CATCOUK returns!

Well hello there!

Just when you thought it was safe to get back into the water... err... I mean Internet. Oh, I ballsed that up. Never minid.

So, having not made a real post in three weeks (or is it four - well none in August any how), you'd think I'd have alot to say. And I suppose that alot of stuff has happenned. Well, going all the way back, the first stuff you missed out on, we our epic trip to Washington, D.C. I say our trip, as my friend Jordan kindly agreed to come with me, and that gave us a Jeep to use. And not just any Jeep, but a Jeep with a manual gearbox (thank the gods...).

After a 4 and a half hour drive (it wasn't me who drove most of the way), we eventually arrived near Washington. Now, being so close, I had to travel the extra 20 miles, and visit the big hangar, that's part of the (American) National Air and Space Museum. Jordan wanted to see the (American) National Gallery, so he jopped on a 'Metro' train (like a subway), whilst he lent me his Jeep. The hangar was amazing - I stood next to a Space Shuttle and everything (as a Star Trek fan, it was also pretty cool that the Space Shuttle they have is the Enterprise...)! It was cool. To boldly go...? The NASA prototype Space Shuttle - the Enterprise.

After a flying visit of the place, I jumped back into the Jeep, and headed for the Metro station. Although the US may have cheaper fuel, it doesn't last any longer. So naturally, the fuel light came on. And the needle dropped quickly afterwards. Bugger. So I pulled off of Route 66 (is that another tick in the book? - I've driven on Route 66), and found a 'gas station'. After several attempts, I was unable to make the pump work. So I stumbled into the shop like a buffoon to concede defeat.

As it turned out, I had to pre-pay. So I did, and returned to fill the car. I lifted the nozzle, and again nothing happened. I looked at the screen for instructions - 'Lift flap to select fuel'. Oh dear. I spent the next 5 minutes looking for the mythical flap of which it spoke, only to be left (ha ha ha) confused once more. So for the second time, I moped into see the lady cashier to fly my white flag. Just so that you know (put this in the US survival book), the flap was the cradle that the pump nozzle sat in.
Eventually I arrived in the center of D.C. And it was fantastic! Washington was so clean. I think the good weather helped. My first glimpse of the place, was from an escalator, ascending to street level. And it was outside in the open! Not like our Tube escalators that are all inside. It just felt cool. I made my way straight to the other Air and Space museum on the (American) 'National Mall'. What's with all the Air and Space stuff I hear you cry. Well, I'll confess, that visiting the place has been a life time dream for me. It's one small step for man, one pain in the arse photo for me!

And one of the reasons for that life long dream, is that the original model Enterprise from Star Trek is supposed to be there. So I wandered around the museum, saw a moon lander (which was cool) stood next to a model aircraft carrier (and yes, that remarkably too, was the Enterprise), and saw lots of other cool stuff. By the way, all of these photographs were a pain. Jordan was at the gallery, so I had to take all of them myself. But after 90 minutes, no sign of the Enterprise (the Star Trek thing, not the aircraft carrier). Dejected, I went into the gift store to look for suprise suprise - gifts.

Okay, so I admit to being a cheapskate at this point (but I was working voluntarily for three months). I noticed the gift store had a bargin basement - that's right, a clearance section. So down I went, sifted throught the clearance items (to no avail by the way), and what should I find at the back of this basement? The original USS Enterprise. Sign of the times I suppose, the most iconic model in the history of Star Trek, is at the very back of the bargin basement, in the gift shop of the Air and Space museum. Marvellous. All I ask is a Tall Ship, and a cheap gift to steer her buy...

After the museum, I went to the Capitol building (thing big white domed US building) to meet up with Jordan. From there we went around the US capital city, and 'saw the sights' (or as I put in my staff time off request - 'General Tourist Behaviour'). The whitehouse is alot smaller than you would think by the way. After a fantastic evening, we made our way back to the car, and onwards to Pennsylvannia. I asked if I could drive the longer leg back through the state of Delaware, and Jordan agreed. So, we swapped over in a service station in Maryland, and on I drove.

As I side note, I have now driven in four US states: New Jersey, Pennsylvannia, Delaware, and Virginia (that's where the Space Shuttle was).

Coming to the end of our I-95 leg in PA (the US's answer to the M1), and it is 1230 midnight. I'm cruising along at usual motorway speeds, and a little bit tired. I'm okay to drive, but I'm almost on automatic pilot. You have to realise that US Speed limits are alot lower that in the UK, and I was doing 70ish. The speed limit was 55. I look in my rear view mirror, and I notice a set of headlights. A set of headlights that look suspisiously like they belong to a 'Crown Victoria' (the standard US police car). Bugger. After changing lanes, and the lights staying glued to my backside, some red and blue ones go off.

