Tale 32 - Hop, Step, and Pump

 The Sassy Princess and the Prince of Tales were talking about their favourite beach. Both were very keen on the beach we had just visited in Crete.

They were surprised however when I said my favourite beach was at Harlech in North Wales. They were keen to know why, and if it involved a funny tale.

Harlech was my first ever camp at Holy Trinity in 1993. The camp was situated about 500 yards from the beach, and every night we would play games on the sand with all the children until dusk. This would be followed by hot chocolate before bed. 

Idyllic in every way.

On camp one year, we had a boy called Edward. I remember him on camp for two reasons;

1 His face when he saw the beach. He had never been to the seaside before in his life. As a teacher, to give a child a moment like that is worth more than any amount of money. (Take note any CEO reading this, education is about children, not personal profit making and spin!)

2 His black old school pumps or plimsolls.

It was a warm night on Harlech beach. Some children were playing football, some rounders, some were just sat chatting, and others were playing tag.

At about 9am we started moving the children back to camp. 

It was then I noticed Edward hopping around in one black pump.

“Edward, where is your right pump”? I asked.

“Jamie buried it in the sand”he responded.

I turned to Jamie.

“Why did you bury Edward’s pump in the sand?”

“It was a game Sir. ‘Hide the Shoe.’ Edward buried my trainer, I buried his pump. I won because I found my trainer first.” Jamie responded.

“Well done Jamie! Now that you have won, can you tell me where you buried the pump?” I requested.

Jamie looked at the miles of beach. 

“It was somewhere around here Sir” he said, pointing to an area the size of a football pitch.

“How deep did you bury it?” I asked.

“Oh deep Sir! I wanted to win. Was about three foot Sir.” Jamie bragged.

Of the talents you can have, burying shoes deep in the sand will never be high on my list!

We went to where Jamie thought it just might be.

“Sand looks the same everywhere doesn’t it Sir?” Remarked Jamie nervously.

“No s*** Sherlock” I responded under my breath.

We dug a three foot hole. Nothing. Jamie did not have a ruddy clue where he buried the pump.

We walked back.  Well, not exactly true. Jamie and I walked back, Edward hopped. His sock was white when we started the journey, and black when we got back to camp.

I took Edward to his tent. 

“Right Edward, tomorrow you will need to wear your spare footwear.” I informed him.

“Spare pumps?” said Edward, with a mystified look.

“Yes, remember the kit list Edward. It said bring two items of suitable footwear?”

“Mmmm. I did Sir, but the other pair I brought are my football boots and the studs give blisters when you walk on hard ground!”

Edward was not the sharpest tool in the box.

“Ok Go to bed Edward!” I requested. “I will sort something.”

That night I asked staff if they had any spare footwear. The nearest shops were in Barmouth which was a fair trek, and the minibus was being used for trips during shop hours. Mrs McNally, a wonderful kind lady, donated her bright new size 4 white trainers. She was the only one near Edward’s size 3.

The following morning, Edward was hopping to the toilets. I called him over. 

He hopped in my direction.

“Edward, I have some good news. Mrs McNally has some spare trainers for you.” Showing him the trainers.

“They are a bit bright Sir!” he grumbled.

I explained to Edward;

1 All colours are unisex.

2 Stereotyping is wrong.

3 They are better than your current pair, sorry pump, and the football boots you inexplicably brought which will give you blisters galore.

4 You can’t hop four miles to the sheep farm and back on your trip today. Your sock and foot will not be able to handle either the tarmac or sheep dung they will encounter. 

Disgruntled, he took the trainers and ran into his tent.

At this point, I needed his fellow boy tent mates to be understanding and sympathetic. Surely I could rely on Year 7 boys to help me out?

“Woooahh Edward, nice trainers!” shouted Jamie.

Not what I was looking for.

Jamie was put on WASH duty for losing a pump and being rude about a trainer. (The WASH and GO Harlech routine will be a tale for tomorrow!)

We called all the children to the centre of camp to organise the trips for the day. Edward was one of the last to arrive. On one foot he had a white trainer, on the other a black pump.

“Why have you not got the trainers I gave you on Edward?” I asked.

“I prefer to wear one of my pumps. It looks better!” He replied.

That was a matter of opinion, and very likely, only Edward’s.

As we walked down the road, tourists remarked. “Why is that kid in odd shoes?”

The farmer at the sheep farm remarked “Why is that kid in odd shoes?”

The lady in the shop remarked “Why is that kid in odd shoes?”

I just said we were from Halifax and it was the trend with kids in Yorkshire.

The next day was the final day at camp and packing up day. Edward gave Mrs McNally her trainers back. One beautiful white one, and one very dirty one covered in sheep dung. She asked him if he wanted to keep them but Edward felt he did not need trainers on his feet home on the coach.

One big problem there. Children on camp don’t wash or change clothes much. They are told to, but make very token efforts. When they get off the bus at home, parents and carers are often greeted by a child dressed for a Victorian backstreet film scene of ‘Oliver Twist.’

Edward was no different. However, the lack of a pump on the journey home meant the smell of Edward’s likely unwashed, unchanged and uncovered sock on the way back created an aroma that some staff never recovered from. 

One member of staff said;

“The smell of the sewage works at Copley when nearly home was a pleasant relief!”

The Sassy Princess asked “Why did he not scuff the white trainers up a bit when he got them if he did not like their brightness?”

Fair point

The Prince of Tales I thought would come up with a typical genius suggestion.

 I was wrong.

“He should have kept digging. He would have found it eventually!” said the Prince.

I laughed at the Prince and scoffed “The beach is about three miles wide, and from sand dunes to the sea it’s around 100 metres you spanner!” 

The Prince waited, before looking in my eyes and pointing at the regularly quoted family motto “Remember dad, as you and mum always tell us, Clarkes never give up.”

Deny him, and all my past and present lectures on life are done for! 

I just nodded. 

Done like a kipper again!

Have your children ever lost something ridiculous like  a shoe? Let me know!