From: jim.speirs@canrem.com (Jim Speirs)
To: dannys@iis.ee.ethz.ch (Danny Schwendener)
Subject: On the Level



Article #R88.
=============

On the Level
John Sweet
The Leader, April 1982


A fortune awaits the man who can devise a method of bottling woodsmoke
under pressure for use in urban troop rooms. An occasional whiff of
the stuff would work wonders in some places. Another possibility is a
woodsmoke-enriched joss stick, perhaps with the aroma of trampled turf
and sizzling bacon added. Any offers? We promise to field test any
specimens submitted. 


It is a matter of Scout history that, one evening in the year 1974, a
patrol of Scouts from the 38th Camberwell (Dulwich College) Troop,
London S.E., in the throes of a wide game, knocked on the door of
Number 10 Downing Street, the official residence of the Prime
Minister, and asked politely for three sheets of official civil
service issue toilet paper. Their request was received with equal
courtesy. The police officer on duty looked on impassively as the
documents were produced and handed over. The patrol leader said,
"Thank you." The doorman said, "Not at all." The door closed. The boys
departed. The unceasing surge of traffic up and down Whitehall
continued unabated and the tranquility in the blind alley which is
Downing Street slumbered on.

There is hope for old England yet.


And now--surprise, surprise! -for the first time in the history of
Scout journalism, an original poem by Patrol Leader J. Sweet,
especially composed in a leaky tent on a wet day in camp, shortly
after the turn of the century, for recitation by Scout Freddie
Mellidew at the final campfire at West Woodburn, Northumberland,
England, and preserved for posterity in the pages of the 2nd Wallsend
Troop logbook (editor, J. Sweet). The original idea was that Freddie
should learn the thing off by heart and declaim it in the style of a
member of the Royal Shakespeare Company, Sir Frank Benson for choice,
but we weren't fussy. However, Freddie jibbed at that so we pinned the
script to the back of an ordnance survey map of the Scottish border
country so that the troop would have something to look at while,
protected by the map, Freddie read off my immortal lines by the light
of a hurricane lamp held by myself. Though I say it as shouldn't, it
went over big, though of course it was Freddie who got all the credit.

Here it is.


Show me a map and I'm restless 
For the road and the hill and the sky,
And wanderlust demands that I must Pack my kit and fly.

So give me a map that a man can follow 
>From here to Timbuktu, 
And I'm on my way, rain, shine or blow, 
I don't give a hoot which way I go. 
When I'm out on the grid I'll have you know 
That any old map will do.


There are maps all brightly coloured 
In yellow and green and blue,
And the roads are spread like a spider's web
And the brown hills call to you.

So give me a map that a man can follow 
Through the land of Cloud Cuckoo, 
>From London Town to the deep blue sea, 
Wherever the mood may pilot me, 
When I'm out on the grid it's the same to me 
And any old map will do.

When Scouting days are over 
And the years have told on me, 
In loneliness I'll still possess 
A map of memory.

So give me a map that a man can follow 
When his roving days are through: 
Where every road's a familiar friend, 
Adventure waits round every bend. 
When I'm out on the grid near journey's end 
Just any old map will do. 
Yes! 
Any old map will do.


It is just possible, I suppose, that troop night has got a bit dull
and repetitive in recent months. Small wonder if it has but, even if
it hasn't, there'd be no harm in ringing the changes by promoting a
"Scouting for Fun Night" with as many goofy ideas and activities in
the action packed program as your patrol leaders council can dream up.
The following are just suggestions.

- Lifeline: Patrols compete to make the longest "lifeline" with
articles of their own clothing. No great strain need be put on the
line but it must hold together when held by its extremities, without
touching the deck at any point. At the right moment, an assistant
Scout leader should rush into the room shouting, "Mayday! Mayday!
Somebody's coming!"

- Shot at Dawn: Scouters, having been tried and found guilty as
charged, should be blindfolded, lined up against the wall, offered
(candy) cigarettes and shot. The weapons are empty washing-up liquid
bottles (plastic) with stoppers detached. These makeshift airguns are
fired by jumping hard with both feet together so that the plastic
stoppers fly like cartridges. This excellent activity is particularly
effective if the firing is done in controlled volleys.

