knocking). Furthermore, I am taking a liking to the big American cars (particularly the legend that is the GMC/ Chevrolet Suburban). And this weekend, the Asst. Camp Director, Terry, and his brother took me hand gun shooting!

Furthermore, I loved it! We fired three hand guns: a Smith & Wesson 357, and two semi-automatic hand guns. I always thought that I would prefer to shoot a semi-automatic, but having shot both, I really enjoyed the old school revolver. At this point, I should point out that I didn’t enjoy it for the violent banging. I enjoyed the skill and accuracy afforded by the Smith & Wesson.

But I will admit that after that, I couldn’t get the Dirty Harry theme tune out of my head…

I was also surprisingly good. Below are some pictures of targets that I shot at from 7 yards, and 25 yards. With the Smith & Wesson 357, we had two types of round. Some 38 Special rounds, which are less violent, and some 357 rounds, which had one hell of a back draft to them. I fired 6 shots at the plate from 25 yards, 4 were the more gentle 38 special, and the first two were the 357’s. Unsuprisingly, the 357’s missed wildly, but I got 3 and a half of the 38’s on target. After this, the camp are considering me for shooting sports director...

Standard target from 7 yards, 18 shots.

A plate from 25 yards. 3 and half hits. Dirty Harry eat your heart out.

So I now live in real fear that I maybe turning into an American. Gaining weight, like big cars, like shooting hand guns. What does that say to you.

Once again, highest regards to everyone back home, especially Montycat, and Ernie.

If you think that I am turning into an American, why not leave a comment telling me how fat you think I am.

If you think I may be over-reacting a little, why not leave a comment calling me back to Blighty!

Quote of the Week: (alright so it was last week, but it’s good) ‘The [work] chip in my head switched off on Tuesday, when I was singing ‘moo moo here, and moo moo there’ said a disgruntled Scout Master when someone got him talking about work on Friday evening.

Half way already?

Apologies for the late blog this week. I hope that you all enjoyed getting paid to actually do your job for a change…

First of all, I would like to set of another set of imaginary CATCOUK fireworks. The camp has made it to the end of another week, but more importantly, every Scout that took the Sailing merit badge completed it!!!! We’re starting to make a habit of this!

Well, I’ve had a pretty good week. More mornings of relaxing sailing, and afternoons of… well nothing actually. So Administration have seen to that. I have been ‘promoted’! I know hold the position of ‘commissioner’, which basically means that I go around Scout Troops, and listen to their problems, before going and kicking the relevant people to sort out their problems. But I’m sure this will all be in next week’s post, as I have just been given the position.

So why, oh why was this week’s CATCOUK fest so late? I suppose you’re all expecting a long winded post to explain myself. Well tough luck. I don’t have that sort of time anymore. I have to go and listen to some Scoutmasters moan (or sometimes just have a nice conversation, I am the unofficial director of happiness after all)…

But the abridged version goes like this.

My sponsor troop (T29 Dunellen, N.J.) are on their summer camp this week. They were unable to book into Ockanickon, so they went to our archrival camp, Resical Falls. Of course when I say archrival, I just mean that they are one of the closest camps to us. We’re in no danger at the moment. We see 500 Scouts in a week, and they see nearer to 300.

It was interesting to see another camp in action. It would be unfair to compare the campsites, as the programs offered by each camp are different. So lets do it anyway!

Resica Falls defiantly has a better check in process than us. It was very smooth, although our guide was a little inexperienced. They also have a far better swimming pool than us (but it is brand new). Also, Resica has a huge amount of land (a leaflet I read said nearly 5 000 acres!), so you can explore the grounds at length. They also have some cool water falls.

However, we appear to have a more experienced staff (mainly owing to the fact that we steal all of their good staff every year). Our program is also far better organised. One of their comments at a leaders meeting really made me laugh. The Dan Beard (a small kid starter program) director was taking numbers of his program. He’s counting up the numbers from Scout Masters, and his face drops. “Er… guys. I have 51 Scouts here. I can’t take this many.” Now this seems a reasonable statement to make. 51 children sound like a lot. Except for the fact that our amazing Dan Beard director Kevin ‘Karen Sugarpie’ Ott (Otter) had nearly 150 Scouts last week.

