Good Morning Illegal Dune Campers!

Aloha, Konbanwa!
I've recently returned home from "Probably The Best Camping Trip Ever Recorded In The History In The Universe". I'm sure, being an avid fan of my life you have been needing an update, so here it is.

I left couzin Joe's for my adventure after spending pretty much the entire night annoying dear Alice and friends, but that's for another day I guess...

I was repeatedly informed by various phone calls and texts to meet all my lovely people outside the headquarters of evil, better known as the supermarket giant TESCO. I arrived to see Rhi, Bev, Becky, Rach, Jamie, Joel, Mr Joe, Bulb and Matt circled around a cluster of sleeping bags and rucksacks and carrier bags. We looked incredibly conspicuous, like some sort of teenage-terroist-team. I noticed a security guard sat on a bench not too far from us, trying not to make it look like he was spying, though, in fairness to him, he did nothing while I sang to the air conditioning vent or while we tried to kill each-other with trolleys, I do have some amazing dodging skills...

Myself, Bev, Mr Joe and Matt disappeared to find some cheap sunblock at any store that was open. We returned to the troop with a few bags of cheap 2-for-1 soft drinks, a large box of dissolvable Anadin Ultra's and the assorted sunscreens. I chose the safe SPF50, because my natural skin defence has been slowly and carefully destroyed over the past four-five months by every dermatologist's friend, Isotretinoin*.

The bus dropped us off at a crossroads a few million miles away from the beach, so we made the dangerous trek down the small, winding roads, through fences and over dune after dune, until we finally arrived at the beach, where I instantly ran to the sea. It had been awhile, I had missed my home the waves.

"Sam, do you have spare clothes?"
"I hope so."

Moving back to that suncream for a moment, I kind of regret buying the strongest formula they sold, as it was more like thick glue than sunblock, like some sort of Copydex; would have required tools to spread and even changed my eyebrows as white as humanely possible, along with the rest of my face, though, at least I was now protected against the heat and light created by a large solar explosion.

Think of it like, new and improved, whiter than white Daz, but for your skin.

After an hour or so in the sea, myself, Mr Joe, Joel and Jamie set off to the tallest, distant dunes to do some sort of demented long jump to our plummeting deaths, after which I ended up drinking Pepsi, running down the steepest dune into spiky grass and helping the others construct a "perfectly formed" woman out of sand to become a potential love interest for Matt.
Though, I don't think she was quite his type, being made out of sand and everything, as well as her disturbing "Bulb-added tunnelerized lower anatomy", which I'm not going into here, if you care so much about it, you sand-pervert, take a look at Jamie's blog; Here.

Here's a picture of her wonderful, fake, sand-botoxed face, before her mouth was turned into a long tunnel and collapsed:

She looks happy.

Slowly yet surely, darkness soon cast a gentle, sweeping hand over the beach as the sun arced away into the distance. We set up the tents under the shade of the sunset, with the infamous cake tent returning, kindly put up by Becky. Though, this time round the cake looked more like shite and scared the hell out of me and Bev. As well as this little conversation I had with Becky early in the morning:

"Hey Becky!?"
"Yeh?"
"What are these little hook things around the tent?"
"Oh, they should be in the ground..."
"Oh right, fantastic, six out of um... Six of them aren't secured. No worries!"

The drinking began, one can became two, two cans became four bottles, four bottles became two boxes of cookies and other such games, the usual, basically.
Though the constant reminders on how much closer to "midnight skinnydipping" stopped, it hit twelve and the brave few of us made our way to the beach and stripped down to nothing next to a random washed up log and then sprinted down the sand for the sea.

And bloody hell, was it alot further than I first thought. Damn tides.

I looked back, to see if any of the others had dropped dead yet, the distance between me and the rest grew further, I could see distant and faint outlines of fellow naked-people behind me as I hit the sea and headed for waist deep water. It was unbelievably warm, which was odd, seeing as it was midnight on a Welsh beach. Was it the hotness of beach girl? Was it the excessive volume of drink? Or was it some unknown magic-moon-related-heat?...
Who knows, but it was amazing.
After we'd all shouted and Hi5'ed and hugged in the safest way possible, I remembered how I earlier attempted to carry The Bev to the moon, but was soon crushed by the dawning realization that I could not reach it simply by walking. So giving up my new dream of being the first man to not only walk to the moon; but to walk there naked, across the sea, we raced back. I don't think I've felt my legs burn so much but I was determined to win.

I did indeed reach the shoreline first, and with a smile of glory and pride, I then collaped, naked, face down in the sand in front of Becky, screaming:

"I f***ing won dammit!"

I regained a small amount of composure, not that there's much to regain walking around naked on a public beach in the beautiful silver moonlight.
On the way back, far in the distance we heard shouting and dogs and some sinister looking shadows, someone asked me:

"Is that the Police Sam?"
"I don't know, but if it is, I'm all fine for getting arrested. But not naked."

We were later informed us it was just "some poor couple" who thought with the help of their barking dogs they would assist in attracting out attention to the log which I was already heading for. I still found it odd that these people had come all the way to walk their dog around the beach at midnight.

So, we returned to the dunes, fully clothed, to continue the usual, deep, life related chatting on a small edge, each of us acting like a radiator to someone else. Time drifted by like the waves of the sea and I soon found myself in a tent with The Bev, now we could have both fallen asleep perfectly, if not for Mr Joe; who had previously decided to sleep outside, on a soaking wet towel, with dew on his face finally awoke and tried breaking into my tent, though, clever me tried to get rid of him by holding the door's zip shut. After an intense five minute struggle, I realized Mr Joe would probably die outside if not for me, Bev and our magic-Cat-Face-singing-warmth, so I let the dew-soaked Irishman in, still, it was probably one of the most stupid decisions I've made, ever...

You see I forgot how badly this git snores. Think of a truck, racing a train, whilst gunfire is going on either side of the track and bombs land in the distance, Joe could still blow them all away. Except for the bomb I guess, but that's ok as I have my SPF50 suncream to protect me from burns and radiation poisoning. I got about ten minutes sleep max through the whole night.
So to take revenge I steadily punched him in the face, the side of the head, slapped him and jumped on him as the sun slowly rose, as well as having Bulb drag him out of the tent mid-morning while I shouted "I should have left you to die outside!" and other lovely phrases such as:

"Mr Joe, for the love of god, the love of the world, for just everything including my sanity and need to sleep, please SHUT THE F*** UP!"

As semi-terrible, yet hysterical as my "night's sleep" was, it was a fantastic morning to "wake up" to:

Wales does have its beautiful moments.
What a sight to wake up and fall down a dune to.

Of course, nothing says good morning like that view, two Anadin Ultra's fizzing away in a cup of sandy water, an expensive creamy-jam filled scone and a cheap, sickening bus journey home, only to fall asleep on the living room floor.

What a campout.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Beachy
Listening To: Rupert Holmes - Escape (Pina Coladas)
Current Theory: I Need To Go To The Beach More
Quote of the Moment: "F***" ~Everyone.

*Often marketed as "The Fun Way To Induce Suicide", "Death Pills", "Happy Capsules", or in North America, "Accutane".