I have been learning a lot about what it is to blog. Simply by clicking on the next blog button you're sent into another world of people's stories and hardships. Admittedly, most of them have an incredibly pretentious title- but they're usually worth a read!
I don't think that style of thing is for me, I'm more of a sit down and space out kind of person. Maybe draw some awful pictures, generally anything that someone who isn't under the impression that they're the only person in the world with an opinion that matters can do.
In the words of Caspa, everybody's talking and noone's listening.
Not that I'll ever quote Caspa again IN MY LIFE EVER, without being at all dramatic.
SO, away from that dark beginning- life is good!
Girlfriendcat is coming to visit in less than a weeks time- I'm likely to become more excited as time passes.
Either way let's hit this Saturday night off with a story.
So this is the story of the last time I walked a considerable distance.
Long ago, I was foolish enough to believe that I could be clever and do stuff. However, this belief was shot down, along with any self confidence I may ever have owned, in my secondary school period. After battling through a couple years, eventually I made the terrible decision to join a club.
The club basically consisted of me alongside a selection of the finest, the fittest, the funniest and the fattest members of my school. The club's aim was to go out walking in teams, aiming to conquer the vast expanse of countryside surrounding us.
I'm not sure why, but I honestly thought this:
I was wrong.
We were set our task, we were to walk about 30 kilometres over a weekend. This would be done in groups- you would find the campsite together, make tents, make food and, most importantly, stick together. We went on a couple test runs, every time in the pouring rain with every single member of the group begging for mercy from the clouds. It was in these test runs that I learned the power of coffee and skittles sweets combined, the caffeine and e-numbers mixing together in a toxic blend of pure energy. I had to give up the blend after a short amount of time because I began seeing colours that do not exist, but that is a story for another day entirely.
The day came of the big walk, and it commenced without too much of an issue. We split into groups, said our goodbyes and set off in opposite directions. Blindly following the leader, who carried the sacred map, I began searching the bushes for wild life or, preferably, life from other planets. My small mind was in 5th gear, begging for excitement and mystery- hoping desperately that the black x on the map could be so much more than just a camp site.
It would take 6 hours of walking, battling through overgrown walkways, running from loose animals and attempting to escape from the adult figure who was assigned to keep us safe, therefore ruining the danger element and bursting the bubble of awesomeness that was our adventure.
These things may or may not have happened:
After a solid day of being a badass explorer, we found the campsite and set up the tents. We then proceeded to have a night of generally being children when they are away from their parents for a night, running around and deciding how many uses there are for a pot noodle.
You know how when you're doing something, and I mean actually proactively doing something, it can become boring and tedious suddenly? Overnight, a storm rolled in.
The second day was doomed to failure. Having no previous experience of the outdoors before, many of us failed to pack enough clothes for a change after the morning's rain. We also didn't bring enough food or water to feed us breakfast, or to give us any hope of finishing the day alive.
We were doomed to death on these rolling hills of hell, most likely in some sort of hideously ironic way, as I was unaware of the proper definition of irony.
We set off, not a single smile present. There wasn't even an immature chuckle as every animal within a mile of us decided to answer the call of nature at the same time. We were looking cold, hard misery in the face.
Desperation set upon the group after a couple of very slow hours, and anyone caught with food would have to fight hard to keep it in their grasp against the savages we had all become. At my lowest point, my energy-starved brain concocted a plan so devilishly clever that I could not believe anyone else hadn't thought of it. I stopped walking suddenly, causing another traveller to walk into me causing a wonderful domino effect, and reached into my bag. Out of it, I pulled a sachet of soup powder. I ripped it open, and before the adult could intervene I opened my mouth and dumped most of the sachets contents into it.
Within seconds I realised my mistake. My plan was to use to rain water to turn the soup powder into a hideous flavoured source of nourishment, but to do so would only warrant a tiny bit at a time. I had just poured the whole serving into my mouth, and it was currently drawing up every single iota of hydration in my already dry throat. I couldn't breathe, I fell to the floor in dramatic style and coughed up the whole packet. I then remained on the floor for a small while, having given up any hope of finishing that walk and finally admitted defeat.
A few hours later, after the adult figure had revealed to us his stash of water bottles that he had been carrying in his bag all day because he was a hero, we saw the finish line. One road is all that separated us from success.
At this point of the tale, I must ask a question. Am I the only one who, as a child, found it obscenely hard to measure distances? In fact, I still find it hard to this day, but this point aside this road was huge. And I mean like, bigger than ANYTHING MAN HAS EVER CREATED. Which I just realised doesn't make sense.
Step after step I made a promise to myself. From that day on, I will never walk again. I shall leave the club, and I shall create a robot to walk for me. I'll become king and ban walking, and most of all I'll never, ever comment on how nice hills look. Hills are evil.
Although this was forgotten instantly as we arrived at the final destination and we were given free ice cream.
Moral of the story is, ice cream is excellent for repressing memories.
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