[LazyScot]

18

Ah 18, how to describe 18. The best I can come up with is an incredibly optimistic extreme sports fan who is protected by a sort of bad-luck teflon. Amazing.

A couple of examples, I think, are called for to better illustrate 18 and maybe give advice on where to stand.

These both happened when 18 was on a school trip.

The first happened on the second night, when they had agreed to have a barbeque. Now Mr Struthers was, admittedly, somewhat silly in leaving 18 in charge of building up the barbeque whilst he headed off to collect the food. 18 decided it would be really good idea to make sure the barbeque started quickly, and so added a collection of flamable liquids, match heads, firelighters and some assorted chemical that had been "liberated" for the chemistry class before they headed off.

Mr Struthers returned.

"Right, lets get food cooking," said Mr Struthers and knelt down to light some of the paper that 18 had placed for just that purpose.

WHOOOMPHHHHHH!

Mr Struthers was informed that all his facial hair will all regrow, and that the minor scars are not permanent. He was discharged from the hospital after about three hours.

The trees on the far side of the camping, however, have been permanently scarred by an interesting assortment of odd shaped pieces of metal and strangely embedded wood shards. However, the photos taken of the trees did win several prizes.

On the positive side, the fire engine and its crew were very understanding. As it turned out, two members of the crew were the winner and runner up of the regional barbeque champion chef competions. They were perfectly happy to stay around and look after people while Mr Struthers was at the hospital, and the provided what everyone agreed was the best ever barbeque.

The following day, 18 and its friends were out for a walk in the local countryside. Whilst walking, they crested a wooded hill-top and came to a fenced field, with a collection of farmers' detritus in the corner -- bags, cardboard, wood, string. Now this field sloped downwards. Those that knew 18 would know the look that crossed 18's face...

"We can go sledging," announce 18 happily. "We can build a bobsled from with those bits, and perhaps some branches from the wood. It'll be great fun."

At this point, by way of explanation, it is worth explaining that 18's enthusiastic optimism is both highly contagious and a natural innoculation against common sense. Anyway, back to 18 and its friends in the field, where we find that they have jury-rigged a Heath Robinson contraption that would have won any self respecting series of Scrapheap Challenge.

"Lets Go!" shouted 18, and everyone jumped in.

And nothing happened.

"We need a shove," announced 18 and so two friends got out and started pushing, and sure enough the bobsledstarted moving. And gaining speed. Quick alarmingly really. So fast the two friends didn't have time to get back in. Much to their disappointment. No, honestly.

At this point, it is worth indicating something about the field, that 18 and the friends realised at the same time. This was to do with the field's previous use. The field was not a crop, nor had it been placed in set-aside and left unused. It had been used as pasture. For dairy cows to be precise. And a certain amount of the cow spoor was still in evidence.

"Oh P-" shouted one of the friends, the one sitting at the front to be precise.

"Weeee..... Now lean left, " shouted 18, in a surprisingly successful attempt to steer the bobsled that, it is worth observing, was still accellerating and had achieved a rather impressive speed. However the attempt was not completely successful and there was a small amount of spray.

Now, while the bobsled weaves at least partially successfully down the sloping field, I think it is worth discussing the topography of the field. The field was steeply sloping, for reasons we shall come to later. Towards the foot of the field, roughly in the direction the bobsled was heading, was a large, black plastic wrapped straw bale. The field was surrounded with a wire fence. Beyond the field was a relatively narrow slightly stony track. And beyond that the landscape sloped off dramatically, but with a few treetops visible. Now back to 18 and its friends...

"Weeeeee.! Right!" shouted 18.

"Aarrrgghh," confirmed 18's friends.

At this point the edge of the field came into view.

"I said we needed breaks," exclaimed one of the friends

18 decided that the best breaking system was the straw bale.

"Right!" shouted 18 heading the bobsled straight at the large, round plastic bale.

What 18 had failed to notice was the slight unevenness of the landscape, which given the speed the bobsled had now reached was fairly understandable. The bobsled hit the slight bump which imparted a significant upward trajectory, resulting the to bobsled hitting the straw bale above the mid point. This meant that the curve of the bale added to the upward motion of the bobsled, and the that the bale started rolling towards the fence (at a fair speed thanks to the momentum of the bobsled 18 and its friends).

Just as the bale hit the fence, the bobsled was at the peak of the bale. The bale abruptly stopped. The bobsled didnt, and so became airborne.

"Weeeee....." shouted the airborne 18 with evident relish and enthusiasm.

"Arrrggggg...." commented 18's friends with somewhat different emotional stresses to 18.

As the bobsled gracefully arcs over the path, it is worth returning to the topography of the area somewhere roughly underneath the makeshift bobsled. As mentioned, the landscaped sloped away from the hilltop. Now the reason for this, as so often, was due to water erosion. Specifically a stream, or more accurately a small river. The other side of the track sloped too steeply to be farmed in towards the river, ending in what was almost a cliff at the base of which was the river.

"Weeeee.... omph." continued 18 as the bobsled finished its first attempt at non-FAA approved flight.

"Arr... ummpouch," added the friends.

As the slope was now somewhat steeper, most of the speed lost during the flight was rapidly regained.

"Weeeeee... Right!" shouted the near estatic 18, suddenly noticing one of the trees in front.

"Arrghhhh....." confirmed the friends.

"Weeee....." squealed 18 noticing another potential upcoming flight and the river ahead.

"Nooooo....." added the friends.

And the bobsled left the slope and took, once again (still not FAA approved), to the air, this time above the river.

Leaving the bobsled airborne above the river, a little discourse into recent meterological conditions and a mention of hydrology is worthwhile. Now the last few days had been exceptionally pleasant and dry. However, prior to that there had been extensive rainfall. The river itself travelled a fair distance to reach this point, and much of the land it passed through acted with a nature akin to a sponge, soaking up the rain and releasing it continuously over a longer period of time. As a result the river, whilst not at full spate, was certainly flowing very well.

"Weeeeee---" 18's continuing enthusiasm was cut off by a very loud splash as the bobsled landed in the river.

Now the river, as we mentioned, was full of water rushing down. As a result of this, and the somewhat eratic edges of the river, the river had many eddies. These very rapidly imparted a quick dramatic spin to the now water-going bobsled.

"Weeeeee--" was 18's predictably eager response to the new spinning fairground ride.

"Nooooo...." disagreed 18's friends.

"Oooohhhh," said 18 who had managed to look ahead and realised that there was something of a waterfall.

"We're going to die...." commented 18's friends.

On the opposite side of the river was a large, old tree. One whose roots had largely been eroded over the years, and which was clearly a favourite itching post of many cattle. In fact, at this point, one was vigorously scratching its side. And it was to be the last time the venerable tree performed that function as, with a loud crack, it broke and fell into the river creating a huge splash and accompanying wave.

The wave hit the aquatic bobsled.

"Weeeee...." someone said.

Then the tree, which had also gained a spin hit the side of the bobsled.

Which dramatically changed its direction.

And all of a sudden it found itself grounded on a little, quiet gravel bay.

"Wow," shouted 18, leaping out of the somewhat waterlogged bobsled. "Quick, help me carry this back up to the top and we can do that all again."

I shall, if you don't mind, refrain from repeating the friends' comments.

So perhaps that gives you some idea of what 18 is like. A fun, indestructible optimist. I'm just not yet sure whether it is safer with 18, or as far away as possible. Still, the tales are, ummm, interesting?