Pick and Mix

I had a bad feeling as I approached the campsite last night, there was something in the air that told me to be wary and that tonight wasn't going to be an easy night. Don't get me wrong, it started off pretty sedately, everything was peaceful and there was not a sound to be heard. Then I left the office.

After a quick walk around the site, almost being run over by a speeding Swede (not a high velocity vegetable, but an actual Swedish national driving a Volvo) and making a mental note of where all the tents were and who I suspected were going to cause problems. Once I was happy, I stood outside the reception to pass the time for five minutes, when I noticed a vehicle slowing down and turning into the driveway. I knew instantaneously that it wasn't a taxi, as they never slow down for that corner and never cruise up the driveway at a relaxed pace. As the vehicle approached, I noticed the light bar on the roof. It was my old friends, from last season, the Police. They turned the car around and stopped by me. Turns out they weren't at the site for any reason, they were just passing the time and stopped to see who the night warden this year was. Once they realised that it was myself, they drove off. Time was moving on, so I returned to the office to pick up the lock for the gate and went back out to start locking up the showers and laundry facilities.

Once everything was secure, I heard a vehicle drive down from the restaurant, turn in the car park at the entrance and then drive back in that direction. By the time it took me to walk the few hundred yards from the second block to the reception, the driver had completed that lap twice. I was, naturally, suspicious of this behaviour, so I went into the caravan field nearest the road to see if I could see the vehicle and hopefully get it's registration number. Just as I approached the fence, the vehicle headed in my direction. I ran to the fence and arrived just in time to see it drive past. It turns out it was the restaurant manager's car. What he was up to, I don't know. Curiosity satisfied, I made my way back towards reception. As I was walking back through the caravan field, I heard a van start up and proceed to drive towards the exit. Knowing full well that the gates were locked, I walked at my usual relaxed pace towards the gates, where I met the van. Which, by this point, had started to reverse away from the gate. The driver stopped when they noticed my fluorescent jacket heading in their direction. Nothing, and I mean that sincerely, could have prepared me for what happened next.

As I approached the van, the driver would down her window and said,

"I'm sorry, *name deleted* didn't tell me the gates were locked at night."
"Well, the rules do state that no vehicles should be moving about on the site after Eleven o'clock."
"Can I get out?"
"Sure."
"I know your face."

I knew, from the moment I saw her, who she was. It's a shame that she didn't recall me. Obviously, I'd divulge all the details. Maybe I'll come back to this post one day.

After I had secured the gates, I went into the nearest tent field as I could hear voices. As I approached the tent, I stopped and listened to the conversation. Trust me, it's vital to do this as you can interject into the conversation at a crucial moment. It's even better when you pause outside the tent when the occupants are getting intimate with each other, waiting a few moments and politely telling them that "...this is a family park, could you quieten down please." Anyway, I digress. The conversation which I overheard was a heated debate between two females about the existence of God. It was getting quite humourous at certain points, where I would have loved to have said in a booming voice "I do exist and there are people trying to sleep, please be quiet." Had it not been after midnight, then I would have done exactly that. But, as always, I gave them the polite first warning and they settled down after that.

Shortly after this, I heard a taxi draw up at the gate, so I went to ensure all was well. The three males who exited the vehicle were drunk and loud. Not my ideal punter at one in the morning. Sadly, they didn't have a tent pitched and were looking for somewhere to pitch up for the night. I pointed them in the direction of which they came and told them that we didn't take anyone after midnight (not technically a lie, but it's my executive decision as to whom I let on site after hours) and if they wanted to stay somewhere, it wouldn't be here. It was at this point one of the males became quite mouthy and aggressive. We stood and debated at the entrance for what seemed like half an hour, before I realised that I wasn't going to get rid of them easily. I let them on the site under strict conditions. Those were that they pitched their tent and called it a night.

Two hours and several visits to their tent later, I delivered them their final ultimatum. If they weren't quiet now, they were welcome to stay in the company of the local constabulary. Naturally, they protested their innocence and told me that they were going home tomorrow, on the first bus (around 7.30am), and really didn't want any trouble. I gave them ten minutes to quieten down and left them to it. When I returned, all was quiet and they were finally asleep.

After that, the night was just like any other night. As the late arrivals hadn't paid me when they came in, I was going to ensure that they paid before they left.

At around seven o'clock, I heard a loud disturbance at reception. I was at one of the several points on the site where the reception building is out of view, so I had to make my way down to the reception as quickly as possible. I realised that it was the recycling truck which had come to remove the cardboard. They usually make a lot of noise and I have had dealings with them last season. However, the amount of noise they made did not awaken our three latecomers, who slept soundly until a member of the day staff went to their tent for payment after eight o'clock.

Here's hoping that tonight is quieter.

Back with a bang!

Well folks, it's that time of year again. The time of year when I give my old fluorescent jacket a hose down and pull the sturdy boots from the back of the wardrobe and head back to the campsite. Strangely though, however, I have been quite looking forward to going back to my old stomping ground. I have been working hard over the winter months on various projects, so it's nice to get back out into the fresh air again.

I've been back for a while now and it's been a blogging heaven since I returned. After only three shifts, I was presented (quite literally, in fact) with something which I knew I could blog about.

NB: If you are of a sensitive nature, then it's probably best to stop reading here and read another, less graphic, post on this blog.

I was meandering my way through the site on a cool Winter's eve, when I decided that to pass the time I would do a building check. I checked the first block of toilets and everything was fine. Bearing in mind I was only three days back into the night life of the campsite, nothing could prepare me for what lay in wait in the second building. I walked in and noticed a strange aroma in the air. I walked slowly to the end of the cubicles and pushed each door open and peered cautiously inside. Everything seemed in order until the third door from the end. When I approached, the strange aroma was slightly stronger at this end.

As I slowly opened the cubicle door, the first thing I noticed was the back wall. It was covered with human excrement from the cistern down to the floor. When I stepped back to survey the damage, I noticed that this poor unfortunate soul* had had a rear end accident of almighty proportions. The back wall, cistern, cubicle walls, toilet, toilet seat and the floor was covered in a dark shade of brown.

I decided to lock that door and return later, once I had carried out the rest of the evening's duties. Now, the problem with these cubicle doors is that they can only be locked/unlocked from the inside. To lock the door, one would have to enter the cubicle, lock the door, climb onto the cistern and over one of the eight foot walls on either side. This was not going to be an easy task, as the cistern was covered in faecal matter.

I filled my lungs with as much unpolluted air as possible and held it there, before entering the cubicle. I quickly locked the door and made a grab for the top of the wall. I managed to pull myself up and squeezed myself between the small gap at the top and dropped down into the next cubicle. Job done. For now.

A while later, once everything else had been done, I returned to the cubicle armed with a length of hosepipe and waterproof trousers. I closed the toilets off to the public, partly so I could get the job done more effectively and partly because nobody wanted to be covered in a shower of faeces first thing in the morning. I opened the door and stood well back, aimed the hose and with a powerful spray of water, started to clean the cubicle. When I say, "clean the cubicle," what I meant to say was "spray the hose at the wall/toilet/cistern/floor/surface until reasonable." I did tell the cleaner in the morning and she said she didn't mind and would give that cubicle an extra clean, to ensure all was well.

When that was done, I knew I was entitled to a large, steaming cup of coffee. Which I had and it went down a treat. The only memory I had of the incident, was when I woke up that evening to go to work and the smell of freshly disturbed faeces caught in the back of my throat. Lovely.

Don't worry, future posts won't all be like this. Unless we get a coachload of incontinent campers on the site. And we don't accept coaches, so I think I'll be pretty safe.