I recently spent my first nights away from my family. There was a lot of excitement, and a bit of emotion in the days before I went. I even said I didn’t want to go, but that was more out of compassion for Mummy’s impending
peace and quiet limbo than an actual desire to forfeit the freedom of my first Brownie Pack Holiday.
I had my bags packed 3 days before departure, rising early each morning to double check I had everything I needed. I sniggered as Mummy attempted to paint my name on my matching plastic crockery – with nailpolish, as decreed by Brown Owl. I badgered about the requirement to shop for the red grapes I had been tasked with providing for the pack. And I slept in my sleeping bag, just for practice.
Come the big day, I was off like a ferret up a trouser-leg. As other Brownies clung to their parents and begged an extra hug – one of them even took one look at the dorm and went straight back home! – I efficiently unpacked, following the rules on my to-do list, and gave my mother a kiss, a big smile, and an instruction to leave.
Parents were promised one text message per day from their daughters. Mummy whiled away an hour and 33 minutes on Facebook asking online friends if I was alright. Madness, not only were they not with me, and so unable to give a sensible answer, but I was having the time of my life! When the text finally arrived, relief gave way to giggles:
Eventually the time came for me to stop all the
popcorn and candy-floss frivolity toilet-cleaning and waitressing duties of my break and return home to normal life. I was awarded a certificate. Mummy was worried I might have fallen victim to some kind of alien experiment where the little green men swapped me for another personality type.
Needless to say I set her straight on that misconception pretty much the next morning… 😉