We have arrived - three hours late, but at least in a dignified fashion. unlike last year, when the entire group shot out of the bus and fell retching at the feet of the startled greeting line of Trill people, after an unfortunate travel sickness incident just before arrival. The boys are mostly excited - they have loved the scenery on the way down, especially the emergency hedgerow pitstop, on the top of the hill. A couple of them, however, are wary; a little confused about what has brought them to a farm in this remote part of the world. One says to me “But what we DO?”
Three hours later, they have had a carpentry lesson in the workshop, and put the first steps in place towards making a kitchen stool. They have made two columns of herbal soap each, mixing their own fragrances out of herbal infusions from the garden outside. They have picked and packed trays of onions in Ash and Kate’s vegetable garden, finishing it in under half the allocated time. They have played football with the Trill residents, both senior and mini, and taken a leap into the lake to cool off. And they have demolished trays of jerk chicken and lasagne. The ones who had been reluctant to come seem to have changed their minds. And the lad who asked me “But what will we DO?” is asking the same question, but in a way that is now far less puzzled, and far more full of anticipation for tomorrow.
Our two co-leaders are doing a marvellous job. And somehow I have found myself in a glorious room in a separate building, with two of the quietest boys next door. I have been careful not to mention any night time stories of last year to the marvellous co-leaders. I don't want them running for the last train to London. Anyway, let’s see. Maybe this lot won’t hold a rave at 3am, while frying every egg in the building.