- Hot Musak: From time to time a lively tune is played on tape or
record and everyone, including Scouters, must stop what they are doing
and start jiving like the clappers until the music is abruptly
suspended, at which time work is resumed immediately just where it
left off.

- No-tent Tent-pitching: For each patrol, four 4 ft. garden canes,
four strong elastic bands, a ball of fine string and a handful of what
we Brits call drawing-pins and our Canadian brothers thumb tacks. The
task: to pitch a skeleton patrol tent on the troop room floor,
tailor-made to take the entire patrol . If the floor won't take pins,
provide insulating tape instead.

- Chain Gang: Troop in circle. At signal, all slouch round like lifers
in the exercise yard on Devil's Island. When the signal is given, each
jumps on the back of the man in front. When order has been restored,
hand out short lengths of rope and invite the inmates to promenade as
before and, at a given signal, put a bowline round the waist of one or
other of their immediate neighbours; one toot on the Scouter's whistle
for the man in front, two for the man behind.

- Witch Doctors: For each patrol lots of old newspapers, perhaps a
sheet of coloured crepe paper, a hank of sisal twine and a roll of
brown paper gumstrip. The task: to disguise themselves as witch
doctors and devise a course of treatment for whatever ailment may be
afflicting the Scout leader at the time. Tom-tom accompaniment to be
provided by an orchestra of the assistant patrol leaders.


Miss no opportunity to give your assistant patrol leaders a chance to
exercise a bit of leadership in the troop room. Here's a simple
f'rinstance:

Call up the patrol leaders and ask them to put their assistants in
charge of the improvisation of a stretcher with whatever is available,
while they, the patrol leaders, work together as a team to set up a
short obstacle course in and around the troop room. When this has been
done, the patrol leaders are informed that they, themselves, are to be
their own casualties and must suffer themselves to be transported in
uncomplaining silence over the obstacles they have created. At the
conclusion of the exercise, the assistant patrol leaders must try to
justify the suitability of their own stretcher in relation to the
disability of their "patient". Patrol leaders will then be at liberty
to comment as they think fit.


Twenty years ago a party of Scout leaders undergoing training at
Gilwell Park in the county of Essex, England, reached their finest
hour when they designed and built, entirely out of their own heads, a
mechanism which came to be known as "The Peckers' Portable Periodic
Picket Plonker". No one was more surprised than they when they found
that it actually worked .

The task they had been assigned was to build a machine with anything
they could find that would enable one man to wield two large mauls
singlehandedly. As you will observe, by skilful manipulation of the
controlling cord, the operator was able to raise and lower the mauls
at will. The double tongs at the bottom held the picket in place and
helped to keep the plonkers on target. In actual practice, as I
clearly remember, for I was there at the time, it was found necessary
to hold the machine down by brute force while it was running, as it
became rather skittish and kept bouncing off the job at each
shuddering blow. This entailed a certain amount of risk to the person,
for there was always the possibility that the plonkers would miss dead
centre and take a swipe at one of the spectators instead.

Still, credit where credit is due. Personally, speaking as a Cuckoo
myself, I have never had much of an opinion of Woodpeckers as such,
but for the last 20 years or more, their Finest Hour has been recorded
in a little book of mine called Patrol Blueprints and now that this
fine work of literature and art has finally gone out of print forever,
I feel I must take this last opportunity to pay tribute to their great
achievement.


Footling Footnotes

(with grateful acknowledgment to my old friend Dave Siddons of
SCOUTING Magazine (U.K.) who is adept at sorting out the wheat from
the chaff).


- A grannie is a useless knot but a sharp tug in the right direction
will convert it into a clove hitch. Do that with a reef knot and all
you get is a piffling larkshead. (Must be a moral in that somewhere.)

- Taking a naked flame into a modern tent is like striking a match to
look for the source of trouble under the hood of a car.

- They say a watched pot never boils. An unwatched pot can easily boil
dry and end up a total write-off.

- A good Scout leader never raises his voice. He gets someone else to
do the shouting for him and then addresses the troop in civilized,
well modulated tones.

- It is true that you may not be able to produce fire by friction, but
the exercise will certainly warm you up to the point where you may not
need a fire.

- A good Scout is one who takes more care of other people's property
than he does of his own. An even better Scout is one who takes good
care of both.