A break in Wales
First year of secondary school, we all got a week in an outdoor centre in Govilon in Wales.

The usual twaddle - more girls than boys, so the boys got the smaller girls' dormitory with a tampon disposal machine which was filled with toilet paper and set on fire.

At one point a load of us had to push a minibus that had stalled. Apparently I was the only one who tried, and it rolled forward, pinned my arm between the bus and a stone wall and broke it (my arm - the wall was fine).

Despite having a PE teacher and a biology teacher present, both watching whilst the head dinner lady ('Evil Edna' - lovely lady) cut up my beans on toast for me right in front of them on their table, they insisted it was a sprain and I didn't need an X-ray.

One girl who threw up got sent straight home. I got dragged around in an overcrowded mini-bus, down mines and off swimming with a broken arm. Even a former-miner turned tour guide took me aside and told me I should tell my Mum and Dad to get it X-rayed when I got home.

Once I did get home I had to have my arm broken and re-set (and I opted for local anaesthetic, rather than stay overnight in the hospital). My Dad and a nurse had to hold me down as it hurt like hell.

A few of my mates filled the PE teacher's waterproof sleeping back with ice and water, which was a nice touch. He had already made them sleep in the corridor. I had taken some stick for having a Sooty hand puppet in my sleeping bag, but hell they were good guys.

Someone recently suggested our old PE teacher could come on our annual boxing day canoeing expedition. Yeah, I'm all for that...
( joefish It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:01, Reply)