CAMP 1990

On Monday 12th February 1990, some 60 Year 12 students, the formidable prospect of their final high school year looming upon them, left for a week of uninhibited merriment and extreme over-indulgence on a "study" camp in Warburton. For some, the two-hour bus trip signified their farthest ventures from home, leaving them with a sense of freedom that was exploited to its optimum as they wreaked havoc on the unsuspecting rural population. For others, the idea of a study camp in an area well known in its abundance of health farms conjured up images of yoghurt and lemon water coupled with hours of intense application of their mental faculties. However, these gloomy thoughts soon dispersed as the "Damaged" boys combined their harmonies marvellously for a spellbinding rendition of "New York, New York" which, no doubt, would even have given Frank Sinatra a run for his money. The overwhelming popularity of this catchy tune on the bus trip insured numerous encores throughout the week, leaving it imprinted permanently upon all.

Upon arrival, we were greeted by the camp director Steve, sporting his lovely green shorts and matching "Penguin" shirt. These clothes were to cause increased annoyance when, by the end of the week, it was realised that he had successfully managed to wear them every single day. On the Friday, with a triumphant look upon his face and still in his green outfit, he informed us that he was going to Melbourne to meet Mrs. Kirner, however popular belief has it that he was really going to have the offending attire surgically removed.

After fighting over who got which beds and establishing that the dog really was alive, it was time to seek nourishment. The menu for the week varied sufficiently, albeit the slight preoccupation with cold beans. Meal times were kept entertaining by the traditional peas, corn, mash potato, gravy and, of course, cold bean fights, which no doubt irritated those on meal duty who had to clean it up. Fortunately for myself and a few others who managed to regularly "forget" that it was our turn, these rigours left us unaffected.

The waistline-conscious were able to work off any excess food consumption thanks to Ms. Cameron's visually stunning aerobic workouts that took place everyday, whilst the men took on more important challenges on the table tennis and pool tables. Mr. Connor's awesome ping-pong, especially his very original serve, left many competitors totally demoralised. Meanwhile, on the tennis court, Brett Burgess and Jamie McNamee won us the right to have a common room by defeating Mr. Bege and the Principal, Mr. Harrison, although the identity of the latter can be brought into question as he has rarely been seen at school. Other daily activities included Mr. Williams' physically exhausting runs (which would have been great for building up the old calf muscles); using Brett Burgess' toothbrush; putting toothpaste in the aforementioned's shoes; retrieving doonas and pillows off cabin roof tops; collecting brooms and door mats to put in other students' beds; and the eviction of absent cabin members by relocating all of their belongings into the courtyard.

After the evening English movie, which invariably degenerated into a pick on Brad Heddle session, came the choice of retiring to the cabins or watching another of a more entertaining nature. Some of us took full advantage of the latter, successfully managing to have two or three cups of tea brought every ten minutes without moving a muscle (who needs Rupert Graves?). However, the prospect of watching a James Bond movie on the last night resulted in conflict between myself and a certain Mr. Brett Burgess who, it is whispered, is loved by every girl at school. Any such ill-feelings were, however, quickly dispelled during the late night pillow, mattress and suitcase fights. Blow after earth-shattering blow was exchanged as the seven members of Cabin X (the names have been changed to protect the guilty) took part in an all out frenzy of uncontrolled impetuosity, interrupted only on sight of a teacher, whence forth all jumped into bed and pretended, unsuccessfully, to be enjoying peaceful slumber. The first night's singing spectacular combined with a remarkably competitive limbo competition, ensured them the crown of "loudest cabin", an honour that was to be retained over the first three nights. The punishment of peeling potatoes had little effect in discouraging the delirious mayhem. Even Warren Turner, not entirely renowned for his intense overexcitement, joined into the melodic strains on the third night, settling once and for all which was the most consistently boisterous cabin.

Unfortunately, the fourth day signified the abrupt termination of the joviality as the offending students were instructed to pack their bags as they were going home early. After waiting in the car park area for the best part of an hour, it was decided to reduce the penalty to splitting the cabin up. The four "noisiest" students were dispersed amongst the teachers' cabins, myself earning the privilege of sleeping in Mr. Williams' room, an experience which has irrevocably changed my life. Nevertheless, common sense prevailed as the teachers decided to make the punishment more constructive by forcing us to watch an extremely educational video on sexual behaviour. Meanwhile, the other three members of the segregated cabin participated in a back-stabbing session on the trampoline, themselves blissfully unaware of Danny Law's unintentional midnight dip.

And so, as the sun dawned over the picturesque horizon to signify Friday, everyone prepared to farewell the now familiar surroundings - some sorry to leave, others aching for home. The "New York, New York" chorus prevailed as the bus rumbled back towards civilisation, interrupted only once by a riveting tour of a water catchment (surely the eighth wonder of the modern world), that's highlight was the inevitable photo ceremony. By late afternoon the innocuous sight of Tormore Secondary College, renamed to make it sound decent, greeted all, and a far more tightly-knit group of Year 12 students disembarked the bus than had boarded it just five days before.

Adam Hill

Reproduced from the Tormore Secondary College 1990 Year 12 Yearbook