Hideout

15 Mar 2010

Apart from wanting to escape from my PRINCE2 course (started today) , I don't have that much need for a hideout. Maybe I will if I write the wrong thing in this blog one day and my friends come after my with pitch forks and flaming torches. I'll just have to be careful.

I wonder whether it is a programmed survival instinct for kids to like hideouts. I used to love them. There'd be dens in the gardens, in the field at the back of the house (not so much in the main road at the front of the house - just saying that in case you imagine some sort of rural idyll), in bits of waste ground. Hideouts were good. Whether this would, in times past, have saved me from the ravening jaws of some sort of slavering prehistoric beast I'm not sure. Probably not, since I was quite good at drawing attention to myself by playing with matches (though again, would I have had these in 30,000BC? What's next:"I would have been discovered by a Cave Lion because of the bleeps from my Nintendo"? Might be time to think these statements through a little more, or we'll be back on slip on shoes for peasants again.)

Here's a tip. If you're going to build a den under a hedge in a ditch on the edge of the field, and you're going to use straw from the field to turn the hedge into something like a roof and walls, and if you're doing this on a beautiful 1970s summer day when everything is about as dry as it can be with actually being sand, it's probably not the best time to get the match box out.

Just a thought.

I gave myself plenty of time to get to my course this morning, by the way. Or so I thought. My watch had stopped, meaning I had to run all the way to the course. Bugger.