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Well, well, well, so camp's over. After a few days last week of the greatest looking-forward-to-ness of feelings, camp has flown past us.

Journey: out
Initially, as all camp's start, at Friday lunch.

We boarded a large coach. a few members of the year (two of the editors Thomas Maxwell and Clement Chew included) choosing to sit separately in a small white van, and a few others more taking a large busty private car, to journey into the general direction of the East Coast Sommerset Resort.

The obligatory chatter filled the air of the bus for the first half hour, then it subsided as people got bored of talking to each other and drifted off into sleep.

Meanwhile, in the van, the two editors Clement and Thomas, were indulging in some close quarters baroque classical music through the rear end of the vehicle.


Minibus enjoyment - if you look closely you can see us in the bus up front

As our journey drew on, various punches were thrown and a slight mishap as the van suddenly levitated due to clement standing up and sitting down rather quickly. All problems aside the destination was reached in their little white bus relatively safely and bags.

Returning to the bus, some bright member of our year had the brilliant idea of watching the thought provoking visual feast that is Paparazzi, which basically involves:

• someguyfamousfordoingsomethingiforgot gets angry at photographer man for taking pics of his child playing football
• paparazzi man goes away and returns with other paparazzis (and bizarrely an Englishman as well), who then make it their life mission to indirectly kill the famous man
  
• the famous man returns the favour by making it his life mission to kill all of the paparazzi posse
  
• the famous man cunningly deceives grey haired detective, despite the detective discovering much valuable bleedingly obvious information evidence
• paparazzi lose cause they all get killed. famous man now a murderer of five people wins
  

Unfortunately, your editor was unable to fully enjoy the visual sensation that was the film, as the palpitating initial camera flashes at the start, and the short sequence in the middle with that screechingly high frequency noise being emitted from a security camera viewing monitor, coupled with the Bomba Stereo Bomba thundering audio, a large speaker conveniently placed directly over your correspondant's seat. This editor regrets very much.

We conclude that the bus journey wasn't that eventuful, and those of you that didn't go, didn't miss anything with regards, to the bus trip.

Arrival
So at around 5.30, we all arrived at the resort Somerset, colonial style columns galore.

After a short violent commotion involving Yi Xuan losing his bag, Chris and Julie called for order in the crowd gathered on the main steps (your impatient honest editors amongst the crowd), and we were given our room keys and ordered off into our small well kept white colonial rooms.

Unfortunately, this editor (plus Abdur, Taha and Mhd), upon entering their room (254), were immediately knocked out by a blast of stale air being produced from the room within.

The theory was then drawn up that this may be due to the fact that the room hadn't been used for an extremely long period of time, however, this editor was unable to continue further with the growing exciting discussion that was starting about this theory, as he was dragged out by a SimonNo. Various wheeling and deeling of where two peoples were rooming was then carried out, part of which can be found in Meng's account.

This all wasn't really important anyway, and I'm sure you're not to bothered to find out the outcome, so the time shall be fast forwarded a little; skipping the saga of large thick branches obtainal, the ensuing battle against an inanimate object that soon followed, the toxicity of the East Coast non-land area.

Dinner and food
We must say that the food at the Somerset Bay and Beach Colonial Resort was of the highest quality. All three editors, and the incredibly vast majority of our fellow year 13s, thoroughly enjoyed gorging upon the buffet food spread conveniently located in the dining area for us at dinner time 7.30pm and at all the other meal times we had during camp.

A Clement Chew was witnessed to indulge in five main courses, whereas your potentiallyfutureanorexic co-editors could only handle two main courses each, leaving space for a cup of tea and one sugar at the end, Clement Chew had three cups of coffee and one cup of tea at the end it must be said.

A Taste Sensation we must say. Although it mightn't have been the bestest elitemost of food that we've ever tasted, it certainly left us feeling quite full and satisfied after the respective meals, which must've been good. And was most definitely better than this poor as piss of an excuse for food:


soil

Camp food, even the cutlery tasted nice. Although a Stephanie Siow did experience a nauseaous experience.

