I fart in your general direction

More years ago than I care to remember, I was sitting round a camp fire arguing. It was fairly late in the evening and all the ORs had bedded down for the night. some young captains and I sat up until the wee smalls debating all sorts of stuff.

It started to get pretty serious then the subject turned to time. Does time really exist? Heavy stuff for that time of the night.

I was feeling particularly argumentative that evening. (Being the only female amongst a bunch of over-testosteroned males may well have something to do with it.) I radically took the argument against. Of course time doesn't exist.

I kept my end up for several hours. I argued vehemently against every point their combined brains brought forward. I must have been doing fairly well because, eventually, one of them conceded defeat. His excuse was the lateness of the hour and the low level in the Jack's bottle. I expressed my relief as I had been arguing a point of view I didn't believe.

Somehow, from that statement, the debate deteriorated. Suddenly it was a dispute about whether there is any time, or situation, in life in which a quote from Monty Python is not a valid reaction. The quotes flew thick and fast in response to every hypothetical scenario raised. It became very heated and protracted. We had broken out breakfast rat packs before the call of the day's duties silenced the combatants.

It is actually one of the few arguments in which I haven't taken the opposing view. It is pretty hard to argue against someone who calls your mother a hamster.

For some reason, I have been thinking about that evening this weekend. I have no idea what triggered it. I can't remember seeing a swallow. Or a coconut. I haven't visited a shrubbery, been attacked by a fierce rabbit with nasty big pointy teeth or tried to chop down a tall tree with a herring. Nope, no clue what roused this memory.

Oh well. It's just a flesh wound. Ekki-Ekki-Ekki-Ekki-PTANG. Zoom-Boing. Z'nourrwringmm