Strong Verbs Are Just Better

God is dead- but don't worry, he'll get better.

I am abandoning my personal traditions and, rather than heading off to christian camp for an exhuasting and emotionally charged weekend, i went out drinking with the Goblin, MrsBacon and Devious on thursday; hung around with Goblin on Friday and made it to church just in time, still wearing the clothes I wore the night before; went home to dinner with church friends i haven't seen for ages and remembered that i'm not alone in the world; and am bumming around and pretending to translate today. Therefore, I present you with a strange medieval tradition:

Strange Easter traditions
In Medieval England the game of egg throwing was popular in churches at Easter. The choir would gather and the vicar would throw a hard- boiled egg among them. The egg was thrown around and the choirboy holding the egg when the church bell rang was the victor and got to keep the egg.

It can be found at Libby Purves' Faith Central on the Times Online.

Also, if I were to start keeping this blog, would you read it?

I drove Joel and myself to Easter Camp, making this past Easter our first ever utterly independant camp-going experience. Mum was terribly worried that I'd kill him on the way there. I pointed out the unfairness of the fact that she's not worried about me dying in the car anymore, yet the thought of Joel with me brought her out in a cold sweat.
I think she was more worried about me *deliberately* killing him, though, because we tend to fight like cat and dog on family trips. There's a big difference, though, between being relegated to the back seat, which brings out one's inner brat, and setting off together on an adult expedition.

Anyhow. We got up there with no trouble, aside from me nearly sideswiping a blue station wagon just outside the showground. Camp was good. Joel got up to all sorts of hijinks, all of which I was filled in on on the way home. Notable highlights:

*We arrive. Joel's jacket is in the bottom of the car. I, warm from putting up tents, chuck him coat. This coat is black and fairly boring. Last year, when he was at Black Stump, he rang mum to say that a) his airbed had gone down and b) he was cold. So mum and dad drove all the way over here, from where they were staying out west, and picked up my airbed and, at Joel's request, my coat. When he saw it, he was heard to remark: UGH! Not that one! I want her other jacket! (My other jacket is tight-fitted and very metro on Joel, so I had elected not to send it). Anyway, so here's Joel in this formerly unattractive coat, putting up a tent.
Three girls rish over. Ooooh, Joel, that's a hot coat! Me: Hey! It's mine! Three Girls, accompanied by looks of surprise (it speaks!): Well it looks great on Joel!
Joel hugs and compliments these girls, fiddles with my collar, and generally preens. We dig his stuff out of the car. He looks at his jacket.
Hey Amy... that jacket is really too small for me... and not very warm. I get cold really easily.
And somehow I fell for that, and ended up with his jacket (which was more appropriate for my hip-hop themed community, i will admit) and I gave him my scarf. Which I then, in a fit of insanity, gave to him to keep. WTF?

*Joel has a can of coke and a headache. He obtains asprin from somewhere, and a glass of water. Somewhat confuzzed, he swiggs the asprin back, only to realise he had taken it with coke. He was not a happy bunny for some hours after that.

*When it came to packing up, the car had to be driven around to Joel's tent. Joel saw an opportunity to beg to be allowed to drive. Tired, lacking in judgement and feeling no need to enforce my superiority of age, I agreed. Talked him through starting up the car and driving around without accellerating. So far so good. Left him to pack up his tent. He comes over and says he's done, as i'm folding my tarp. I chuck him the keys and tell him to bring the car back.
Now, when I last saw our car it was in a clear space, within shouting distance of Will and Whitty, both of whom I estimated would explain the driving thing to him and/or take over.
Fifteen minutes later, the car hasn't shown. I step around the tent, to find one of Joel's ladyfriends with her head in the window, desperately trying to explain how to operate the clutch, as Joel repeatedly stalls the car. William is standing a few yards off, looking amused.
This situation was satisfactory to me. Joel is going to be a natural driver, when he gets the chance. He had often been heard to comment about the ease of driving, and/or to disparage my driving attempts. Since he failed Starting A Car 101, though, things have been remarkably quiet on that front. Also since then, my driving has been on great benefit to him, since I've been the one driving him around. So that would make it silly to insult my driving skills, I suppose.

Coming Soon- Easter Camp Continued: Altercations With Bec's Breast

note Joel gracing this icon. I feel the Middle English perfectly expresses his attitude toward... well, everything.
He was most reluctant to allow me the use of this icon, because he says he looks "shockin". But he was feeling generous today.
The jacket he is wearing is not his- of course- but Eleanor's. Whenever he goes out he zones in on a girl and nickes her clothes.

Also- you'd think, wouldn't you, that I'd escaped the travails of having a younger sister. But no! I have Joel, who combines all the hazards of every sibling known to man. Not only does he steal my clothes (or did. apparently i'm no longer cool enough for his standars), and the clothes of my friends, he has also appropriated my hair straightener! I knew he'd been using it, so I emailed and said he could have it. Apparently he took possession of it ages ago...
What's more, he plucks his eyebrows more often than I do (which isn't hard); has more beauty items spread across the bathroom bench; and abuses me soundly for not shaving my legs!