Sunday 13th August 1933
Awoke at 7a.m. Soon got out and around the camp. Dashed away to church at Sudbrooke. I went first, running through the dewy grass. Holy Communion. Took in 16 pints of milk today – including the Papworth rations. Chapter of accidents today. The Papworth Troop had most casualties, one boy having to visit the doctor with a mosquito bite. Camp inspection – again they cleared the ground well.
Took Captain and Matron out in a boat to the Witching Tree. Arrived there, we held on a bough to change seats. The boat gradually slid further under the branch; the oars were lost; the boat shipped water and teted so much that a rowlock fell out! The position (our positions rather!) became worse. Anyhow, I eventually found myself thigh-deep in water, while captain clung to the branch, slowly sinking down. Matron was trapped “twixt” bough and boat and seemed to be hanging on like a circus artiste. Managed to rescue them both, very wet and bruised. I felt awful and ashamed of my boatmanship but then dear Matron began to laugh. Captain joined in with less enthusiasm and so I felt better. Unable to find the rowlock – it is still there now –so we paddled back to the camp with the oars.
Later a swim with Peggy Wish. Dick fell and hurt himself. We have made him comfortable in my tent and he is fast asleep. I am writing this by the camp fire, so as not to disturb him. The Wolves gramophone is grinding out jazz through the night. Decent camp fire; we invited the Papworth Scouts. Rather a short one, which made it better still. Told “The Mother’s Jewels” – with a yell at the end. “They buried her under four gaunt poplar trees – like those!” Finished by singing a hymn around the fire. Gradually we dispersed; the singing spread, died away.
Took Captain and Matron out in a boat to the Witching Tree. Arrived there, we held on a bough to change seats. The boat gradually slid further under the branch; the oars were lost; the boat shipped water and teted so much that a rowlock fell out! The position (our positions rather!) became worse. Anyhow, I eventually found myself thigh-deep in water, while captain clung to the branch, slowly sinking down. Matron was trapped “twixt” bough and boat and seemed to be hanging on like a circus artiste. Managed to rescue them both, very wet and bruised. I felt awful and ashamed of my boatmanship but then dear Matron began to laugh. Captain joined in with less enthusiasm and so I felt better. Unable to find the rowlock – it is still there now –so we paddled back to the camp with the oars.
Later a swim with Peggy Wish. Dick fell and hurt himself. We have made him comfortable in my tent and he is fast asleep. I am writing this by the camp fire, so as not to disturb him. The Wolves gramophone is grinding out jazz through the night. Decent camp fire; we invited the Papworth Scouts. Rather a short one, which made it better still. Told “The Mother’s Jewels” – with a yell at the end. “They buried her under four gaunt poplar trees – like those!” Finished by singing a hymn around the fire. Gradually we dispersed; the singing spread, died away.
posted by Paul Wilson at 4:30 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home