I meant to set these up to auto post whilst I was at camp…and as usual, I forgot. Partly because the day I was going to do it, was the day I had my road trip companions arriving and I was still packing for camp whilst trying to rearrange my apartment to accommodate sleeping places for three people. It was done, although one of them was highly dubious about my ability to fit in the armchairs to sleep, and even after she saw me sleeping there, refused to believe I was actually comfortable.
The next few sets are poems I wrote about the activities we do at camp. In my last year as a camper, our Press Room assignment was to produce some material for the camp magazine. So I used the time to write a series of rhymes, which I’m going to share over the next couple of posts. Enjoy!
Rounders, footie, netball too,
So many different things to do.
Watch the pancakes slip you up,
Landing in a pile of muck!
We all went sailing,
Out on the lake.
‘Round and ’round in circles,
We’re not the next Drakes.
Capsized in drill,
Sent Lauren under.
Landed on her as I jumped,
So is it any wonder?
The wake from the gondolas.
Set us rocking madly.
Nearly tipped us overboard,
But not quite, gladly!
The sailing crew got us all back,
Safe, if not quite dry.
And though we might not sail the globe,
At least we’ve had a try.
Hillwalking (to the tune of ‘The Grand Old Duke of York)
Oh the grand young Mr Smith,
He took two dorms, some staff.
He marched them up to the top of a hill,
And he marched them down again.
They went up again and again,
Then back down a few more times.
And when they thought they’d never reach the crown,
They found they’d got to town.
The view from the top of The Old Man of Coniston – yesterday’s hillwalk