Monday 28th June 2010

I’m swaddled in mosquito netting. The 14 bites on one leg are enough to vouch that I am a tasty human being. My blood must be to them like ketchup is to kids.

The kids.

Day one of camp is over, it’s 10:26pm and I am absolutely bloody knackered. It has been none stop ‘what are we doing next’, ‘I’m bored’, ‘I’m hungry’ and ‘I feel sick’. I’ve lugged bags into cabins, spooned food onto plates, pretended to be a grandpa shark, been imitated by about 12 girls at once and high-fived until my hands were sore but you know what? I’ve bloody loved it.

The day started early it wasn’t long until I was ‘chirpy Chelsea’, welcoming in the girls of Monroe to their humble abode. Emma and I got the older girls which I thought was a godsend until I realised today that they are so much harder to motivate- if one wants to sit out, they’ll all want to sit out. There were so many times today when I was prancing about singing ‘Peel banana, peel peel banana’ and I looked about to see my table slumped all over the place. In fact, there were several times where I thought ‘where the bloody hell are you getting this energy from Chelsea, you mad cow. You’ve had 5 hours sleep; no PG tips and you’re punching the air like you’re Rambo on acid’.

PG TIPS.

Karen has put aside some PG tips for me tomorrow and a big mug because she knows I’m hampering for it. I think I love her.

I’m being called by the sweet enticement of sleep but before I indulge in my netty boudoir, I shall summarise my 3 top moments today.

1. Kids say the funniest things

Things overheard today include ‘break it down girlfriend’ (said by small boy to older girl), ‘my armpits smell like relish’ (which unfortunately concluded in a girl shoving her armpit in my face and I can verify that they did indeed smell like relish) and in answer to ‘what should we not do at the campfire?’ I heard ‘punch the fire’. Yes, small children. Please refrain from punching the fire.

2. Chel rhymes with smell

This evening we had a ‘fun open fire’ at 7:20pm where every cabin had to get up and perform a skit. However, the fun did not end there as the counsellors were also asked to prepare a little summin’ summin’ to show to the campers. As I sat about my cabin this morning I started wailing ‘but I haaaaave no talentttttt’. However, my smart little campers said ‘Why don’t you hula hoop and we’ll make a poem up about you that you have to do at the same time?’ Ace.

So, 20 minutes of giggling in a corner later and they hand me a poem. Now, as I said, I’ve put my all into it today. I mean, I pretended to be a bloody kayote at one point for gods sake, and you know what the poem was about? Well, I’ll tell you how it started:

Hi there, my name is Chel

You may not know me well

But I’m about to tell

You how I really smell

I think you get the gist. So yes, this evening I got up in front of 60 campers and all my counsellors that I’d like to think I’ve earned the respect of and recited a poem including lines such as ‘when I was 2, I fell in poo’ and ‘when I was 13, I smelt like dead spleen’ whilst waggling my arse about in a dainty green hoop.

I’ve just posted a bulletin in the local newspaper here. It reads:

MISSING: CHELSEA DICKENSON’S SHAME.

3. Silence is golden

My last and most precious moment of the day would have to be right now. I just had the most beautiful shower (I was starting to fear that my poem was verging on the truth a little too much for my liking) and the girls are just starting to make those snoozing sounds that mean you’re in a deep slumber.

Oh sleep, glorious sleep. I nuzzle into thine bobbly blanket and I say to thee, let me not perish no more in your whimsical creeks and let me get some bloody shuteye, you massive precarious munter.

Friday 25th June 2010

I can’t even comprehend how slow the days seem to go by here. Was it really 16 hours ago that I slouched up to the flagpole, my hair awry and then bolted pancakes and hashbrowns down my throat? (So much for my healthy eating camp resolution, eh?)

The highlights of today includeOOOH I didn’t tell you about the highlights of yesterday! Whilst standing in the dining hall as nattering about the end of the world rolled around the cabin a freak storm attacked and out of the window we just saw this sudden claw of green followed by a ruptured groan and a sudden shudder. Now, when I tell you a tree fell down, I don’t want you to imagine that little sycamore that you pass on your way to the bus stop. I don’t even want you to imagine that chesnut that you went and collected conkers from as a little kid. I want you to imagine a huge, sprawling pine tree, 100ft tall that suddenly split and plummeted to the ground. What’s worse is that the assistant camp directors caravan stood shivering in the wake and… where was Karen? After asking about we found that Karen had just gone to get her washing in. Karen’s washing was outside her caravan. Oh my jesus.

People ran outside, rain stapling into their bare limbs and then they saw the green chaos writhing on the ground. Forunately Karen, zipped up in a black raincoat emerged from the scene unclawed but obviously shaken. The brushes had practically stroked her as he walked back in. Yikes and yow.

I’ve never seen something that scary happen in front of my eyes. I literally thought that my peers conversation was coming true and the world was ending. I always romanticised about my life ending in some heroic way, not lolling about in sweaty sports shorts and clutching a water bottle to my chest.

