Summer mishaps (EDITING)

Summer mishapes

Danny

ding dong ding dong

That's the door bell, just my luck. Both mum and dad are shopping and I'm vegging out in front of the T.V. all alone in the house, in charge of their campsite, making everything my problem. I know who it's going to be – Mrs. Gallibell, the sixty-something who still comes camping with her boy toy. It is ridiculous and slightly disgusting. She hates anyone who is not part of her party; mainly me. My attitude, my clothes, my hairstyle, everything to do with me annoys her. And it's actually rather fun. Urghh, the doorbell goes again. I put down my cereal bowl and go to answer the door; knowing she is going to pass comment on my lack of a shirt and my blond birds' nest hair. There is no pleasing some people. Once the door is opened, surprise surprise, there's Mrs. Gallibell launching into a prepared rant.

"Young man, put your shirt on. Not all of us want to see your chest at this time in the morning. I presume your parents are out shopping but my electricity meter, which is hooked up to your shoddy line, is broken. I need you to fix it. Now, chop chop!"

Bossy old cow. She absolutely despises me, yet she expects me to answer to her beck and call. I can't wait for mum and dad to come back and deal with her. A temptation lingers over me, to leave an old woman trying to be sexy and failing drastically like her standing outside, wearing only her lacy nightgown and a leather jacket If I leave her outside I can carry on eating, but I will continue to be disrupted by her. However, if I bring her in she will proceed to annoy the hell out of me. Just what is the point in trying?

Despite my will, I invite her in and head to the kitchen where I find a plain black t-shirt, a pair of trainers, and the tool box. Fully equipped and suitably dressed, I follow Mrs. Gallibell to her pitch and all I can say is; this woman does not do things by half, the tent is huge! Seeing as it is only for her and her boyfriend, I bet the poor sod had to put it up by himself and I don't envy him one bit. I mean, it's a lovely tent for a family of six! The inside is littered with underwear and yep, they're not the sort she should not be wearing.

I check the meter and see no visual problems; she is connected all right so I go back into the tent and try to locate the extension lead. Ah, there it is buried under a jewelry box and her handbag, which I decide to move. The only problem is she has not plugged her kettle in, which she is trying to use. I mean, you would think to check before storming around and accusing people of things that are outside their control. I plug it in for her and move the box, along with the bag to the side of the extension lead. This way, she can see what needs to be done in the future. The next thing I know, Mrs. Gallibell has taken her handbag from my hand and is taking a swing at my head.

"You little thief, how dare you! I should call the police. Out, out, out, get out!"

She follows after me while swinging her handbag, it making contact every now and then. Shit, what the hell has she got in there, bricks? I'm there doing her a favor and I'm in the wrong, what is the matter with some people. With my good deed done for the day, I head home; with every intention of doing nothing all day. Pure bliss. By the time I've walked across the campsite my parents' car is parked in the drive, signaling their return.

I get in and find dad unpacking the groceries as normal whilst mum is on the phone; taking a booking or reminding someone of one. When she has put the phone down, she comes over to give me a hug, pulling me into a subtle cloud of orange perfume. Her curly, blond hair tickles my nose. My parents tell me all about their shopping trip and I inform them of how Mrs. Gallibell thinks I'm a junior delinquent; to which they both laugh. When I turn to go to my room, mum informs me that a group of seventeen and eighteen-year-olds from Chelsea are coming to camp for a fortnight the next day.

Could this day not get any worse? Bloody rich kids are going to have such a good time here, I can't fucking wait. I get it, I'm prejudiced; but I have a good cause to be. Money doesn't mean happiness, and the sooner people learn that, the better.

 Shauna

*thud* Something hit the floor and I'm not inclined to check what it is. *thud* There it goes again *thud* and a third time.

"What the fu...?" I'm stopped short as mum opens my bedroom door, dragging a huge suitcase behind her. The open door throws light into my otherwise unlit room; mum dumps the suitcase on my cream carpet and opens the flimsy chocolate brown curtains. This causes me to groan and pull myself into a sitting position, about to complain till I remember that suitcase equals travel and travel equals shopping! I then squeal with delight and mum starts to smile then opens her mouth to say something; but too late as I have already darted from my bed and made it into the bathroom at record speed - Usain Bolt eat your heart out. I shower, covering myself in apple-flavored bubbles before wrapping up in a fluffy golden towel before heading back to my bedroom; where I find mum still sitting on my bed with a bemused look on her face.

 "Shauna, darling, I realize that you think that we are going away. Don't you remember that you and your friends decided to go camping this summer though? So we are going shopping today, but not for the usual clothes, more like camping-oriented clothes sweetie.'

 My face drops as I had completely forgotten, I mean, who would see me during camping? I can hardly go a day without a shower or my hairdryer; I always wear makeup and have no love of the great outdoors. My friends have similar views but are more adventurous and relaxed than I am. In short, I am screwed. Trust mum to remember, so now I have to look forward to sleeping under canvas in a field. Plus with my luck, it's going to rain! I can't actually remember agreeing to this, maybe mum did behind my back, and I wouldn't be surprised. I'm going to have to take so many magazines with me since I'm not planning to take part in any sport or outdoor activity. It will be a waste of time and money, especially when I have to buy new clothes that I will never wear again.

 I pull on short shorts, a light blue gypsy top and golden gladiator sandals. I sweep my wavy caramel hair into a high ponytail and add golden bangles to finish my look. Standing at the top of the stairs, I see my mum prepared for our shopping trip. Halfway down the stairs, however, I lose my footing and roll forward the remaining steps. I reach the bottom and by some miracle, end up sitting on my ass on the floor at mum's feet. I am fantastic.

 Mum and I slip into her yellow Porsche to drive to the shopping outlet, my favorite place to shop, filled with lovely labels at discount prices. Instead of leading me towards the normal shops such as 'Jack Wills', mum takes me to the outdoor shops. They are filled with all sorts of contraptions that I can't name and clothes I will not be seen dead in. As I open my mouth to complain, mum throws an aqua checked shirt at me and pushes me into the changing room. I pull off my gypsy top and fasten up the shirt as I turn to face myself in the mirror. This is when I open my mouth and scream!

 This is not happening. Mum cannot be serious; she must be enjoying herself so much. This cannot be happening; I'm not leaving the house. No one would ever wear anything like this. I mean, when is outdoor clothing sexy? When you can show it to me in a copy of Vogue I'll wear it, but until then there is no way on earth. Mum knows this and she seems to have picked up the worst top ever, yet also the best top in the shop. I'm never allowing anyone to see me in this. My reputation would be ruined, and this doesn't even fit properly, it's so loose. There has to be something better, anything. I don't actually see what is wrong with my normal wardrobe as I'm not going to do anything. This top is not making it to the checkout.