I remember back in Year 6 being excited – exhilarated – to join the Scouts. Partly, it was the knowledge that most of my friends would be doing it. Perhaps even more important was the elaborate, subconscious image of scouting I had conjured in my mind. I saw a warm, wooden shack, devotees of duty huddled around tables completing badges, hot cups of tea sustaining us. This fantastical illusion was quickly, cruelly shattered. At 6.30pm on a cold Friday evening in October, I turned up, fresh-faced and flushed with enthusiasm, to the distinctly unromantic setting of the upstairs room of the PE Centre. Tea and quiet camaraderie? Hardly. Anarchy prevailed. Green-shirted boys ran wild in a frothing, Fanta-fuelled frenzy. I was shocked. This was no cosy woodland hut, built from scratch by a charming band of youths with wholesome 1930s smiles. I had entered a nightmare. Suddenly, a loud cry: ‘Fall in!’ A rush of movement left me dazed, disorientated, and alone in the middle of the room. Brusquely, I was shunted about and pushed to the edge of the room, joining a crusade semi- circle of scruffy boys. The events of the evening continued with similar disarray and I left disheartened. The true scout, though, is a stoic. Through sheer dogged determination, I persevered, attending every subsequent meeting that I could. By the end of my first term, I had been invested, and was awarded my first badge. So what had happened since that fateful first meeting? Why – how – had I persevered? This takes us to the very heart of what scouting teaches: to put it bluntly, how to fend for yourself. One advantage of being thrown summarily into the deep-end is that one soon learns to join in, to participate in activities in order to have as much fun as the people around you.
As a member of the Dulwich Scouts for nearly six years, I have been able to see the group evolve into two separate troops, each making use of a new scout hut in the Trevor Bailey Sports Centre. With these structural changes came alterations in atmosphere. But although the mood is calmer – dare I say more controlled – I still see the sense of the mischief that I experienced as a ten-year-old. And there are just as many opportunities for structured naughtiness. Last year, there were 1,273 combined nights away for those involved with the Dulwich Explorer group and both troops: I challenge any reader to find another local club with such opportunities. During my time I have been up and down the country hill-walking, mountain-climbing, wood-chopping, and billhook-wielding; getting muddy, getting wet, getting food, pony-trekking, sailing – the possibilities are seemingly boundless. Indeed, it is through the Scouts that I found a new love – the unorthodox ‘sport’ of caving. A weekend option turned a throwaway decision into a passion and now I have even been invited to join the Greater London South Caving Committee. This happens a lot: a chance weekend away ignites a subdued spark within you, leading first to experience, then expertise. Consider the Service Team, dedicated to looking after the Broadstone Warren site in East Grinstead, a place that has remained central to the Dulwich Scouts over the many years of service. There is an enormous sense of fulfilment to be found in hours spent hacking at rhododendron; and chopping wood not only allows access to some exciting weaponry, but also facilitates site access for the general public. This energy, channelled into something so genuinely helpful to the local community, always seems to justify the aches and pains of the day after.
THIS WAS NO COSY WOODLAND HUT, BUILT FROM SCRATCH BY A CHARMING BAND OF YOUTHS WITH WHOLESOME 1930S SMILES. I HAD ENTERED A NIGHTMARE
Finally, there are the amazing, once-in-a-lifetime international trips, usually aimed at Years 11-13. In 2014, I was lucky enough to find myself on an expedition to Tanzania, a three-week tour of villages, schools, and natural wonders. It sounds like a cliché, but this really was a life- changing experience. Encountering this fabled part of the world proved immensely valuable – and provocative. It has helped me to realise that there is more to life than exams, grades and the dreaded world of employment. In fact, I plan to return to Tanzania during my gap year to work with the tour company that we used that is run (by chance) an OA and an ex-Scout. But first, let me return to where I began. I am now a Young Leader. I now catch glimpses of nervousness in new members bewildered by the unfamiliar. And I know that not all will respond as I did. Scouting isn’t for everyone: if the new recruit hasn’t acclimatised by, say, the fourth meeting, his future likely hangs in the balance. But to those teetering on the edge, I ask this: how do you truly know if you’ll enjoy it or not, if you don’t get stuck in? Think of the opportunities, facilities, and friendships; the sense of purpose, the achievable goals…What’s not to like? And the uniform is rather fetching, too…
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