The question is - did I run, and make it into America's scariest police chases? Did I stop and get arrested, thus spending a night in jail with a 400lbs sweating bank robber? Did I get deported? Who knows. You'll have to wait until next week's thrilling installment to find out...

If you hate it when I write two part posts, why not leave a comment saying that you could have read more before you fell asleep with boredom.

If you have already fallen asleep, why not leave a comment when you wake up, saying how long you were asleep for.

Quote of the... er... Month?: 'How do you plead' asked the magistrate of me. Honestly, I had to attend a Court hearing and plead. Woops.

Where is CATCOUK?

The general public are now beginning to worry about the welfare of CATCOUK writer, Andy Clarke. Nothing has been heard from the 21 year old from Lancing in several weeks now, via his multi-award losing blog. Suspisions have now been raised as to whether the intrepid young man did indeed make it back from his recent 11 week trip to the United States.

Suspisions were raised after a regular reader of CATCOUK trawled back through past posts of this year's 'American Adventure', and found that Andy hadn't been injured once. A full investigation has now been launched, and international authorities remain hopeful. Rest assured, whatever the fate of CATCOUK, or Andy Clarke, you will hear about it her first.

Goodnight, and good luck!

If you have any information as to the whereabouts of CATCOUK, and would like to see that this blog remains silent, you can leave a comment below, and we'll get him.

If you have any information as to the whereabouts of CATCOUK, and would like to see the posts continue, you can leave a comment below.

If you don't have any

I think that we all knew this was enevitable

So, I went straight from a busy week filled with 54 Scouts, to a busy week filled with shutting down and closing camp. It's all very sad. I have packed away the Corpulent Porpoise for what might be my last time. Many of my freinds have left, or are leaving, and I have to realise that this may be the last time that I see them.

Having said that, Bill, the boss, has now asked me several times to return next year. And I have to give him credit. My mind has gone from knowing that this would be my last year, to 'How can I make this happen again next year?' And changing my mind is like trying to steer a train...

Anyways, as busy as I am, I haven't really the time to entertain you, so you'll need to entertain yourselves. Either of the links below are barrels of fun, and will keep the average reader of this blog entertained for hours...

http://www.instantrimshot.com/

http://www.sadtrombone.com/

Have fun. See you all next week, when I'll be posting live from the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland! Rule Britainia...

Y'all came through, shame I haven't!

I know, I know, you've left some comments, but writing this dribble takes time. I really am trying to find a spare hour somewhere, but looking after 54 Scouts is way more busy than it sounds. Especially when you don't recognise any of them. It's even more difficult being a British bloke amongst this rabble. Take this evening's 'Tether Ball Battle Royale'. Ever heard of tether ball? Nope, me neither, but I played. Played and lost every game - but I looked glamorous doing it. What was it my sailing instructor said - the elephant is a graceful bird...

Then there was the irony of me telling off American Scouts for messing around at a flag ceremony - when it's the damned American flag! Hello, I can stand still for two minutes, and it's not even my flag!!! Well, I managed to find a few minutes here to scribble something. But I'm afraid, as amazing a Scoutmaster as I maybe (even the boss almost complimented me today) I still have to sleep (and be up in time to wake people up for early morning swim - yippee!). So on that note, I will bid thee goodnight, and pleasant dreams (and as I tell the Scouts, don't let the bed monster get ya!)

Where's the post?

Well, no-one has left any comments in the last two weeks (although someone did last week on FaceBook - thanks Charlotte). Until this is rectified, I won't be posting anything. And it has absolutly nothing to do with the fact that I am the Scoutmaster of Ockanickon Troop 1, with 54 boys, and exceptionally busy chasing around after the kids to do stuff.

On a side note, and because it is so cool, I went to Washington DC this weekend which was amazing. I stood next to a Space Shuttle! (it was the Enterprise too...)

Week Eight: 'Home' once more...

G'day mates!

Why Australian I hear you ask? Well, the number of people thinking that I am from the land of Oz is increasing. Which is odd really, as some Americans think that I might be Australian, others are almost offended by the thought - 'No way! You're definately British!' Facinating.

