The idea of Jamboree D weekend is simple, we go to Gilwell in Essex to collect the items of gear we have ordered from the UK Contingent and recieve a briefing on whats happening, what we need to bring, etc. So after work on Friday myself and Fitz picked up Pete and Laura and headed down the motorway towards London. Both myself and Fitz seemed content to sing to almost any tune on the radio, Laura and Pete spent the trip trying to pretend we didn’t exist. Oh yeh and it rained, and then some.
Once we got to Gilwell, we checked in put up our tents and I realised that the one thing I forgot (My Boots) would have been handy as my feet where soaked. Feeling that a quick Swedish Pear Tea might sort the problem out I promptly cracked one open, finished it and corralled the rest towards the bar which was just about to call time. The advice from the guys behind the bar was fairly straightforward; best get two in lads. I exchanged some golden beer tokens for two of the worst pints of John Smiths in the world ever and trudged to a table. Eventually we got chucked out and I wandered back to the tent to restock myself with some Swedish Pear Tea.
While standing around outside the tents a couple of lasses from a network in Essex came over and told us we should really be a bit more friendly and go and mooch with the now expanding group of people who like us had just been chucked out of the bar. So we did, discovering that myself and Fitz where quite possibly the oldest people there. Fitz headed back to his tent after a while, I decided to hang around a bit and spent some time talking to a chick who spoke more French than I do English. Eventually we headed over to the edge of the campsite which has an awesome view of London at night. I spent some time talking to some Scots which made me feel the need for a wee dram.
I gave up some time around 3.00am and staggered back to my tent.