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.

Best care anywhere

Having had a week off thanks to Michael last week, I have plenty of E-mail material. This being the case, I planned to tell you this week about my trip to ‘The Reasonably Sized Apple’ also known as New York, and all about the Boy Scout Camp that I work at – Ockanickon (I spelt that off of my name badge by the way, I would probably have spelt it with a V and 2 T’s).

However, something else pretty big has come up this week, so I will try and cram it all in, and we’ll see where we can get.

Last Saturday my sponsor ‘dad’ Bill took me to see New York. I must say that it is an incredible city. The buildings are so large, almost to the point of being unbelievable, and bizarrely, the Statue of Liberty was shorter than I had expected. Obviously, NYC is nowhere near as spectacular as the sunny shores of Sussex, but there you are.

Me and my friend Bill Vincent on the Stattan islan Ferry, with Manhatten in the background.

A big point of interest was ground zero, the site of the former buildings that made up much of the World Trade Centre, and The Twin Towers. There are still burn marks on some of the surrounding buildings, and the site is still being cleared nearly 6 years after the disaster. It really is a site to see. Especially when you imagine the towering structures that had been there previously.

A gaping hole in the middle of New York City: Ground Zero.

Whilst in New York, we had Chinese. But not just any Chinese. This was the best sample of Chinese cuisine that I have ever tried. Just unbelievably good. On the subway trip home, I was surprised that the New York State Transport Department had made an significant extension to their subway system. I’m sure everyone around me thought I was made when I took this photo.A major extension has been added to the New York Subway, you can now get all the way bto Brighton.

But onto the main event. The whole reason for me coming to America: Ockanickon Scout Reservation. I had several pre-conceptions of what the campsite might be like (as I had with the whole of the US in fact). I had expected the campsite to feel alien to me, and for everything to be a bit strange. And although some aspects of the sight are odd, bizarrely, the place kind of feels like home.

The thing that I still can’t get my head around is the equipment the scout camp uses. Although I know that the gear itself is not that old, the design dates back to WWI. In fact, some of the beds in the lodges are WWII surplus! Either way, sleeping in their big heavy canvass tent felt like being in an episode of M*A*S*H*. This is an observation that will come back and bite me on the ass.

At the campsite, I have two main jobs: Assistant Sailing Director (although the director is severely under qualified, I’ve had to bail him out several times this week. I may use them next week), and I am also on the Rock Climbing staff. Because of the laws of magic, the lake that we sail on only gets wind in the afternoons during the summer, so I go to the climbing department on the afternoons.The SS Corpulent Porpoise, the 22ft boat that I am chief of the boat of.

The SS Corpulent Porpoise as we have called her is a bit of a bath tub. Don’t get me wrong, she sails beautifully, I but these Boy Scouts have no idea how to look after nautical equipment. This boat has been abused and mistreated, and really needed some TLC when I arrived. We have had some great fun with her though.

I have two stories about the boat. Firstly, Thursday we were practicing man overboard drills. Back in the UK, I have always tied a Life Jacket (or PFD [Personal Floatation Device] as the crazy Yanks call them) to a bucket. So this we did. The first Scout goes to save ‘Bob’, and then runs straight over him (by accident), almost exactly in the middle, between the bucket and the Life Jacket.

This resulted in the whole man overboard dummy getting dragged underneath, and along the keel, to end up wrapped around the centre board. This further resulted in the boat being almost completely un-sailable. In short, you could sail down wind, but not up it. Of course the wind was coming from the marina over half a mile away. Most people would just switch a motor on at this point, but unfortunately the Corpulent Porpoise isn’t fitted with one. So the kids paddled the 22ft sloop the half mile back to the marina against the wind. They were tired after that, and sadly there weren’t enough paddles for the instructors to paddle…

Second amusing story happened Friday, after we had finished repairing the boat. We had loads of wind that morning, so we were screaming along the lake. As we were thundering along, we noticed a very attractive young lady in a rowing boat, wearing a green bikini. Please bear in mind that the BSA (Boy Scouts of America) don’t have girls in it, and so the majority of instructors tend to be blokes. I had, in fact, almost forgotten what a woman looked like.

