You meet some strange characters on a Brownie camp. Ms Fab and I ate our Saturday packed lunch outside with the girls, as they were better company than most of the bossy women. Two Brownies (not from our little bunch) came and joined us, and one of them spent a good half hour explaining the plot of every single episode of Charmed. This was, we were informed, a programme about three teenage witches. They were sisters, but didn't know they were sisters, and one died, but didn't come back to life because you only do that if you're into dark magic. We learnt an awful lot from this young Brownie - mostly that she watched far too much television.
When she had finished talking about Charmed, she started on My Little Pony. When The Daughter was very young, she had a couple of these funny-smelling, pastel-coloured horrors. They had long, nylon manes, which got tangled and caught on buttons, and I think they were some of the first toys she put in our yard sale. It seems these things now have their own television series. Again, we were told about it in great detail. 'Cutie Marks', which are kinds of tattoos on the ponies' bottoms, denote the jobs the animals do. Some make clothes, apparently, which is a bit of a puzzler as they don't have fingers to hold needles and don't actually wear clothes. Never mind. We had to concentrate, in case we got asked questions at the end. They were nice girls, but it was quite a relief when they finished their lunches and ran off to play.
After lunch, we helped put tables and chairs away in the hall. That was when we saw a sign that said, 'Chairs are not to be stacked no more than 10 high.' Someone had typed that out, laminated it and stuck it on a cupboard door. And nobody had questioned it, or ripped it into tiny little pieces whilst calling the sign-writer an embarrassing idiot. As we read various notices on pin-boards, Ms Fab and I wished we had brought some red pens with us. We mentally underlined information on the 'forth activity of the day'. We added imaginary commas to a rambling paragraph on the need for everyone to help tidy-up. We managed not to call the woman at the decorating cake's table a moron. And then we realised that we really should have left our school selves at home as we were getting more than a little wound up by it all.
When she had finished talking about Charmed, she started on My Little Pony. When The Daughter was very young, she had a couple of these funny-smelling, pastel-coloured horrors. They had long, nylon manes, which got tangled and caught on buttons, and I think they were some of the first toys she put in our yard sale. It seems these things now have their own television series. Again, we were told about it in great detail. 'Cutie Marks', which are kinds of tattoos on the ponies' bottoms, denote the jobs the animals do. Some make clothes, apparently, which is a bit of a puzzler as they don't have fingers to hold needles and don't actually wear clothes. Never mind. We had to concentrate, in case we got asked questions at the end. They were nice girls, but it was quite a relief when they finished their lunches and ran off to play.
After lunch, we helped put tables and chairs away in the hall. That was when we saw a sign that said, 'Chairs are not to be stacked no more than 10 high.' Someone had typed that out, laminated it and stuck it on a cupboard door. And nobody had questioned it, or ripped it into tiny little pieces whilst calling the sign-writer an embarrassing idiot. As we read various notices on pin-boards, Ms Fab and I wished we had brought some red pens with us. We mentally underlined information on the 'forth activity of the day'. We added imaginary commas to a rambling paragraph on the need for everyone to help tidy-up. We managed not to call the woman at the decorating cake's table a moron. And then we realised that we really should have left our school selves at home as we were getting more than a little wound up by it all.
As I mentioned yesterday, our local Cub Scouts were camping close to us. When I got home, it was mentioned on the local news that Bear Grylls, being Chief Scout, had paid a surprise visit to another camp in the area. I bet our Cubs were totally miffed about that. They didn't mention it to me, though. I must remind them about it tomorrow. They didn't actually say much about their 'proper' camping. Our Brownies were bouncing about and telling everyone about their weekend, but the Cubs stayed pretty quiet. If they hadn't spent all Friday boasting about how much better they were than us, I might have felt sorry for them. But I didn't.
Not that I would ever admit it to them, but Scouts do seem to have a much more exciting time than Brownies. Take their Chief Scout, for example. I think we have a tiny twig from the Royal family tree for our Chief. I bet she didn't climb Everest or join the SAS. Scouts go canoeing and do archery and interesting things without miles of red tape and risk assessments. Why can't we do that?
On the other hand, I am glad I didn't spend the weekend under canvas. And khaki shorts are so 1980s, darling.
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