In any case, tent structures have been erected, fires built, bridges across rivers created, knots tied. All under the careful supervision of a few teachers who then mysteriously disappeared around 6pm. We later found them seeking solace in pints of Jupiler.
Chez Camp Sabbatical team-building of its own is transpiring. In London, life revolved quite happily around the arrangement that AM is immensely practical, good at fixing things and being steady and calm and I am immensely emotional, good at planning in advance and being sociable (also that I don't cope at all pre-8am so allowances are made for my behaviour and I am tempered with tea until I regain the ability to hold a conversation). He knows a lot about a lot and I know a lot about books and not much about everything else. It is a running joke that various key elements of history have passed me by. This is nothing new. Amongst other choice moments of ineptitude, the news that Stevie Wonder was blind didn't become apparent to me until I was into my late teens.
It has been revelatory, then, for AM to discover that despite my lack of sense of direction and spatial awareness, I can read a map. I can help him take the awning tent down without instruction. I am also the provider of French language assistance and translation. In short, I am useful and needed by him. Marvellous. We are finding new routines and roles. Tomorrow we are Amsterdam-bound and I will assume my position of navigator with resolution. Meanwhile AM has been to collect firewood while I open a bottle of wine. I suppose some things never change.