"Here follows a leaf from the chronicle of camp smoosh dated Saturday, the nineteenth day of the month of July, on the year of our lord, 2014.
We reclined a full sixty minutes longer abed today (but in actuality as we went to bed an hour later last night it was thus technically little different).
On the morrow we awoke to the splendid aromas of eggs of the scrambled variety. Served in tandem with the eggs we were presented with avocado a la smoosh and all there assembled paid thanks to miss Terry, the egg cracker, miss Blyth, the avocado smoosher, and miss page, the egg consultant.
Not a moment had passed since our delightful feast, when we found ourselves swandering along the dusty path to the brick farm along the river. Here, the bricks were dispensed from the ground like pollen from a blooming flower. Some of the more muddily obliged members of our company gracefully volunteered to essay the art of brick moulding. This endeavour involved the submerging of one's digits within the sumptuous Malawian mud. These valiant tributes were: miss horn, miss tolkein, miss Caine, miss Jones, miss Blyth and miss page.
As the roaring sun soared to its apex and the time grew nigh to the midday peak, we going ourselves in a rather weary and fatigued state.
Alas, our sojourn aside the river bank came to a sundering halt. We parambulated briskly and thus returned to our humble domicile.
We indulged our senses in a "surprising" feast of sema accompanied by vegetables and an array of condiments.
Following this satisfying repas we were graced with the presence of a clutch of local artisan craftsmen hawking their wares. Their paintings held such ocular wonderment that our eyes fill with tears from merely the recollection of their sublime beauty. Their carvings captured the true essence of the behemoths of the savannah verily as though they had been petrified in situ by some weirding magick.
Presently, we were promised a ten minute stroll to call upon a local dignitary, but were aghast to discover that "Stevie time" is not synchronised to the time upon the face of big Ben. After what seemed seven hours later a local peak was summited and we were graciously welcomed into the abodely residence belonging to the chair of the education institution situated in Manyenje. We had the fortunate opportunity to enquire of the life of the chair, his good lady wife and their eight delightful offspring. At the announce of our departure, the gracious hosts bestowed upon us a generous gift of popped corn kernels and a mysterious foreign cordial which they invited us to imbibe at our leisure.
Having perspired greatly throughout the course of our trek it was in the best interests of the entire cohort for all here assembled to be sent to their ablutions post haste.
We were treated to provisions of a sub-continental style thanks to the efforts of misses kickham and bunt, ably overseen by madame Middleton.
The celestial lights of heaven this eve were announced to be miss Blyth and Mr Tothill.
It would be remiss of us to close this journal entry without conveying the regret and displeasure of some amongst our number who are yet to be in receipt of a familiar salutation. If, as yet, you have failed to communicate with your beloved heiress, and should you feel your conscience pricked then we beseech you, at your earliest convenience, to amend this heinous oversight. In this we would be kindly obliged.
Yours from afar, the adventurers, Miss Dooley and Miss Page.
P.S. Team 3, please bring clothes for donation. Cheers.