That’s just one small example. The other big issue that Resica have, is that their boating lake is a mile’s walk up ‘Heart Attack Ridge’ (a huge hill). Whoever built the campsite should be shot. Everything else in their main programming was close to the site, and well thought out. So why not build the campsite closer to the friggin’ boating lake?!?!? Sigh.

But it was a really good weekend.

At this point, I should point out that I am now half way through my US experience. And I feel the need to thank the people responsible for this. You could all thank them too, as they got rid of me out of the country for three months. Bill Mischke, the camp director (taking very good care of me, and has the driest wit known to man), Chris Quinn (Troop 29 Scout Master, and coordinates my moving about in the US), Cindy Quinn (Chris’ wife, and my adopted Mum), Bill Vincent (and family, who have taken me home twice), Ian Jones (NTC guy that organises things from the UK), and all the staff at Ockanickon. Special mention also to Ken Riley, who liased the whole American exchange program in the first place, with Troop 29 with the NTC. Without all of whom, none of this.

Well I hope things are still holding together in Britain. Missing you all (and by all, I mean Ernie, and Monty).

Hopefully next week will be on time.

If you can think of something to write right now, why not leave a comment and extend this incredibly short blog.

If you can’t think of something to write about right now, why not leave a comment saying so, and extend this incredibly short blog.

Quote of the Week: ‘Thank God for that. I wasn’t sure if it was hot in here, or if I was having a Heart Attack!’ said my sponsor troop Scout Master (Chris Quinn), as he inquired if the car’s Air Conditioning was on.

Late Announcement

Who knows if announcement is spelled correctly, but never the less, this weeks thrilling (ha ha) installment of CATCOUK will be a few days late (might even be Wednesday). Apologies to all, but I guess you'll just have to do some work at work on Monday.

Check back on Tuesday/ Wednesday to see why this was late!

Independance!

I would like to start off by saying that I have had a brilliant week. As you read this, please imagine me grinning like a Cheshire Cat, that’s how happy I am!

So why, I hear you ask, am I so happy. Well, primarily I am no longer on crutches (please imagine fireworks, and crowds of people cheering). But that’s not all that’s happened this week. Feel the suspense, and read on…

On Tuesday, I had my appointment with an Orthopaedic doctor. The American health care system is full of paperwork! I was asked to arrive 15 minutes before my appointment, just so that I had time to fill out the 4000 sheets of paper (I might be exaggerating slightly). I then had to wait half an hour to see the doctor (almost made me homesick, reminds me of the NHS).

So anyway, the doctor prodded and poked my ankle, and nothing really hurt. I have one sore spot, and that’s about it. He said that I may as well walk on it, to help mobilise the damaged ligament. Thanks to this, it now only takes me 10 minutes to walk across the campsite instead of 40. I have some independence again.

The doctor’s practice was located about a 30 minute drive away, and unfortunately I don’t have Ernie with me (he wouldn’t fit in my luggage, despite all the American’s insisting he would…). The health officer, Pat, drove me there in one of the camp’s 4x4s. But not just any 4x4. It is the car, that if I lived in America, I would defiantly drive.

The car is well known throughout the US, as being the only car big enough to eat other cars whole! They are awesome. This particular ‘burb (as they’re called) is a 6.5 ltr V8, and gets an incredible 8 miles to the gallon on a good day. Being as big as they are (even bigger than Volvo estates), it is inevitable that they will hit something. Unfortunatly for Pat, we hit an American mailbox (which stick out a little).

Pat + Suburban = ?. No Algebra involved here, just one very Suburbaned mailbox. And this was after Pat stood the pole up from it's 30 to 40 degree lean.

Pat being the good American Eagle Boy Scout that he is (a Scout is honest…) stopped to check the damage, and tell the owner. I think it’s fair to say that the mailbox was well and truly Suburban’d (that’s right, it’s the only US car to have a verb). Also unfortunately for Pat, the mailbox is/was customised, and on a very expensive looking wooden plinth.