So naturally all of the crew on the boat are male, and were gawping at her. I was standing at the back of the boat with the main sheet in my hands (that’s the rope that pulls the big sail in and out). She realised that 6 blokes were just staring at her, whilst they shot past on a yacht. She waived at us awkwardly, so naturally, being the only gentleman on board (and the only Briton, see the link…) I waved back.

Having looked really cool up until this point, I was a little shocked when I felt the main sheet (rope) get harder. No, there’s no innuendo there. I turned around to see my crewmates all letching, and slowly turning the boat. At the point, the wind caught the sail (as the boat was turning), and most people fell off their feet, and right across the boat. The helmsman lost all his senses, and performed a sharp turn, and for all intents and purposes, we were in chaos. How those sirens of the sea effect us guys.

Unfortunatly, because this is a Boy Scout of America site, I have to wear Boy Scout uniform, as does every other member of staff. Oh my goodness, I have never seen so many knobbly knees in all my life. I try to avoid wearing it, but I have to wear it at least every day, so that I can salute the American flag (the other days I can wear my NTC uniform). So, by popular demand, here is a picture of me as a boy scout. Please bare in mind, I only wore those socks as a joke. I usually wear normal socks. Woohoo. A Scout uniform, don't I look cool...

Lastly, I rope this long post back to the title for this week. As I said earlier on, the camping reminds me of the TV Show M*A*S*H*. Even the beds (or cots) that we sleep in. But as I said, that came back to bite me on the backside. This was our first week of activities (last week was all set up), and somehow, a virus was brought onto the site. Tests were done, and we know it was not food or the water supply. It’s basically a cruise ship virus (people being sick, and er… emptying the bowels). As I have sat here and wrote this, I know that the camp manager has had a meeting with the department of health, and they have taken samples.

But I digress. As yet, don’t worry mum, I’m okay. Tuesday night we evacuated the campsites, and stayed in buildings for a few hours whilst a thunder storm went through. Almost straight after that, loads of people went to the Health Officer. The campsite has an impressive ‘Health Lodge’ which is like a small medical centre. They even have a ward to sleep ill people in. That night several people were sent home, or in severe cases to hospital!

After Tuesday night, there were a few isolated cases, but we thought we had taken enough measures to stop it. Well we thought wrong. On Thursday night, I was Duty Officer (DO), and a second wave of sick people came through. In the midst of this, we had to evacuate a group that were wild camping for the night, because of another thunderstorm. Thursday night was far worse than Tuesday. We had so many sick people, that the Health Lodge was swamped. The emergency protocols were opened, which basically said, ‘ha ha, your on your own…’.

So thinking on their feet the staff set up 22 beds in a lodge close to the Health Lodge. But even that wasn’t enough. We had to cram ill people in there. At the moment, the current total of ill people (some have recovered, some are still in beds, some have gone home, and some are in hospital) stands at around 70 (including, Scouts, Adults and Staff). It’s an incredible site. I don’t know many places could do that. And now it really was like a scene from M*A*S*H*.

As I said, I was DO, so I helped out as much as I could. I couldn’t do anything on the medical front, but I did check in with troops, and keep the medical staff, and helpers fed and watered (with very strong coffee). I was up to 3am doing this.

The virus is spread through bodily fluids (mainly sweat), but also becomes airborne through vomit fumes. Well, I was around a lot of ill people last night, and the medical officer looked at me when I got back from sailing, and told me to go rest (hence how I got the time to write this). Well, in my usual fashion, sheer bloody mindedness will keep me well. I will not be ill.

Once again, I hope all is well in Blighty, and keep in touch.

If you have had some rain the week, why not leave a comment, starting your message with ‘I live in Britain’.

If you have not had some rain this week, why not leave a longer comment, be smarmy, starting with ‘I live in neither Britain, or Okanickon Scout Camp’.

Quote of the Week: ‘There are more ways to kill a dog than to choke it with butter’. Apparently, it is a Chinese proverb (we were looking for them on the ‘net to put in the camp newsletter), but if you can work out what it means, please tell me. Or if you can just work out why someone may wish to kill a dog, by choking it with butter, I would be fascinated.

Faster, Further, Higher, and for Longer (again)!

A great big HOWDIE from the good ol’ US of A. As you can read, I have successfully arrived in America. Thanks to Michael for taking care of business for me last week, whilst I jet setted across the pond to the yankies!

