Mud Sweat & Tears - Bear Grylls [31]
I would arrange with friends to sneak out after dark and meet on the beach for barbecues, fires and to drink as much illegally bought alcohol as could be found. (At fifteen, this was more often than not a big bottle of cider ‘borrowed’ from one of our parents, in the hope that they wouldn’t notice it was missing.)
We would sit on the beach, swig from the bottle, throw stones into the sea and stoke up a big fire. I loved these times so much.
Mick Crosthwaite was one of my closest friends down on the island during these summers, and he was also at Eton with me. We eventually went on to join the military, climb Everest and cross the North Atlantic Arctic Ocean together. But really the friendship started on the beach.
Sneaking out of home was relatively easy. A sloping roof from my bedroom window led to a drainpipe, and from there it was a simple twelve-foot slither down on to the lawn.
A breeze compared with school.
Mum and Dad would come and say goodnight, they would leave, switch the light out, close the door, and I would be gone.
Life on the beach at night was great. I had my first real teenage kiss with a girl I really liked, on a bench overlooking the sea – and the world was all good.
If we weren’t on the beach we would be in one of each other’s houses. (It had to be someone’s house whose parents were more liberal than mine and didn’t mind a load of kids watching films until 4 a.m. upstairs. My folks, kind of rightly, would never have allowed that.)
I remember, one week, we all started playing strip poker.
This is more like it, I thought.
It wasn’t really even poker, but was more like: pick an ace and lose an item of clothing. I tried one night to rig the cards so that I could end up naked with Stephie, this girl I really fancied.
I carefully counted out the cards and the aces, and rather unsubtly made sure I was sitting next to her, when we started playing. Annoyingly, she then swapped places when someone else came to join us and I ended naked next to Mick, embarrassed and self-conscious. (That will teach me to cheat.)
Most of the time my attempts to get a girl fell pretty flat.
In fact, whenever I really liked a girl I would always end up losing her to someone else, mainly because I found it so hard to make my feelings known and to pluck up the courage just to ask her out.
I remember a friend coming down to the island to stay at the end of one summer, and within twenty-four hours he was in bed with the girl I had been chasing all holidays!
I couldn’t believe it. What the hell did he have that I didn’t?
I noticed that he wore these brown suede cowboy boots, so I went out and bought a second-hand pair, but I just looked stupid in them. To make matters worse, this ‘friend’ then went on to describe to me in great detail what they had got up to in that bed.
Aarrgh.
It kind of summed up my attempts at womanizing.
CHAPTER 28
One of the very strong memories for me, from growing up on the island, was reading my school reports and opening my exam results.
I would always grab the official letter before anyone could open it ‘accidentally’ before me, and I would sprint down the end of our garden where there was this gorgeous big sycamore tree.
It had amazing limbs, perfectly spaced for monkey-style climbing. Over the years, I had got it down to a fine art, being able to reach the highest limbs of this tree in a matter of seconds, and from there I would have a commanding view over the whole village.
None of my friends ever went to the very top of this tree with me as it always began to sway and wobble precariously as you reached the very last few branches.
But I loved that part.
Opening the reports or exam results up here meant that whatever the outcome, I had time and space to keep things in perspective.
OK, so I flunked another maths exam and the Latin teacher says I must stop ‘sniggering like a puppy in class’, but from up here, the world looks pretty all right.
By the time I came down I would be ready to face the music.
I never had anything to fear, though, from Mum and Dad when it came