The driveway that lead to the house is about the same length as the M1, and to get to the house, you had to pass their tennis court, their swimming pool, their fleet of expensive looking cars… you get the idea. The place was so big it could have been a country club (although it definitely wasn’t). Poor Pat, it was probably a $600 mailbox, but we haven’t heard from the gentleman yet.

As much fun as Suburbaning a mailbox is, that was not the extent of my great week. Now that I am walking on my broken ankle again (which, by the way, has multiple fractures…), I am cleared to go sailing again. I can think of no better way of spending my day, than by relaxing on a sail boat, sailing in the sunshine. Marvellous.

The next day was Wednesday the 4th of July. The Americans were really nice, as they held a day all about me. Clearly everyone was so pleased that the orthopaedic doctor had given me my independence back, they had a day to celebrate it. They even called it ‘Independence Day’…

Of course not! This was the day that the US celebrate their independence from the evil empire of the dark side and the Darth Vader and his Death Star (or was that Star Wars?). Anyways, down with the Empire and all that. To celebrate, the camp had a giant flag folding ceremony. The flag was big enough to make a tent, yet there was no wind. It was more a flag draping ceremony.

Also this week, we didn’t have an attack of the death. We had no confirmed cases, and one and a half possible cases. Anyone that started to be ill were sent home. At check in, Scouts were asked if they had been ill in the last 24 hours. If they had, they were sent home. Every time someone was sent home, staff members bleached the hell out of their tents, camping areas, and latrines. It was only just possible for people to live this week, let alone any viruses.

Also this week, the programme manager (like a Chief of Staff) told me to fill out an application form for next year. So I did, and just for laughs, under desired salary, I put plane ticket. I left it in my tent, and went off. Later that day (bearing in mind, my application is still sitting in my tent), the boss came up to me and said, ‘So Andy, what would it take to get you to repeat this year?’ To which I replied, ‘A plane ticket Bill’. So he said yes.

The next day, I was in the office doing some ‘paperwork’ on my laptop, and another friend, Dylan, asked if I would be coming back next year. I said it was looking fairly likely, at which point a deep voice came form Bill’s (the boss) direction saying ‘Yes, he’ll be here next year’. Look’s like I’ll be coming back to the states again next year! How cool is that! Yes, it will cause NTC problems again, and yes, I’ll miss Summer in Britain again. But hey ho. I love it out here, and if I could, I’d probably do this for years. Why can’t we have America in Sussex?

But what really topped my week off though, was this week’s leader evaluations. On the forms, there is a section to identify particular members of staff that are good. This week, one troop singled me out for excellence, another troop listed me as a member of staff that was ‘most knowledgeable’ and another troop listed me as ‘most helpful’. What really took the cookie (notice the American-ism there) was that one troop listed me as the member of staff with the most Scout spirit. Well there’s irony for you, I’m not even really a Scout!

Over the weekend, a friend (Anthony) took me to a super large flea market (a car boot sale by any other name) called Q-mart. This is in the kind of town where everybody is either related to everybody else, of are sons and daughters of someone, and they just don’t know it. But the market was amazing. So much junk, like you have never seen. My friend picked up a compound archery bow for $5!

Well I hope Blighty is going well. Has Gordon Brown broken the country yet? I hope my car is okay, and Monty has avoided our neighbours cat trap (apparently we have a few stays at the mo – can you imagine the look on my cat’s face if he got caught in the cat trap… lol). I’d like to finish by saying that I am missing you all, but I can’t lie. A Scout is honest!

Lastly, if you haven’t already, please read the apology below. Apparently British wit is lost on the American people. Read right to the end, and you’ll find a surprise especially for YOU (not all the other readers, just for you).

For more things Andy in the US, you can visit the TS Intrepid Website at www.ntc.org.uk/intrepid/ock/. Lots of photos.

If you think it’s good that I’ll be in the US again next year, and would like me to stay out here permanently, so that I stop wasting your fine British air, why not leave a comment, starting your message with ‘I hate you’.