But that's not all. I like to wear my Nautical Training Corps (NTC) uniform to 'retreat' ceremony (when they lower their flag) every now and then. It makes experience for the Scouts, whilst allowing me to represent the Nautical Training Corps (it's also nice to be different sometimes). Unfortunately, some people don't quite realise what my uniform is.

Obviously, the NTC is so unwell known in the UK, that no American is going to guess correctly. Most go straight for me being a 'Sea Scout', which is about as close to correct as they can be. Some ask if I am in the Royal Navy, which again, is fairly reasonable. Last year, my rank was signified by a big gold button with an anchor written on it. This year, thanks to my ludicrous promotion, I have three thick gold stripes. With my officers cap, I have had several people ask if I am a pilot. Even if I was a pilot for British Airways! With the stripes I can kind of understand the confusion - but with all the anchors on my various badges? What pilots carry anchors? Bad ones, that's who. If 'm flying, I don't want to expect a water landing...

Just when you think the level of dumbness amongst our campers has reached an all time high, they go out and proove that people are always capable of being more dumb. One day this week, I told my sailing group that we would need another driver, as one of the parents wouldn't be available (the lake that we sail on is about 15 miles away form camp). One of the Scouts enthusiastically said he would get his Dad. I asked if he could take the other two Scouts from his troop too. I said 'Yes, absolutly'. Okay great. So I jump in the other leader's car, with the other three Scouts, and we drove the the car park and waited. And waited. And waited...

After about 20 minutes, the leader and I decided that we should probably go and see where the other leader and the three Scouts had gotten to. So we drive up to the back of the 'parking lot', and we find the rest of our group. It turned out that the other leader had a two-seater pick-up truck. Two seats for five people. So, the leader was standing at the side of the vehicle (looking a little confused) about to get in, and drive off. His son was sitting in the passenger seat. Where do you think the other two kids/ Scouts were? That's right - in the bed of the truck!

Obviously, we stopped that from happenning. But I should have seen it coming, when one of the Scouts had asked me previously, and unrelated, 'So, what's the law on riding in pick-up trucks in Pennsylvannia?'.

'Well' I replied, and to the best of my knowledge, 'as I understand it, it is legal to ride in the bed, so long as you are below the load level of the bed. Of course, I could be wrong.' How riding below the load level is any safer is anyone's guess. Only in America...

Finally, we get on to the topic involved in this week's title. This weekend, I travelled 'home' to New Jersey to see my friends (who are like a second family really). Dunellen, NJ is kind of my American home, and I just love the people there. I can't believe it has taken me so long to get up there and see them. Terry kindly lent me his car, so I went on a mini road trip to Dunellen, 70 miles away. As I am sure you all know, I dearly love driving. But driving automatics long distance is as dull as I have always thought it was. This was made even worse by America's ridiculously low speed limits.

I was driving at 55 mph along roads that in the UK would have a speed limit of 70 (which really means doing 80). Of course, if I had been driving my car, with the UK police to worry about, I would take the risk of pushing it just over the speed limit. But in someone else's car, with a foreign police force to worry about, I wasn't risking it. It felt like it took forever to get up to Dunellen.

But I arrived at Bill V's house just after 12. Fantastic. It was great to see Bill and his wife Stella again. I spent a few hours with them, and had lunch. By the way, Bill V cooks the best steak that I have ever had! Absolutly beautiful. After that, I moved onto Chris Q's house, and met up with him and his wife for dinner. In the evening some more people showed up, and we just sat on their back porch, in their words, BS'ing (BS stands for Bull and Something Else). I think I eventually got into bed around 1am. It was a late night, but it really was great to catch up with the Piano family, and the rest of the troop. And they always treat me so well. I really hope I'll be able to get up there and see them again.

Well that kind of wraps up my week. Except to say that my friend Bill V has given me a special ration of 'Pickled Balogne' for camp. It's like a giant uncooked frankfurter, but pickled. It looks pretty disgusting (I may even put a picture up later), but it tastes great. Thanks Bill.

If you think riding in the back of a pickup truck for 15 miles sounds like fun, why not leave a comment addressed to the organ donar program.

If you think that riding in the back of a pickup truck for 15 miles is a bad idea, why not leave a comment addressed to the camp's staff applications.

Quote of the Week: 'That's a tip from an old hunter, from when he used to go hunting coons' explained Bill V over a coke. I'd never heard a racoon called a coon before, so I naturally assumed that Kentucky must have some really racist hunting history...

Tune of the Month: Tea for the Tillerman. Chris Martin. (it's the closing theme to Extras)