Insanity charts

I woke up at four and got ready, and let the others get up at five, as was agreed. We left our house and Jake(Lankford)’s undead groans at quarter past.
Sam, Jean-Luc and I made our way to the bar. Outside it was pitch black, but Sam was already animal spotting, the little David Attenborough that he is. He tried to pick up a small gecko, but it was too fast and all he got was its tail, which moved on its own for a disturbingly long time. He later caught another gecko, which, when I was at the bar and he was standing behind me, jumped onto my shoulder. I froze, and it took me a couple of seconds to figure out what it was. As when we arrived, large crabs were running around all over the camp and the beach. At night, this became their domain, and the beach became a moving floor of carapace.

We were met half an hour later by other members of our group, and all stood by the fence waiting for it to happen. Then one of the girls from last night turned up. Our conversations, when in this little group, as we found last night, always bordered on insanity. So after the usual random banter, we decided to keep a chart, with the number of sane and insane conversations counted in a sort of retarded tally chart.
By the time we finished talking, the sun had risen – we hadn’t even noticed. And the tally chart was slightly heavier on the insane side.

The insanity chart itself.

Breakfast was waffles, which rocked. At about eleven we headed into town, and bumped into the other group again. We then went to the Camps Kenya Office, where Matt(C) left us. He was going home. Nobody would blame him, and most of us would do the same in that situation.

We then proceeded to a beach restaurant called the “forty thieves” where we hung out for a little while. The sea looked even clearer here, if that was possible, even though it was but a minute up the beach. I couldn't help but get in and swim, especially with a sea that looks like that. After I got out, I ate. I mean, I really ate. All day I just ate. We went to a supermarket to stock up on chocolate of course, and went to a small local village.

Before I go on, chocolate. CHOCOLATE. Why does everything taste the same, and slightly on the ‘dated’ side? How can we tell it was made in the middle east, by it’s taste? The only thing that actually tasted any good was the Cadbury stuff – I will later purchase a fifty pack of dairy milk, to be used as high-tender bartering tools within the group. we also bought some crisps that looked like giant Wotsits, but tasted like polystyrene, and custard creams that were foul.

The village had a woodwork shop, which was amazing. Carved animals of all shapes and sizes row on row, so you could barely see the floor. When outside, I gave some of the kids some of my chocolate, which they seemed to enjoy.

Sitcom Minority attitude at its roots.

We returned to the Forty Thieves and had a fantastic dinner there. Steamed crab! Fun to get into, but not much to eat, really.

Stop.

Hammer time.

Then, just as we finished, the room lit up, and a DJ started playing. We were all singing at our table along to Bohemian Rhapsody, Sweet child of mine and Wonderwall. We sang all the way home. Rockstar went down a hit, as did Wonderwall, again. Did anyone actually realize how cheese this all was?
We then met the girls at the bar, and chatted for ages. We learnt that the boys in their group hated us, mainly because we steal away their conversation. Ah well, they’ll get over it. This is the start of us inadvertently proving to everyone that we are better than… well, everyone.

We decided to meet early again. Asked JL to wake me at five since my Ipod was packed away. The Ipod, again, would be a high-tender item later on - mainly due to it's, eh, content.