Well, first off the bat, I cannot write this week’s post without bigging up British Airways. At last, there is something British that we can all still be proud of. To be fair, I loathed flying with First Choice to Lanzarote. The seats were uncomfortable, the service was okay, and EVERYTHING cost more. If you wanted a seat that was inside the plane, that was an extra £20…

But BA… Wow! What a difference. The seats were comfortable, with enough space to avoid cramp. The service was excellent (even if they were mostly men), and they kept giving us food and water every hour. For FREE! Some people say Virgin Atlantic are the best, but really, British Airways is flying.

As a beautiful link, my flight landed on US soil a whole hour early (that’s the sort of service you can expect from BA… and no, I’m not on commission). This was a good thing. Well for me it was. I got to meet US border control (Department of Homeland Security) that much earlier, and then their customs. I really enjoyed he rubber glove part. Apparently they give out that service free to all English travellers…

Landing early did cause my mother some concern however. Because the plane landed early, the database on the internet displayed ‘information unavailable’ when mum went to check my flight landed okay. Naturally, mum assumed my plane crashed and burned somewhere over the North Atlantic… Well, they say mothers are like that (Hi Mum by the way…).

Over here is exactly as you expect. There is lots of food, and yes there are lots of… er… rounder people here. It comes to something when I think that a meal is too much for me! No really, at home they call me the dustbin. But everyone over here is really polite and friendly. Thanks to Chris Quinn and his wife Cindy who are responsible for my being here. Thanks also to Bill Vincent and his family who took care of me my first weekend. Neither of whom read this, but credit where credit is due…

Also, as you would expect, their cars are BIG. A usual engine for these guys is a 2 litre V6. What’s more, that is considered fairly economical! The yanks are gobsmacked when I tell them that my ’86 Ford Falcon Station Wagon (as it was known over here) gets 50 miles to the gallon. If a car does 22 miles to the gallon, it is considered fuel-efficient!!! Also, they pay slightly less for their fuel (30p a litre).

I would also like to point out that American cars are cool. They just don’t realise it. Bill’s son, Eddie, took me to a beach house party is his ’99 Ford Mustang. Alright, it isn’t the best Mustang made, but it’s still cool. But apparently it’s normal for a 22 year old to drive that sort of car!

But you don’t see many older cars out here. This is for two reasons. These American cars really are built badly. Compared with Dagenham designed and built Ernie, these things are toys. Also, most cars that I have seen that are 5 years old or so have got at least one large dent in them, where they have been involved in a collision. The people of the US just don’t take good care of their cars. (How is Ernie by the way? I really am missing him. I can’t even hire/borrow a car out here…)

Their houses and streets are amazing also. Well New Jersey is anyway (I haven’t seen much else of the states). The houses are all wooden designs, but look really sturdy (not just flat packs from Focus DIY…). Plus, the buildings are over 100 years old, and still standing. Suburb streets are interesting. They are not just tree lined, but tree infested. It looks great. Furthermore, you wouldn’t forget which country you are in. Nearly every house flies a star spangled banner.

Well that’s America. I suppose I should explain my title before I close. When I went to Lanzarote in January (it’s tough being an Adventure Ed student…) I broke several personal boundaries. I went further away from home that before (2500 miles), I went faster than before (450mph), I went higher (32 000 ft), and I went away from home for longer than before (2 weeks).

But I have now (or am in the process of doing) broken all those records once again. Further (5500 miles or so), Faster (590mph), Higher (40 000 ft), and for much, much, much longer (90 days/ 11 weeks/ 2.5 months). Heck, after I went through security a Heathrow, Mum said that she didn’t stop crying for 12 hours!!!

Well, I would like to say I’m missing all of you, but I can’t lie. As I will tell you next time, I am having an absolute blast out here, and we haven’t even started the fun stuff yet! Lots of love to all back home (especially Ernie… that just winds my Mum up, she thinks I love my car more than her. Well all the blokes out there will understand that…). I hope all is well in Blighty, and I am thinking of you. If you would like to E-mail me messages, you can do so below, and I will pick them up when I can. They will then appear as a comment (for all you users new to blogs!).