If you think it’s good that I’ll be in the US again next year, because you think it’s a great opportunity for me, and you know I enjoy it, why not leave a comment, starting your message with ‘I’m a figment of your imagination, as only angry Americans sign your blog…’.

Quote of the Week: ‘You know, it’s incredible. You’ve been in America for four weeks, and you still don’t have an accent?’ said a very confused Moo Moo (my Mum) on the phone the other day.

An Public Message from CATCOUK

I make this public message to apologise to anyone that read either of my previous blog posts. I recieved the following comment/ complaint from an ananoymous reader:

I came upon your blog when looking on the internet to see if there was much negative publicity about the virus. I'm disppointed with what you've written. Instead of speaking so disparagingly about the camp, why don't you tell your readers about everything that makes the camp wonderful? To some kids - camp Ockanickon is like heaven. You write well for a young person - why don't you put that talent to some use by telling your friends about what being an American Boy Scout is all about?

First and foremost, I am most definatly not a Scout. I am an officer in the Nautical Training Corps on an exchange programme with the camp. However, it is fair to say that being a member of any youth organisation of this type is brilliant, and has provided me with some of my best memories. It was not my intent to portray Ockanickon Scout Reservation in a disparinging way. My actual intention was to praise the hard work in admiration of what the camp was able to achieve under such difficult circumstances. I am proud to be a member of staff at one of America's top Boy Scout camps.

Secondly, it is important to note that the camp management, my fellow colleagues and I all do the best we can for the welfare and enjoyment of the Scouts. When I am at home with the NTC, I always put the needs of the cadets first, and the same goes here. As an indicator of how much fun Ockanickon offers, the majority of troops that were here on week 1 and 2 (both of which were closed early due to illness) signed up for a week next year. Despite the illness that went around!

Lastly, regular readers of CATCOUK will know that my blog is always written in a reasonably negative aspect. I have always treated my blog as light entertainment, which usually involves telling of my misfortunes, or those of others, using a variety of sarcasm, irony, and dry wit. I take my responsibilty of writing thid blog seriously, and apologies once again for any misunderstandings.

On a lighter note, if you would like to know more, you can see the news story in video! Just go to: http://video.nbc10.com/player/?id=124585. NBC10 News. It must have been a slow news day. Ironically, 'Action News' turned up a day later. Not an awful lot of action from them eh? They're a day late!

This has been a Public Message from CATCOUK - The BlogSpot home of Andy Clarke.

Such it cracking time, it makes me sick…

Okay, so this has been a bad week.

Well, that’s an understatement. This has been a catastrophically bad week.

At the end of last week, I tripped over a log, and twisted my ankle to about 70 to 90 degrees. It hurt a bit at first, but after that my ankle was alright, I just had a slightly limited range of mobility. So I walked around on it all weekend. I should point out that I did seek medical advice at our ‘health lodge’. Unfortunately, I saw one of two health officers (one good, one pretty crap). Can you guess which one?

When the health officer returned this week after the weekend, I stopped by for a check up. And thankfully for me, Pat (the good health officer) was available to look at my ankle. He has a particular interest in ankles as it turns out, so I know I’m in good hands. He unwrapped my bandage, and took one look at my ankle, before saying two key words: X-ray, hospital. Fan-bloody-tastic.

As it turns out, Pat got it right on the nose. I have given my self an avulsion fracture (if you’re a bit squeamish, look away now). This is where I have sprained my ankle (pulled a ligament) so much, that when the ligament pulled, it ripped a bit of bone off of my foot at the same time. I hasten to add, that it still doesn’t hurt.

(If you are squeamish, you can look back again now) The quacks at the hospital decided that I shouldn’t put any weight on it, so for the first time in my life (that I can remember), I am using crutches. And what pain in the backside they are! Carleen, I can really appreciate your pain now. I am still at camp, although rather obviously, I can’t run rock-climbing any more. I believed that I could still go sailing, as all I have to do is sit in the cockpit. The boss (despite being grossly incompetent) could run around and pull ropes when everything goes wrong.

So my summer isn’t ruined. But wait! This is far too short for a CATCOUK post. That must mean that there is a ‘but’ coming here somewhere.