Main day Saturday
It started off quite late for all of us, except for Yi Xuan Fariq and co, whom were eating breakfast way before anyone else.


unfortunately the wind had taken control over yixuan

One of the highlights of this camp for us (or rather, solely myself), was the brilliant gusting wind that blew in from the sea in the early mornings and late at night, enough wind to blow sand into your eyes, to lift your shirt swiftly off your back, and to transfer large portions of the beach into the swimming pool, but not enough to knock you back. Sort of like feeling one of Clement Chew's violent limb thrusts that always appear to just miss their target by fractions of a millimetre. Miracles, they are.

So, after an uneventful breakfast, which was a taste sensation. We were called into a small long meeting room with excessively oddly luxurious gold curtains. Here, Ellis explained various aspects of exam revision, the finer points of finding one's inner chakra through meditation, with the visual aid of technology through a dark blue powerpoint presentation.

Two of your honourable learned editors simultaneously engrossed themselves in the presentation, whilst constructing a pretty pathetic paper airplane each utilising the handily provided A4 white paper. 4m range

Afterwards, was a talk on etiquette by Cope. Then lunch that was a taste sensation.

Saturday Afternoon
Beach football, necklocks, wrestling melees, water polo in front of a silent audience, Chris Ho mauling, general fun all round.

Beach foootball, I gained a new fantastic appreciation of. Prior to playing the beach football, I was moaning on to a paki (no it's not racist is aussie racist) about how overrated and drastically shit and ankle and feet pain inducing football on the beach is, HOWEVER, upon wandering around, occasionally dribbling a football, and attempting to increase slide tackling acceleration on the proper well laid out beach football pitch, - despite the severely undulating ankle killing sand - beach football was as wholly agreed by your editors, an enormously enjoying limbs flailing experience.

Shame about the crowd for the football on beach though, commentator Rust made up for that a bit though. One downside of beach football though, is the sand literally murdered one's feet, leaving red incisions and pain all over.

After we all got tired of beach football at around 2pm, a dash to the pool and water polo excellence then commenced, Chris Ho quickly volunteering to act a replacement for the goalmouth. What surprised us was how long we actually played water polo for, pretty indeed long actually.

After that at mid afternoon:

Useless telematch. Not too sure why, although we're sure there's a wholly valid sensible and logical reason why we all got facepainted before the telematch started.


Not too sure what they're doing there..


Not too sure what they're doing there...

And there was a little valiant (a little pathetic intheend) attempt to sabotage Chris Ho Sandcastle and sandcastle next to us by rerouting our teams glorious irrigation channels towards such castles, and then breaking the dams to release the oddly sickly orange coloured seawater upon the sandcastles...

Perhaps your editors should not pursue careers in wheat agriculture and investment banking respectively as water irrigation engineering is the way forward, fate more like

Horror stories and fear and early morning beach wanderings
Night we had a dinner, a barbecue that was rained off by rainclouds. After that was Football in room 253 cause a rebellion had been staged with a refusal to watch football in the gold curtains conference room. Despite the three person capacity of room 253, all the proper men of the year were able to file into the room and watch the match/distracted by ds/play vernun narula in cards, plus a few well meaning girls came along as well.

Unfortunately the hotel management weren't Newcastle nor West Ham supporters and outrightly refused to change the channels over from espn to starsports at 11 o clock after the liverpool chelsea match. Several excitable young Indian men on bicycles behind the lobby refused to help either. Which was all a little shit I must say, despite the extrovertly orgasmic happiness of editor 3 and a VernonNarula after Liverpool's defeat of LeonJala Chelsea.

WHY AGAINST NEWCASTLE?
Why, the fuck why indeed.

11.30 pm, ensued out of nowhere a large group of female members of our year group, led by the righteous Aarti, descended upon the room of the dormant Christopher Ho (room 252). Minutes before hand, this editor was lambasted to be quiet in the corridor. This editor dulely obliged.

Afterward, a BT induced mass widespread fear into a group of several girls at around 1am.

Last day
Unfortunately, camp rushed by too fast for us. A supremely relaxed session of beach volleyball in the late hours of the morning was enjoyed highly by all involved. Nadhir teaching us all a strict lesson in volleyball, Yi Xuan's technique failing him. A final lunch at the hotel which was indeed also a taste sensation it must be said.

Screeching tyres and various damage to powered vehicles on the way back, in Tokyo Drift. A little better than the murder-inducing awful Head of State.

camp.
Really GOODDD