Fun Patrol

Having taken yet another sideways career progression, I am now babysitting 100 kids, and not an insignificant number of adults, in a summer camp in the Alps.  Mostly this requires me to be a bitch for no discernible reason. “Stop that”, “eat nicely”, “tidy your room” and “OI come here NOW!”, have become a huge proportion of my vocabulary. This is accompanied by crossed arms and a stern look that Miss Trunchbull would envy. The main requirement of the job has thus far proven to be, pulling entertaining activities out of your arse, at a moments notice with no resources whatsoever. Another critical skill, is learning to hold your tongue when confronted with an impressive level of stupidity.

What are you supposed to say when a colleague tells you they have no shoes? She literally has none, having come to this country in, what appear to be slippers, knowing her job would involve, climbing, hiking and mountain biking.

In another episode of world beating self-reliance, last night I was required to tie the shoelaces of what I thought was a 16 year old, it turns out he was, in fact, 19 years old. At least this one was a camper rather than a member of staff. Little wonder then that most nights I am driven to winding down in the pub.

Yes, I admit that it is hardly a work of genius to sleep through my own alarm, show up an hour late with a stinking hangover, dishevelled and grovelling. However, in this state, I am still able to function as the Fun Police, in fact the hangover and lack of decent coffee, may actually mean I am more effective at this than usual.