If you have a 21 year old car (happy birthday to Ernie for a few weeks ago btw), that can get 50 miles to the gallon, why not leave a comment starting your message with ‘I have stolen Ernie, and he is under ransom for [insert cost]…’.

If you are missing me, why not leave a comment starting your message with ‘I have a mental problem, therefore I am missing you…’.

Quote of the Week: [said in yank accent] ‘Is that near London?’ asked nearly every yank, after I told them I lived on the South Coast, near Brighton. It’s a little repetitive.

A Week In The Life Of.....

Hi guys,

Well, I promised Andy that I would keep the blog updated until he manages to get him self settled down with the kids and Dracula in Pensylvania.... or was it Transylvania?

I am slipping up already in that I have some how managed to dispose of my yesterdays blog so my apologies readers and, here we go! lol.

Well, this week obviously Andy jetted off to America and seeing as I haven't heard otherwise I can assume that he is alive and well on the other side of 'the pond'.

Completely unlike Andy, he is without Canoe/Kayak or Canayak and his beloved Ernie, which I may have to go and take a random picture of in true Andy style..... The evening before he left we decided that it could be a laugh to update you as to a week in my life...

----

I will be honest with you now, it has not been all that intresting, sorry! Like many students, I am currently revising for my exams, in fact my last one is tomorrow. I am a good-for-nothing (Dyspraxic and slightly dyslexic - in case you haven't guessed) Media Student at Sussex Uni and much like Andy work in retail to pay for all the little things...

So, this week has been full of really exciting revision.....'Socialising.... and much not revising... in honesty it has been more full of not revising then revising and alcamahol to boot. Either way I get bored rather easily it seems and, fed up with sitting indoors I have taken to taking my trusty car, (also a Ford, (incidentally Andy never USED to like fords :O) to either the beach or up Mill Hill, a local beauty spot (some say 'dogging spot'...allegedly) and well, hill that overlooks most of Shoreham, Lancing and Worthing.... Next time I am up there I will wave, so wave back...

Amazing Hovering Blanket

Shoreham Beach - Actually looks good! And since when was there sand?


I also have the pleasure of working at both B&Q and Comet in the glorious Teville gate and have to say I have not been knifed at either which is a pure miricle. What I do get however is my fair share of nutters. I work B&Q at 6am on a Wednesday morning. Wednesday is 'Diamond Discount Day' being that over 60's get a whole 10% off their shopping. Come 7am when the doors open we are awash with customers who wait to save 10p on a packet of screws and like to cue and complain about the wait...

This wednesday saw a whole host of customers who wanted to tell me about their children, their bunions, hardware stores of old, incontenance.... It's great. Really. 15 mins later you have to tear yourself away. This week, one of my senior and more grumpy colleagues came up with a great plan. This being wearing a label saying 'Sorry, not speaking the english' seems to work rather well, I may try it.

I also work for Comet Teville Gate... It's not really as bad as they say, but the incident book is always good for a laugh. highlights include paintball and smoke grenades, someone pushing a freezer off the roof and hitting a granny and more attempted suicides than you can shake a stick at (it's not tall enough, people just shatter their legs). It is also the grounds of special types of nutters. This week for example, a customer who came in to rant about a stuck key on his laptop, said he was from trading standards, handed over his phone number and instructed us not to call it as Des Lynam (i kid you not) doesn't like answering the phone.

When he returned a week later, he told us he was a police officer and gave us two new numbers which it would be okay for us to ring. When the manager asked whether Des would be okay with us ringing he replied 'Yes, it's okay he's gone now'. And started trying to stop people buying laptops.

Hmmm.

Oh retail, run by students abused by everybody.


A weeks blog would not be complete without a photo of a car in there somewhere, so outside Teville Gate Comet, on the right of the picture is 'The Lady' my "I know lets be poor for my entire student life" Ernie.

With any luck, normal service will resume next week with Andy back at the helm and you won't have to listen to my drivel. If you liked this post why not leave a comment? If you didn't, why not leave a comment? If you work in retail, again let me know! Leave a comment! (If you don't like me using so many brackets.... leave a comment)

And if you happen to think Des Lynam is living with you, For goodness sake PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT!

I leave you with this: Andrew Clarke, Dominic Wales and Michael Gates starring in: Yummy yummy yummy yum yum, don't take me from the resturant, an Ernie based musical. I can't sing for toffee.






