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At Guide camp there were midges which saw you only as food. Your food was either burnt or raw. Freshly self-dug latrines were not places around which to hang. It was too much to expect canvas to keep out the cold of a raw summer night in England, and a midnight hike was neither romantic nor bracing when the hikers were caught in a torrential thunderstorm, eventually returning to their tents soggy, cold and wondering whether it wasn't time to move on from Guiding. And this was before the days of outdoor clothing and walking boots. We hiked in our uniforms of blue shirts and navy skirts and normal, stout shoes. Child abuse, I think they'd call it now.
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