As for today, we did the most stereotypical thing and had a campfire. We toasted marshmallows, we had the guitar out and we spoke about what we were thankful for. I swear, by the time I leave this place I’m actually going to be all about ‘talking about my feelings’. Here’s a hoping. Not.

I really should publish these or I’m going to have a ridiculous amount that come at once. However, I’m still struggling to find a name for my blog. My Atlanta one is: getmesomegrits.blogspot.com which was a moment of genius on my behalf, but Middletown NY in a field? Is that really catchy enough?

Well my chums, I shall sleep on it. I’m sat in my bed and feeling the chilly night creep in. Time to get under the blankets I think and catch a few z’s for it’s an early morning tomorrow! I can’t believe I’m now a 7am woman. I hope this for continues for those who rise early… sleep early?! Damn bloody proverbial power. I’m going to bed.

ZZZZZZZ

Thursday 24th June 2010

So, I am officially here and have been for five whole days. The rest of my journey up included dunkin donuts, being stalked by a priest with a dislike for lesbianity within the church (so close to telling him I was off to meet my girlfriend in Middletown) and letting a twelve year old hoist my overly packed suitcase into a man’s car that I have corresponded with twice.

I must admit, the first few days, I was not impressed. There I was cooped up in a wooden cabin on my billytod as the sticky nights rolled in. You may have gathered, my friends, that I’m not the feistiest of people when it comes to creepy situations and after three days my red eyes from sleep deprivation were finally noticed by Karen the Assistant Director and I was shown a similarly creepy cabin- but at least this one had proper walls.

Now my fellow counsellors are here and I’m sat propped up in my once ominous residence surrounded by colourful blankets and bulging suitcases. We had our first day of training today and at last, hurrah! I am enjoying myself! The day was riddled with team building activities that had us going ‘gee whizz, what a great group this is!’ and motivation for when the kids trundle in on Monday. As well as getting to know one another better, we were also introduced to a fine array of ‘camp songs’. All I can say is that I got a little bit too into them and may have slightly pulled a limb somewhere. However, I feel that my greatest contribution to the day was when a group of us were all propped up under the roof of the jungle gym (oooh, how I revel to use these American words in my staunch British context!) and I taught them quite possibly the best game ever, fresh out of girl guide camp:

‘Down in the jungle where nobody goes, there’s a big fat gorilla picking his nose. He picks it and he flicks it, to see where it goes. Who’s gonna get that, who’s gonna get that, who’s gonna get that slimy snot’.

Well, they always did say the British bought class to every situation.

Saturday 19th June 2010

Yes. That’s right. I’m attempting another holiday blog. Last time I managed a stunning 3 whole days but, in my defence, they were like bloody novels and I actually feel sorry for the poor sods who read them. If one of them was in fact you, you may sense a slight difference in my style of writing. Last time, I’d been reading The Time Travellers Wife (and I’ll be honest, it’s still in my bag, unfinished, waiting for some foreign accommodation for me to whip it out again) and I got swept away in it’s flourished narrative. I do like that though, when something inspires (Christ, did I actually just write that I’ve been inspired? Steady on Dickenson, you don’t won’t to lose them in the first paragraph) but yes, inspires you to write differently. But less about that and more about right now since I promise to make these entries a little more snappy.

I am currently on my second flight of the day from Amsterdam to Newark. I love how I had to fly somewhere an hour and a half away to fly back on myself- thanks airlines- you are just too logical. I’ve just been watching ‘Dear John’ which also airlines, is not very logical either. Sobbing into the Polish man to my lefts shoulder is not how I envisaged starting off my summer adventure. I am one of those people who hate hate hates crying in public but when it comes to films, I’m an emotional terror. I remember having to stay behind until all the credits had ran out in a film (actually, it was The Time Travellers Wife. God. I’m bloody obsessed. I blame it on Eric Bana. What. A. Man) because I looked positively atrocious. Didn’t help that my mate just sat there laughing at me either. The last time I cried at a film was, and gosh, I shouldn’t probably even admit watching this, was ‘The Last Song’. Yes, I do mean the Miley Cyrus film. Faye and I decided to stroll along to the 11:40pm showing after a few drinks and after revelling in the empty cinema by decorating the stairs with cartwheels and star jumps, we slouched in our seats, weeping as misfortune after misfortune rolled in. After it finished we promised to never speak of it again and left ravaged with shame.

The screen above me tells me I’ve got 2 hours 40 left and that I’m passing over St. John’s. I was lucky enough to have a window seat for my Amsterdam flight and as we soared over the green palette of countryside below us, I genuinely could not grasp that those laces of road held cars that held people. I felt like I was peering down at a model city in a glass cabinet, not the idyllic Dutch countryside.

When I arrive in Newark, I’ll get the Airtran to Penn Station and then onto Middletown. Udi sent me a whole list of instructions but it’s likely that I’ll get very lost, get on the wrong train and end up on the Upper East Side in Chuck Bass’s boudoir. Oh, a girl can dream, can’t she?!