Day One:
Let me start out by saying I’m not writing this because my mother told me that “it would be good for me” or because “in ten years I’ll look back and laugh”. No, I’m writing because I am stuck in the middle of nowhere in this god forsaken camp with nothing better to do!

It rained all morning! My mother was late in dropping me off so I didn’t get first choice in bunks. I had to take a bottom bunk. It’s at least a hundred degrees in this cabin and I think I might sweat to death. On top of my bunk I found the CAMP rules and guidelines. What is this, a PRISON? There’s no running water, I have to pee in an outhouse and there aren’t any showers! How GROSS! There’s no electricity! That means no tv, no computer, no playstation, and NO air conditioning! Rule number five in the handbook says there will be NO use of electrical devices of any kind. If you’re caught with “said device” it will be taken away and returned at the end of the week I also read that there will be a monk dinner on Wednesday where you’re not allowed to talk. If you do, they’ll take utensils away. Again, PRISON! There is a strict policy of lights out at 8 pm. What am I, five? If it ever stops raining we’re supposed to have a sing song at the campfire. All I have to say is, I will remember this place when picking a retirement home for my parents.

Day Two:
It just keeps getting worse. Last night’s dinner was Tuna surprise. The kitchen staff didn’t tell me until after I had eaten half my plate. I’m allergic to fish!! I spent half the night running to the outhouse and it’s at least a mile from the cabin! To make matters worse, now I have a giant mosquito bite on my butt. After finally getting to sleep I woke up to what I thought was water dripping on me. Guess what? The girl on the top bunk is a bed wetter. I was covered in someone else’s pee and I couldn’t even shower! I did manage to find a sink with working water this morning so I tried to clean myself up. Today we had to sign up for an activity. I picked photography. This morning at breakfast we were told that our cabins have to be kept clean. Each morning the camp leaders do inspections. The cleanest cabin gets the “Eager Beaver” award (more like butt kisser award) and the messiest gets the “Toilet Bowl” award. My Cabin won the bowl award so now we have to wake up at six am tomorrow and run three miles around the camp! This is SO A PRISON! Did I mention I hate this place.

Day Three:
I was not impressed by the three mile run. Now I smell like a gym sock. At breakfast, once again, my cabin got the bowl award. So it looks like it will be another three mile run tomorrow. Today we got to ride horses. I was nervous at first but found that I liked it. In the photography workshop I think I got some really cool shots and can’t wait to develop them tomorrow. At the monk dinner I apparently made so much noise they took away my fork, then my knife, then my spoon and finally my chair (yes I am a rebel). I still hate this place. At the campfire I was attacked by mosquitos and now look like I have the chickenpox.

Day Four:
I fell off my horse today and just about broke my leg. The only good thing is that the camp leaders felt so sorry for me they gave me some ice cream and I won’t have to do the three mile run tomorrow (and yes, yet again, we won the bowl award). I developed my pictures and got an amazing black and white of a turtle. I actually won the photo contest.

Day Five:
Now I smell like a farm animal. My hair is just about greasy enough to fry an egg on. I’m pretty sure I got poison ivy on our hike today. I dropped my flashlight down the toilet last night. I’m now plotting my escape route from this PRISON!

Day Six:
I chipped my tooth on the walnut muffins at breakfast. While playing volleyball, I caught a wicked spike in the face that caused a nosebleed that sprayed blood everywhere. I can’t stand the smell of myself and I really just want to go home and have a shower. I’d like to know what I did to deserve to be sent here! Tomorrow just can’t come fast enough.

Day Seven:
The camp leaders asked me not to comeback next year. Apparently I’m too “accident prone”and their insurance could go up! That was music to my ears! I’m finally FREE!!!!