But… The afore mentioned good health officer won’t let me do anything, until I have seen the Orthopaedic surgeon. Well, it is the sensible thing to do, and I agree with it. It just rubs it in a bit more that I’m not the boss (or at least in position of some influence, like when I’m running an NTC camp). Oh it sucks being me at the moment.

Bill (the camp boss) said at the beginning of the week, that he was getting a golf cart ready for me to use. This is really important to me, as it is a big campsite. It took me one afternoon, 40 minute to get from the lake, to the health lodge, where it used to take me 10 to 15! Oh boy…

Of course that was not the end of my sucky week, oh no. Read the title carefully, and you’ll see that I have only covered half of my criptic title… Avid CATCOUK fans will remember that last week I spoke of the NORO virus (cruise ship virus) that had hit the camp, that we now affectionately call ‘the death’. Unsurprisingly, the camp contracted the virus again this week.

Wednesday night all hell broke loose once again, and we had to refit one of our building to become a M*A*S*H style triage ward. By this time, I had spent a hell of a lot of time in the ‘Health Lodge’ (being that I can’t do any activities), and I had proved useful, I can ask basic triage questions, do paperwork, and sort out the kids medication.

Once the ward was set up, Pat called for me, and asked me to run check in. So from 7 o’clock onwards, I checked it 30 people or so, checked out a few. At this point, we believed the sickness and dehydration was through heat exhaustion, as the effective temperature all day had been 105 F (something like 35 C), and so humid that you could practically swim through camp.

Unfortunately, it was not so. The virus had struck again, and far more quickly than last time. We ended up opening a second ward in another building, and the total number of reported cases on camp rose to 80 over night. At this point, I had still avoided catching the death.

It was about 11.30pm, and admissions were quiet. We were all chatting at one end of the hall. I had been feeling a bit funny all evening, but I assumed it was just because I had been surrounded by people throwing up (I have to digress for a second: my spell check thinks that last sentence should read because people throwing up had surrounded me. Think Shaun of the Dead…) Then without much warning, I turned to a colleague, and said. “Could you please get me a bucket”, and he looked at me blankly, half thinking I was joking, so I prompted with, “Now”.

The bucket arrived just in time. Again, we were still thinking it was just heat exhaustion. The management were leaving us with not enough people to do all the jobs, so even though I had just thrown up, I got up, and hobbled back to admissions, and checked in more people. Apparently the only reason things had quietened down, was because of rain.

Pat cleared me to work on the desk, and I admitted another 10 people or so. I worked as long as I could, until about 1am, and then I admitted myself…

The week was rounded off by what is becoming our traditional camp closure, and mass clean up. It comes to something when you can walk through a forest, and smell bleach in the air. I have to hand it to the camp, our response to the problem, and the clean up operation is very impressive. Here’s hoping for a good week three.

Everyone had to leave this weekend, even myself, and I live 5 500 miles away. Obviously I couldn’t go home, so I went to the next best place. Pat’s partner is British, and lives with her family (also, surprise surprise, British). Pat described their house as a protectorate of the British Isles, and I can see what he meant. I woke up Saturday morning, and the radio in the kitchen was on. I could swear blind that I could hear British voices. Sure enough, it was the BBC! Hurrah.

All the cars that they own are available in Britain (Ford Focus, Audi TT, VW Passat), and Molly (mum) said that they speak English. They use loos, not bathrooms to go to the toilet. It has been really nice spending the weekend in this small part of Britain. There were some complications getting in though. I left my passport with my host troop for safety, so I had trouble getting across the border…

Well, I hope you are all faring better than me, and I hope my beloved Ernie is still well.

If you think that I am the only person in the entire world that could go to America for a once in a lifetime trip, and break my ankle, and therefore am completely stupid, why not leave a comment, starting with the word ‘idiot’.

If you have a broken ankle, and think I should stop whining, why not leave a comment, starting with the word ‘wimp’.

Quote of the Week: ‘So which part of Australia are you from?’ asked Doctor Ed, who thought that I was an Oz, because I used the word ‘mate’.

Song of the Month: Jump In The Line. Harry Belafonte.