By: Blonde Two
Tonight the Two Blondes have a double booking. We are going out disguised in girl clothes, as our real selves for the evening. There will be speeches, wine (I hope there will be wine), applause, pride, press photos and not a single puddle (unless I spill my wine).
The rest of our team will be having a completely different kind of fun and will be wild camping on chilly Dartmoor. They too may have speeches, photos, applause, pride and wine (unlikely) but they are almost certainly going to be in puddles.
The Two Blondes had considered a heroic dash to the moors at midnight to keep the boys company and check for frozen toes but sense prevailed and we will be joining them on Saturday morning. It seems a shame to miss our first camp of the season (we have strange seasons down here in Devon) but we are going to be having a proud night celebrating the achievements of some of our young people (hankies at the ready, mind the mascara), not to mention a good night’s sleep in a warm bed.
Your absence has been noted, and we hope that the buffet with the county’s great and the good wasn’t too much of a hardship. You did miss a beautiful night though – cold, yes, but with the moors and tors clearly defined by by a strong, bright moon.
There is a nice symmetry to your evening and ours. You were celebrating the achievements and efforts of a group of young people at the end of months, even years of endeavour. With us on the hills were another group who were beginning much the same journey, preparing for a series of expeditions and challenge events that are as much about character as physical fitness. By the end of the following evening they had tested both their stamina and humour to limits, but were still smiling. I would like to think that they had, perhaps, grown a little too.
Very well put Mr Woolly. I echo your sentiments and hope that the tepid bacon sandwich delivery service helped to make up for missing Blondes on Friday night.
I never had you down as such a sentimentalist Mr Woolly!
Had an Etre et Avoir/ Dead Poets Society/ Mr Chips moment.
Going back to work without decent bacon sandwiches soon knocks it out of you.