How Old Are You?

I've been camping so much these past few weeks that warm sheets and a comfortable pillow are starting to feel a little alien.

There's a strange thing with age. We measure it in years, but we already know that some people mature faster than others. Some people experience things earlier than others; for example, one person might not own a home or car for a very long time, while another person might have the responsibilities of such possessions much sooner.

I think that the prejudice generated by a person's age is similar to the prejudice that comes from a person's name. The image of a person called "Frederick" is very different from the image of a person called "Huwaidah". And so the image of an twenty-year-old person is different from that of a thirty-year-old person.

Prejudice rarely pays off. For example: I was twenty-one when I started my previous job, my co-worker was almost sixty. Our opinions differed as to what we would like to hear on the radio while working; I wanted to listen to Classic FM, while he wanted to listen to Garage music - probably the opposite of what you'd expect. He also had an all-singing, all-dancing mobile phone while mine still had a monochrome display.

Likewise, I've known some very mature teenagers and some incredibly childish adults.

High Price Paid

The walk to Snowdonia did not go well at all.

It took me all day to walk from Hastings to Pevensey, and by that time I could barely stand. The night was not so bad, and there had been a few entertaining events during the day; but come morning I was unwilling to go on if I could not get any lifts.

What a shame that motorists appear to be unanimously ignoring hitch hikers now. Every vehicle that was going my way was populated with a driver determined not to see me and my desperately up-turned thumb.

My shoulders, feet, back, and knees protested with every step home, and in the end I had to call in a favour from a friend so that I would be spared the ten-mile trudge.

However, since I was not in Wales this weekend, I was able to go to the re-enactment at Battle (most of my blisters had gone down by Friday). We were not there to commemorate the battle of Hastings, 1066, but there were plenty of references made to it during the course of the day.

There was a lot more living history camp-life than is usually found at a Vikings re-enactment (we were Normans for the most part), and the battle re-enactments that we did do were light-hearted to say the least. It was fun, if exhausting.

What exhausted me was training with the might warrior Cornelius. He is renown in the group for being a terrific fighter; he knows all the tricks and has the strength of arm to utilise every single one. I picked up a lot of pointers, but had to be drowned in cold water afterwards to help stave off dehydration. I have more than a couple of bruises to show for it.

Since the fighting had put him in such a jovial mood, Cornelius made a visit to our camp and told us about a wargame he attended in Denmark. This was the kind of re-enactment that the public are not invited to - there is no show fighting. There were some three-hundred re-enacters taking part, and the stories that Cornelius was coming up with impressed us all to a man. It seems they really know how to re-enact on the continent.

Colombus

The time draws near for two important journeys that I will be undertaking.

The first is my practical driving test, which is tomorrow. Okay so it's not really that special, but passing it will open a new avenue for me and save me paying through the nose for lessons every week. I'm pretty confident that I will avoid enough minor faults or any major faults that would cause me to fail. Still, time will tell. I'm not way near as confident in a car as I was on a bike when I took my practical bike test.

The other, more interesting journey, is my trek into the unknown (unknown by me at least) which should commence on the following day. I have everything I need save a windproof lighter. I am still trying different ways of packing my gear to find the most efficient and comfortable configuration of equipment, clothing, and trappings. I have my fingers crossed that the weather, and any motorists I might ask lifts from, will be merciful.

It may well be that I get as far as the South Downs and turn out to be fed up enough to turn back home. A freak storm could rise up and drench me, or I could break something vitally important to my camp, get "moved on" by a fussy landowner, or even ever more fond of a warm and comfortable weekend indoors where I am not bothered by spiders and raindrops.

My first concern is food and water. I don't want to be carrying a week's supply of baked beans with me, so I'll have to think hard about what provisions I purchase tomorrow in preparation for the road ahead. I'm going to have to visit shops on the way, even if I get lifts. I have a cunning plan to keep my money safe and accessible.

I picked up a couple of disposable cameras today, so there should be no excuse for not bringing back images to share. I'll try and get some writing done out there too, and I purchased a trio of novels to keep my mind alight on rainy days and sleepless nights... although I'm now wondering which one/s to take with me and which title/s to preserve for a night in when I return.

If I fail to reach my intended destination, it will not be a massive shame. The target for this journey is Snowdonia, or at least the Brecon Beacons; but those are only physical landmarks. If I find something else, if I learn something new or contrary to what I previously held true, it will still have been an expedition of discovery. After all, Columbus never found China.