crossdressing in africa.

Saywha?

I woke up at eight. My first word of the day was rather obscene. By the time we left our hut, their group had gone diving anyway. It turns out JL had gone back to sleep after hearing the alarm. Hm.

After breakfast, we hung out on the beach, and I wrote my diary up to this morning.

guys, we are in Kenya. we could do anything. WHY?

All the groups present competed in a volleyball tournament, then a tug of war. Needless to say, WBS came out top – we owned the tug of war, and it was done as efficiently as only rowers and rugby players know how, with a one, two, three, HEAVE!. Until we actually broke the rope, of course. Can anyone smell ‘man’?

After dinner all of our group got changed into make-shift fancy dress, using bed sheets, toilet roll – they looked fantastic. Nobody else really made an effort at first. But all the girls in the new group had attached leaves to bikinis, but that didn’t look half as good as the togas of our group. Ash, the barman, wore a stuffed bra – it was the most convincing pair of fake breasts I had ever seen.

Would.

Eppy came as a sleepover girl (very cute) with Pyjamas, bear, bunches and drawn in freckles, and one of the girls went as a traveller. Not that she wasn’t already, or anything, being on the other side of the world. Sam and Mark came out wrapped in toilet roll from almost head to toe – mummies, of course.

that toilet paper could have gone to Kenyan children...

They pushed back our ‘curfew’ a little, and we skipped between the huge bonfire and the bar. Most of the group played dare games, whilst Sam and Eppy got friendly. Very friendly. For all his holding back, I couldn’t blame him, she was a pretty girl. We went around twelve, me being the only person to know about Sam’s new lover.