Thursday 5th August 2010

Why on earth did those berks from the Father’s Union climb onto a roof, clad in batman outfits and heckle ‘let us see our kiddie winkles!’ I have been a single Dad for 3 days now and let me tell you, I am in no rush to scramble up to the top of my shack with my bikini over my clothes and declare my overwhelming love for my little’uns.

Emma, my co-counsellor and ‘Mum’ of the cabin- why I’ve been regarded as the Dad every session, I will never know- left on Tuesday due to being ill and needing some home comforts. I felt like gripping her ankles and saying ‘take me! I’m ill too! I’ve got extreme childphobiaitis!’ but alas, here I am with my squabble of girls.

One of the toughest things I’ve found is waking up. As the alarm goes off at 7:30am each evening, I now have the overbearing knowledge that if I don’t get up, no one does. Also, I fear my ‘wake up’ methods aren’t as PC as Emmas. A girl lay in bed yesterday refusing to move so I hoisted myself up and started bouncing on the bottom of her bed singing ‘Wake up it’s a beautiful morning’ in a delightful falsetto voice. Now this may sound like a jovial wake up call to you but I think it’s worth mentioning how crap these beds are, they’re like prison cots. I could hear the springs cursing me as I dug my feet into the fabric and tugged the bed sheet up with my toes. In fact, I almost started singing a song that my Mum used to sing to get me out of bed before I realised that this would be a sincere acclimation of becoming her- I’ve already found myself saying things that she used to say to me like:

Girl: She hit me with her fork!
“That’s nice.”

Girl: I’m boreeeeeeeeeeeeed
“Well do you know what else is boring? YOUR WHINGING.”

and that old nugget: “If you haven’t got anything nice to say, don’t say it at all!”

I haven’t quite made it onto pretending I don’t know the kids and asking if they’ve lost their parents which Mrs. Dick used to do to my youngest sister in Tesco all the time. However, I still have session four to go and this blog needs some spice.

Nevertheless, as I bounced up and down on the bed, the girl suddenly flung herself from her blankets and did two military style rolls across the floor. ‘Amazing!’ I first thought ‘What a career in stunts this girl has!’ until I saw her face scowling at me from the lower rungs of the next bed. ‘Look what you made me do’ she grumpily asserted which made me laugh even more. This girl, each and every morning, hurls herself from her bed and commits someone to the dastardly deed. I put my hands up in a solemn salute and yelped ‘twas not me Sir but by gum, what splendid rolling that was if I ever did see it’. She cracked a smile and I thought ‘phew. Charges diverted. Good word Sergeant Little Dick’.

However, despite all my hardships I’ve had a right old laugh as well. At the closing camp fire this evening I decided to treat the audience to a bit of old Blighty and after watching my co-counsellors give out certificates, I strutted up to the front with my scarf draped across my shoulders and knighted every single one of my girls with a twig and a red paper crown. Though at first a few were embarrassed due to their boyfriends sat in the pews (which is ridiculous, all boys love princesses. Disney taught us all that from a young age) by the time we went for our celebratory Papa John's pizza they al had them perching on their heads at jaunty angles. I was properly proud.

Tomorrow I am off to Emma's house again but this time with Anthony, Rickey and Udi in lieu. I am massively looking forward having some time to chill out and not spend money before waddling back for my LAST SESSION OF CAMP! Time flies when you're eating pies, eh?