Partario Basin. Out.


Still can't see Andrew

Breakfast In America

Well, I know Andrew hasn't even left yet, but if you, like me couldn't read the last post without thinking CHOOON! then this is for you. Appropriately named Breakfast in America, I am sure we all wish Andy the best as he "Take[s] A Jetplane Accross The Water"

All the best mate. Don't forget us all here in Blighty!

And for those of you of a GymClass Heroes pursuasion >>> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eiiU-Fky18s

Forgot to ad:

If you liked reading this mini blog, please leave a comment below, but more importantly...

DON'T FORGET TO CHECK OUT THIS WEEK'S POST BELOW...

So long, farewell

Well boys and girls, this could be it. After 14 months, 73 posts, and goodness only knows how many words (more than is sensible to read all at once anyway), this could be the end of CATCOUK. On Thursday of this week, I fly out to America for three months, only to return on the 22nd August.

It is my intention of course to keep writing the blog whilst I'm over the pond, but who knows whether I'll be back. We'll just have to wait and see.

As it turns out, this week's post is one full of goodbyes. This was the week that I said some last goodbyes to my friends at Uni. We are all off around the world to do our 'placement year' module, so we won't see each other now for another 16 months or there abouts.

Some of them may never be seen again! Not because anything ominous will happen to them, but because they will just never come back to Uni (can't face the work). XP, if you're reading this, you'd better get your ass back to Uni in September '08, or so help me! These people will of course get added to what I call, the list of the fallen. When we started our course, we had 34 students. I think we are now at 29... It's not like we're on a rocket science course is it?

To any and all of my friends at Uni that are reading this, I am sure going to miss you all. Take care, and keep yourselves save on placements, and stay in touch on FaceBook!

This was also the week that I said goodbye to most of the people at NTC (the Nautical Training Corps and TS Intrepid). We don't need to worry too much though. I'm taking my laptop with me, and providing I have the internet out there, I'll still be taking care of paperwork. I sure am committed... what a pillock.

For any of my NTC people out there reading, please don't do anything daft whilst I'm away. And for goodness sake, don't loose our 26 cadets... (well, you can loose a few of them if you like)

Lastly, and the reason why this post is late, I met up with my best friends Michael and Dominic last night. We met up (well Michael and I) at 7 o'clock, straight after a days kayaking with theb kids from NTC. And man was my back sore. Eventually Dominic rolled up around 7.30, and we were good to go. A few rounds at the Crown and Anchor first, and then we stocked up from the Co-op, and went and sat/ laid on the beach.

After suspecting that smugglers were signalling us, and seeing the frosty snowman face in the dark clouds (yeah, I was very tired, and they were both on the sauce), we decided to go cruising in Ernie. We went all over, Bramber Castle, Steyning Bowl, a very cold Splash Point, and lastly to Mill Hill, after being unable to a single Kebab and Burger joint. Not even Subway was open!

I eventually rolled in some time after 2 this morning, and my Kayak is still tied to my roofrack. And yes, I am absolutly nackered. Cheers guys. Have a great summer, and I'll see thee when we drive down to Southampton to annoy Dominic when I get back. Take care.

Lastly, I say a possible goodbye to all of you. Next week, Michael will be taking the helm (to let me get settled in the US), and after that, all being well, I should return. Before I go though, I want all of you to help me. Facing the possibility of this being the last ever CATCOUK, I want to get as many comments on this post as possible. Whether you have read this blog for months, or you're still new, leave a comment. Leave two comments. Even if you have nothing to say, say that you have nothing to say, and LEAVE A COMMENT. I think it's possible if we really try, we can get over 40 comments. So come on guys, help me out.

Well, hopefully, I'll see you all in two weeks. But if I don't, take care, and thanks for reading.

If you're a human being, why not leave a comment, telling me so.

If you're not a human being, why not leave a comment, telling me what you are.

Quote of the Week: 'Yummy Yummy Yummy Yummy Yum Yum. Please take me from, the restaurant' said the bizarre lyrics of some even more bizarre song late night, on BBC International Radio 1.

Song of the Month: Breakfast in America. Supertramp (1979). The Gym Class Heroes' (Cupid's Chokehold) mix is good, but you can't beat a bit of classical class...