The stairwell was vulnerable to incoming fire from a shop not quite opposite, meaning we could find cover behind the old lift and the banister. Unfortunately the angle meant that to engage the enemy I would have to fire left-handed, and only had time for a few shots before having to duck back under cover as the return fire pinged and zipped its way around the stairwell. It was infuriating. Technically there was no need to kill the people in the shop opposite, but technicalities be damned- I wanted their heads. My brother had just had an idea, so we both dropped down into the space between the stairwell and the back of the lift. We would have a perfect shot through the doors of the shop, and even better, they wouldn't have been able to see us move to our new position and so would not be expecting us. Ben popped his head out, only to pull it back in with a quick curse. He holstered his rifle, drawing a pistol instead.
"There's one right there- against that corner" he snarled, popping out again to take a few pot-shots with the pistol.
He was right; just as those in the shop hadn't seen us, we in turn hadn't seen this guy creeping up the pillar diagonally opposite our position on the stairwell, shielded by the same lift that had given us cover. I drew my own pistol, the metal cold and unforgiving in my hands.
"You go high, I'll go low," I told him. To be frank, I had no idea if that was a desirable tactic, but someone had done the same earlier and we were both still there to tell the tale. He nodded, and counted us in. We both poked our heads out, waiting for our enemy to make his move.
A glimpse of his head; we both fired. A roar from Ben's handgun as he fired. A click from mine froze me up. Our foe had his gun up before I had the presence of mind to duck back into cover. Why was my pistol misfiring? I looked it over, and then cursed myself for being so stupid. There was no clip in the pistol. Short of throwing the thing at him, it was useless. Holstering it, I picked up my rifle once more, and leaned out, much more exposed. This time I felt the air parted as enemy fire whistled past me. Back into cover. And then the tannoy system bleated out. "Three, two one... game over!"
Of course it wasn't real. In real life I would never run as fast as I did when I went to an airsoft game. But it was something to do; something to keep me busy. There were also the Boxing Day Games, a curious tradition which dictates that on Boxing Day the village of Cookham Dean must hold such memorable events as a Space-Hopper race, the Dizzy Pole game (a relay race where you run up to a pole in the ground, put your hand on the pole your head on your hand, spin round it ten times and then run back) and the blindfolded obstacle course, where one of your team guides two other teammate who are blindfolded and in the waltzing position though an obstacle course made of hay bales. It's strange to think that this year, instead of politely saying hello to everyone and then disappearing back up to Leeds again in January, I will actually be around for 'the foreseeable future'. 'The foreseeable future' is a mysterious and ominous phrase that I have taken to using when describing how long I will be at home for, for no other reason than that it sounds cool; I am actually rather happy in my tiny room (though it does need a thorough clean as the cat seems to have left hairs everywhere, if my allergic reaction is anything to go by).
Strange as it is to think that I will now be applying for jobs, and walking the dog, and playing on the PlayStation regularly, it is even stranger to remember that just over a week ago I was in the Swiss Alps. I was in another world, it seems at times, a place where I was Scouting all day and all night, where the dishwasher was made of sheet metal and the snow was measured at all, rather than simply hoped for. I thought it even stranger, at first, at how little I was missing the place. The people, of course, are irreplaceable, but I haven't found myself sighing and longing for a Thought For The Day to get me up in the morning. And then I realised that I've not been missing it because, in a very real sense, I haven't left it behind. KISC is with me in any number of little ways. I don't mind the cold any more in Britain; I think nothing of loading the dishwasher just once after dinner or lunch. I hope that I've taken some of KISC with me in my personality and the way I behave towards other people, and I know that I've remembered that a Scout doesn't have to live in a World Centre in order to be a Scout all day long; the spirit of 'why wait for someone else to do the right thing?' has stayed with me, even if it is in something as small as tidying up, turning off a light bulb or taking out a bin when it's full (which is actually something that we all used to struggle with in my house in Leeds!) And for all those wondering how wanting to shoot high-velocity plastic pellets at my fellow man fits into that world view, then remember that it's just a game, and there's nothing that scouts love more than a good game!
I'm staring at the hat I got from KISC, which says on it 'live the dream'. When I first got to KISC I thought that it was the place itself that was the dream; the building, the activities, the people, the mountains. I thought that I would have to wake up from the dream when I came back home (I know, it's a terrible metaphor we're in here, but be brave) but instead, as I wrestle mightily to bring this blog to a close, I realised that KISC, and its dream, is a state of mind. When they tell you to live the dream, they don't mean have a great time and then spend your time afterwards reminiscing and sighing that it's over. What they really mean is to take what you found at KISC, whatever it may be, and fit it in to your life at home. So whenever I wear that hat, or put my highly fashionable pink jumper on, or look up from my desk at my KISC neckerchief, I remember that I had three glorious months to help run a chalet, and learn all that I could take from that chalet to live in my own life. Not a bad thing, that.
Now, I have a cup of tea to attend to, so go make yourself one and thanks very much for reading this blog. I wish you a happy 2012, and if you find yourself at a loose end at all during it then why not see if I've written another blog- it might pass five minutes or so...
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