Low Mill 2003- The magic never ends!

It hardly seems a month since us rogues at D.C descended upon the Low Mill activity centre, but watch out Yourkshire, cause HERE! WE! COME!

I declare that Low Mill is shrouded in a vale of magic that stays with you long after the last smelly sock is returned to its rightful owner- that will be Jim then!

It sustains our thirst for adventure until we can at last return once more. It keeps its memories close to our hearts, indeed in some lonesome hour, memories of our adventures (only ever experienced at Low Mill) come floating to us like parcels ready to be unwrapped and savoured.

Any way, that's me done gassing on about how great it is, lets get down to this year's adventures!

DAY 1- the arrival

The journey was, as always lengthy in its duration. We were all restless with the excitement of the challenges and adventures awaiting us in wonderland!

We zeroed out at 0900 hours and touched down briefly for a much needed toilet stop at 12.10. Twenty minutes later saw us trundling off the bus in room groups, the familiar freshness of the clean air welcoming us to our annual haven. It was great fun to observe peoples response to the new changes about the hostel, safe in the knowledge that my room name has remained as it was for the preceding years.

The major change this year is the rather confusing name changes- Off you go lads, to the room of fluffy bunnykins ha ha ha ha! No only joking, dangling doom remains the same, I think the staff may fear a lynching from us lot!

Another thing that has remained constant throughout the years has been the arrival routine: GRAB- your sheets, RUN- to your dorm, DUMP- your stuff on your desired bed before RACING- back along the corridors to search for your belongings in the kaleidoscope mountain of suitcases, hold-alls and haversacks. What a hectic sight, but soon the commotion settles and we adjust ourselves in our surroundings.

I am in Great Shunner, sleeping eight, it is the largest dorm in the female wing. It is damp, breezy and I wouldn't change it for the world. I am at Low Mill and that's all that matters. If you find that you don't get on particularly well with someone in your dorm today, by Christopher, you will be better at the end of your stay.  That is one of the many things I love about Low Mill, you learn the importance of team work, tolerance and the responsibility one has for another's safety and well being.

The briefing, far from being brief, was at least thorough, curfews, out of bounds, new instructors- hm, yes we do seem to have the effect of scaring a few of them off each year, and changes about the hostel, the introduction of the vending machines. At least one good thing has come from the name changes, I can now call George CRACK POT without him being offended.

When settled and comfortable, we were told to meet in the porch ready for the first activity of the holiday, a local amble. The scenery was exquisite with the winter sun not yet penetrating into some areas of the crisp fields, making it crunchy underfoot. I don't believe you could ever get fed up with the views here. In the hills about Low Mill we saw wispy smoke rising, it was an unusual sight and one we could not quite believe, had it not been for the burning smell. We walked through many gates and little styles, by streams and becks and over some quaint little bridges before we ascended an almighty hill to be greeted by a panoramic view with the sun just beginning to go down in the back ground, bliss. Shortly we were back in Low Mill for some free time before dinner.

Great Shunner is a busy room but somehow I managed to find some time to myself. I sat on the windowsill and looked out onto the stream, it was a sheet of ice! and I thought to myself, that after months of counting down and waiting for this week to come, it had finally arrived, any work or pressing matters were left behind and this is it, just blissful blankness and stillness.

After dinner I remained upstairs and spent some time catching up with the people I only see once or twice a year. Everyone seems to have been waiting for this week to come, to be ourselves. We spoke about Eastenders, funny things that had happened and the not so funny things that we had left behind but it was just great to be around everyone again. Including, for a short time, Terry who made absolutely sure, I knew that " it was Phil not Terry who made the blunder last year" so ok Terry we know, we know. Damion had hooked up a baby monitor in dangling doom, then trapped into its frequency with his scanner- cool our real life soap opera.

Presently we were called to the stage to be split into three groups for it was time to go on the night walk, and to what has been one of my greatest achievements at Low Mill in all the four years I have been. Our group eventually disembarked the minibus at the top of the Roman road. It was a crystal clear night, perfect for stargazing. I first stayed at the very back to get my confidence, then, when I had an inkling that the end of the road was close, I plucked up the courage and sped to the front of the group then passed them! I then ran like mad for I wanted to get to the bus first for the premier time. But I made the mistake of saying this. It eventually turned out to be a night race between a new boy and me, he won but ha, I sure gave him a run for his money. Even though I didn't win I am proud of myself, I know what I have done and I am dead proud of myself.

It was then hot foot back to Low Mill to relax. Well to give time for us older geysers to get ready for the pub and for the other group to return from their walk. Finally, one hour later, armed with our trusty halogens, George and I walked up the road to the pub, whilst the rest went through the graveyard. We all congregated in the bar to get our drinks- non alcoholic minded youths went into the games room, and frightened the quiet locals by having a game of Arrows !- 1 hundred and 80. Then we heard news of the piano in the back room. Our resident Chopin was kind enough to give us a tune. We were enthralled, the pub owners were going to chuck the thing out because it was old and out of tune, true, but I bet it had never heard the likes of Colin! He played Bohemian Rhapsody and we head banged in time. We returned to Low Mill on a high. George and I sat listening to Damion's scanner, hm, yes I see- he did what!, shortbread? Give us some here! But all the happiness was twinged with upset as Wendy had to go home tonight.