Tale 30 - Drop Dead Fred

The Sassy Princess is going on her first residential school camp next year 

When I was a teacher, I organised Year 7 school residential camps for over twenty years. 

At Holy Trinity, we had five nights under canvas in Harlech, North Wales.

At Ryburn, four nights under canvas at Kibblestone Scout Camp in Stone, Staffordshire.(One camp in South Wales before we moved to Stone)

Ten years was done at each. What is strange, in over 20 years of camp, is that the first night was always the same, and was exactly how I planned. (Sorry kids!) 

Children are funny. Every year we would get;

1 The tent or tents that thought they were the first to ever have a midnight feast which they planned they would scoff on their first night!

2 The tent, or tents, usually boys, who thought they would make a dash in the middle of the night to either a girls tent or fellow boys tent.

3 The individual, usually a boy, who to ‘up’ his street cred made out he had alcohol with him. In truth, if he walked past a bottle of beer he would fall over! This was Holy Trinity or Ryburn, full of nice children, not ‘Boyz in the Hood!’

4 The immature tent who pretended to do a random snore or cough. This caused other children in tents to copy said snore or cough so it became like a Mexican wave around the camp! 

5 The child who wanted to shout something random out at night when camp was settling down. Something like ‘Cheesy Wotsits!’ Again, you guessed it, usually a boy. 

So, what was my first night master plan that ensured staff got to get some sleep during the week?

A - Bed at 10pm. Apart from the coach journey, and a short ‘familiarise yourself with camp’ walk, little happened on the first day to tire the children out. So lights out later to burn more energy.

B - Get a ‘crack’ first night staff duty team on. First night was the hardest night so you got your top team on, those staff who had done camp before. Staff visit each tent at about 10.30pm to calm them down.

C - Staff get the midnight feasters to put their food away, and tell the coughers and sneezers to shut up. Subsequent children not staying quiet to be dealt with using slowly decreasing patience.

D - At about 10.50pm, after all have had a chat and a laugh, Mr Clarke gets a scapegoat out of a tent. Might be a cougher, snorer, or someone who just wants to shout out ‘Cheesy Wotsits!’ randomly.

Mr Clarke firm with said child (always a boy!) and make sure all tents can hear the verbal warning given to him. Child then told to stand like a ‘Scarecrow’ in pyjamas and dressing gown in the middle of the field for five minutes. Said child will ALWAYS keep asking Mr Clarke how long is left, and this confirms to all tents the sanction is real and happening.

E - ‘Scarecrow’ child returns to his tent. Mr Clarke then warns all tents that the next child will be removed from their tent and put in a tent near the staff area for the rest of the week, or taken home. Rumour is (Childrens’ rumour but not quashed by staff) that these tents are where the ‘mad axeman’ hangs out. Mythical legend.

Time is now exactly 11pm.

F - Silence now ensues, but after five minutes there is the noise of laughter from a tent (you guessed it, usually boys)

Mr Clarke goes near the tent, but not near enough for the occupiers to think it’s them. Mr Clarke starts shouting at a boy. It’s important names are not used.

“You boy, get out of your tent now!”

Give it five seconds 

“Yes, you boy, get out here now! Get your sleeping bag and your bags out of the tent!”

Give it five seconds 

“Don’t look at me like that! Get your stuff and stand by the staff tents!”

The camp is now deathly silent. Children scared to make any noise, but also desperate to know what is happening. The tents are made of thick canvas and it’s pitch black. They can hear, but they can’t see anything that is going on.

Camp now silent. 

Mr Clarke and staff go to bed. 

Few noises now and again during the night but nothing major until daylight which is about 4.30am.

Then the children start to wake up. Staff happy with this as they are now very soundly asleep.

Children visit toilets, mill around field, and one year they even have a game of eleven a side football in the middle of the tent area.

That is fine. Camp is in a field in the middle of nowhere.  It is part of the plan and the staff will get their revenge. 

At 7.30am everyone up for breakfast. Most been awake since 4.30am. Talk is all of the boy who was removed from his tent. Rumours are rife.

‘Who is he?’

‘Was he sent home?’

‘Did Mr Clarke murder him and bury him in the woods for that ‘funny look’ he gave him?’

‘Maybe the mad axeman got him? I’m sure I heard a scream in the woods!’

There were 150 to 200 children on camp,  so no Year 7 knew everyone on the trip. One could have gone home or vanished and no one would 100% know. 

“Did Jordan in 7B come, he is not here now?”

“I’m sure Jason in 7/3 was on the coach and he has vanished!”

Day 2 starts. It is activity after activity.  By 9pm the kids are knackered and desperate for bed.

The camp is silent by 9.30pm.

At 7.30am, staff get revenge by waking still knackered children up for breakfast. 

Best to use shouting, coughs and snoring to wake them up!

The children are tired now all week. Every day is early get up and full of activity. By the time the children slightly recover their energy levels its time to go home.

Many camps have problems on the last night. 

Not on these camps. The tactic was get all shenanigans over and done with first night, and after that it’s plain sailing.

The only thing that affected staff sleep for the rest of the week was real snoring from teachers not used to the outdoor life!!

But wait! Who was the boy who was shouted at? 

Unbelievably it was the same boy every camp. He never spoke. He just took his rollocking and vanished into the night.  He probably hung out with the mad axeman. 

The token rollocking of the phantom boy who never spoke was without doubt the greatest camp invention ever. I will be forever indebted to my imaginary friend ‘Drop Dead Fred.’

The Sassy Princess listened intently. Her only comment was that “Being a scarecrow sounds like fun!”

The Prince of Tales was confused.

“So you have an imaginary friend?” he asked.

“No, the boy does not exist. I am just been silly calling him Drop Dead Fred. So yes he is imaginary, but not someone I actually see like the child who sees Drop Dead Fred in the film .” I replied.

Again the Prince of Tales was confused.

“So what is your imaginary friend called?” He asked.

Knowing I was on a loser, I had to decide whether to keep explaining or give a short answer so we could move on.

“Fred” I said. 

“Tell me when you see him again” he requested. 

The Prince of Tales I am pretty sure thinks I am losing it. If I do see Fred again, I won’t be letting him know. 

Did you go to camp? Any memories you would like to share? 

Can you remember ‘Drop Dead Fred’ getting his annual verbal blast!