I’m sad because there is no school today. I like school because I get to see all my friends. My teacher is happy with me because I can read my reading books faster than anyone else in the class. I’m the best at reading I am! I can smell Porridge. Mummy always makes porridge in the cold times because it warms our tummies and means we can have a good day. She’ll give me a kiss when I eat it all too. But I’ll have to wipe the kiss off my cheek or my big brother will laugh and say I’m disgusting because I still like it when mummy gives me a kiss. They’re sometimes a bit wet, but I don’t mind because mummy smells nice and her hair tickles my nose. She calls me her sweet little princess. But I keep telling her I’m not little, I’m 4 years old! I’m a big girl. She always laughs and calls me cute when I say that.
Daddy used to call me cute too. He gave me cuddles when he gave me a kiss. Big bear cuddles that make me feel warm and smile. Daddy was even ticklier than mummy because he has a beard. I always put lots of treacle in my porridge and porridge is very sloppy and I can’t always keep it on my spoon very long. Mummy calls me a muck-tub and then washes my face really hard with the smelly dishcloth. Then she always brushes my hair. My hair is very long so it takes a long time to brush. Mummy says I should be proud of my blonde hair because it makes me look like the princess I am. If I was a princess I’d want to be Sleeping Beauty because all she does is sleep lots and lots and have nice dreams. I always make sure I brush my teeth and then we walk to school under the bright blue sky, kicking the leaves on the floor on the way. Going to school is always fun!
But the sky is a funny colour this morning. It’s white! Silly sky, it’s supposed to be blue. The sky has nice this year says mummy. She says we don’t get snow much. But we did this year! I made a snowman. I put daddy’s hat and scarf on it and then gave it a hug. But mummy told me to come inside because my fingers and nose were cold enough to drop off. They don’t do that, do they? Mummy made me some hot chocolate when I got inside to warm me up. She put marshmallows in too which I thought was silly. You eat marshmallows not drink them! I sat drinking my chocolate and looking at my snowman. It looked so much like daddy.
My big brother said this Christmas is weird because daddy isn’t here. Daddy is the one who puts decorations up, not mummy he says. But mummy made the Christmas tree look really pretty. She let me put the star on top. I don’t remember daddy putting the decorations up, but that’s because I was little last year. I think my brother misses our daddy too. Daddy got called away. He had to go with the army people to make other people be nice to each other. My daddy is such a good man! But mummy talked on the phone. The people said daddy was sick. I heard mummy talking about guns and nasty things. I didn’t like it so I went away. Then the people called again. They had daddy’s locket I gave him for his birthday. It still had the pictures in. It made mummy cry. I didn’t understand so asked my big brother. He was crying too but not as much as mummy. He said daddy had to go to sleep and that he wasn’t coming home. I think he’s wrong because I asked my nana who said I will see daddy again but it will be a long time. So we won’t have daddy home this year, but we might next year. Next year is a long way away isn’t it?

When we were children my sister Laura and I fought like cat and dog. We could barely stand to be in the same room. Since our age difference was a mere fifteen months, there was no real reason we shouldn't play together. But, no, I went my way and she went hers. We had a totally different set of friends.

The morning of my eleventh birthday started with the heavens opening up in dramatic fashion ... lightning, thunder and a torrential downpour. I was disappointed to get so few cards. All my friends had forgotten, even my best friend Katie - which was most unusual. I just knew she wouldn't forget, so I waited and waited for her to call by with her card, but by midday I began to realise she wasn't coming. She lived just a street away, so I went in search of her.

The weather had settled now into a misty drizzle, which would continue all day. As I turned the corner into her street I spotted Katie with my sister. They were chatting happily together, having obviously done some shopping for Katie's mother, Mrs Hurst. They disappeared into Katie's house, and I waited for them to emerge ... but they didn't come out again.

I was determined not to show how perplexed and jealous I was, but after twenty minutes of waiting my mood was as black as the weather. This was MY birthday. This was MY best friend. We should be together, playing. The betrayal was devastating.

I ran home to complain to my mother, but she said that perhaps Laura was 'borrowing' Katie for a short time.

Borrowing! How can you borrow a friend? I didn't borrow her friends. And how dare my friend allow herself to be borrowed! We had sworn to be friends for life; had linked little fingers on it.

Well, I had other friends. I'd seek them out … except there was no one around! Their mothers said they were all 'playing out’ - but where? I'd spent nearly an hour searching and I couldn't find them.

Then came the final straw; the betrayal that sent me into a tailspin. As I passed the end of Katie's street I saw my second best friend, Jane, knock on Katie's door and be admitted. My crummy sister now had the exclusive company of my two best friends!

Disappointment and jealousy coursing round my body; I pounded up to Katie's front door and knocked very loudly. The curtains twitched. I could hear whispering and suppressed laughter, followed by shushing. I was going to knock my sister into Kingdom come for this treachery!

Katie's mother answered the door and told me that Katie was busy right now and I should come back at 3pm. I promptly burst into tears and blurted out that if Katie wanted to play with my sister instead of me then she could have her, and I never wanted to ever play with her again. And she could give me back the book she borrowed. "And", I said, "It's my birthday and she hasn't even sent me a card."

Mrs Hurst looked totally nonplussed as, my body shaking with uncontrolled sobs, I marched off. But she quickly ran after me. "You'd better come and help us out," she said mysteriously.

