One frightful night of chill and bluster...
When me and some chums were 16 we packed out rucksacks and ventured off to the peak district to do our Chief Scout Challenge. It involved walking a helluva long way with everything we needed for three days on our backs and laughing at funny looking D of E kids who didn’t know how to hold a map or take a slash in the woods.

On the second night we were a bit behind schedule so found a farm house and asked the farmer’s wife if we could camp in their field for the princely sum of a crisp tenner. Transaction agreed we erected (heh heh) our tents, cooked dinner and looked at some porn purchased from a garage that we’d passed en route.

Night came and we settled down in our tents freezing our nipples off and looking forward to waking up to find the previous day’s sweat frozen in our walking boots. But then we started hearing rustling from outside... footsteps thinks we. And we can feel something tugging on our tent strings (guys for those in the know). Our 16 year old Daily Mail warped minds fear the worst. We expect a buggering at best and get really shitted up. So my two far more intrepid comrades decide to run to the farmhouse to get help because someone’s snooping around their field scaring boys in tents leaving me to fear the worst and be genuinely close to filling my sleeping bag with fear-wee.

So my good buddies present themselves dressed only in walking boots and their tighty whitys to the farmer’s wife shaking like shitting dogs. In a gale. At 2am. Farmer wakes up and brings shotgun, looks around field and tells us it’s the wind and to go back to bed.

Didn’t sleep a wink that night... but in hindsight we’re pretty sure it was just the wind.

Length? It was freezing I tell you.
(Div My world's on fire... how 'bout yours?, Tue 27 Feb 2007, 16:12, Reply)