Splot!

It is a time on Sunday morning that I usually prefer to believe doesn't exist. Instead of being tucked up under the duvet with bugshaw I am up and dressed and about to drive down to a wood north of Potters Bar to go paintballing.

This is what happens when you say "That sounds like fun, I'll come along" at parties...

MC

Splotted!

Well, I turned up at the paintball site at some ungodly hour, to be joined in due course by munquie and assorted other non-LJ fans and their acquaintances. We were paired up with another group to form a team of 15 or so, and set into battle against a similar-size team comprised mainly of Turkish twentysomethings. (Who were entirely too good, too keen and very bad losers when we eventually whupped them.)

We ended up playing six games, mostly variants on 'capture the flag' in very muddy woodland well-stocked with barricades and hideouts. The final two games were the most fun; first defending a small complex of huts and guard-posts, and then attacking it. Said attack featured my moment of glory as we attacked the guard tower; I didn't mean to single-handedly storm it, but my belief that one of my team-mates had just cleared it out and that I was just going to occupy it was mistaken.

This is when I received a direct point-blank hit on my right nipple, which you may be assured four layers of padding (camouflage suit, thermal waistcoat, towelling shirt and t-shirt) did not stop from hurting like buggery. I am now amusingly (well, to bugshaw) assymmetric in that department, but I should imagine the swelling will go down in a day or two. Hopefully.

MC