When I got back to the house with her she opened the door to the front room and there stood all my friends and my hated sister. They had been putting up decorations and blowing up balloons. Behind the sofa was a narrow table full of wrapped gifts and unopened cards. My jealousy had ruined their birthday surprise.

When we talked of it later, my sister - who was by now my third best friend - said her day had been brilliant. She had been deliriously happy at keeping all the arrangements a secret. It had been her idea to have a surprise birthday party for me. Her idea! My mother baked the actual birthday cake, but Katie's mother had done the rest of the catering as her birthday present to me. Laura had been thrilled that Mrs Hurst had allowed her to help bake the fairy cakes and ice them. She said she had really been looking forward to seeing the surprise on my face. Their entire day had been devoted to doing something really special for me.

It was quite a strange feeling really. You see, whilst Laura said she and Katie had had the most wonderful time ... laughing and joshing each other until the tears ran down their cheeks ... the tears really had run down my cheeks and, to this day, I still remember those few hours on my own in the rain as the most miserable birthday hours ever.

Sunshine filled my room. I jumped from my bed, and donned my play clothes, pink capris and a blue flowery top. I already had a plan for my favorite day, Saturday! But first, I had to do my chores. Mommy reliably left a list taped to the side of my dresser so it would be the first thing I’d see upon awakening. Escape from the dreaded list, I long ago deduced, was not an option if I wanted to get out of the house. So, I tackled the dusting of the living and dining rooms, folded the clothes, put away the dishes and cleaned countertops. Then, a quick piece of wheat toast, a glass of milk, and I was ready!

I gathered two excited pekingese, Ginger and BoBo, and three cats, Alice, Sabu, and Taz, hooked leashes onto the dogs and explained to them what was up, though they already knew. I told my parents that I was leaving for awhile, and Mommy checked all my work, and approved me to go play outside. I heard my Daddy call out to me: “Don’t go into that park!” I replied “Oh Daddy, come on!” His reply was always the same: “There are hobos in that park who could get you!” Because Daddy used the amusing word “hobo,” I never took him seriously.

I grabbed my bug jar, and with my fur-balls, burst out of the front door, making quite a hullabaloo. First, we went next door which was a house-sized lot of weeds and brush, an empty field. It was ripe pickings for victim bugs that begged to be caught in my jar, later to be fed to my chameleons. Poor things. We had such fun darting about in “my” field, chasing tiny butterflies and each other. When we were done with that fun, we ventured down to another empty lot on which stood in its own magnificence, “my” Thinking Rock. Sitting atop my beloved boulder, I would ponder and reach deeply into my own psychic powers, foreseeing my future.

The animals were panting, so we stopped briefly at home again, and all enjoyed long swigs of water. Then, out the door again in a menagerie blur. Our destination was directly across the street to Elysian Park, “my” park, filled with possibilities of adventure. Crossing over weeds and brush, we moved downhill to the dirt trail. We've made this trip together a dozen times, and each experience was exhilarating. Fresh air, exotic plants and trees of all sizes were everywhere. I still had my jar with me, just in case we discovered unique insects, lizards, sticks or leaves. As we trod deeper into the park, running along the winding path, it was sheer joy that filled our spirits.

We walked on for a while, the cats darting in and out of bushes, performing their freedom dance over the trail sides, when I realized we were too far into the park. The niggling hobo doubt was on the surface of my mind, and I felt sudden fear. It was then that it happened. While focusing on my feet stomping the dirt, I heard an intrusive deep growl, and I saw a black boot. I only glanced for a second when my mind and feet took flight. There was an oddly dressed man with two enormous German shepherds attached, the dogs snarling and barking at us. I saw that these dogs viewed us as a feast, not playmates. It was foreign to me to see real anger in dogs. Glancing on the other side of the trail, I saw only a very steep hillside, and decided in an instant that I must scale that slope with all my might. Hastily, I dropped the leashes, the jar went flying, and I left the dogs and cats to flee using their own instincts. I literally ran straight up that hill, glancing back only when the man called loudly, “Hey little girl, you better come back down here. You’ll get hurt up there.” In a nanosecond, I saw him clearly, dressed in all black clothing with freaky black leather gloves and a scary black hat, holding his dogs’ chains. He had advanced on this very hill. Not a hobo, but definitely trouble. Panicked, I found strength in my trembling legs to gallop uphill all the way home. Only when I reached our hilltop sanctuary did I watch to see my dutiful pekes and cats emerge from the depths of the park, one by one. I felt in awe that they all survived, though each was now matted head to tail with foxtails.

Never again did I venture into the park, understanding that when my father spoke, it was for a good reason. After this experience, when he gave advice, I listened.