A Scout is never taken by surprise; he knows exactly what to do when anything unexpected happens.
For many, many reasons, I am frequently found to be resonating— more than likely because I once found Baden-Powell’s whim regarding the unexpected resonating. However, with the odd tweak to allow for inflation and language change, maintenances for such unforeseen occurrences, in a literal sense would no doubt fall these days under the protection of predictable things— if not in their entirety, then at least in their E-ssence. However, no matter how clearly I feel I’m comfortable with acknowledging his inkling valid: that we, the some-oddth generation of hunter-gather should be nurtured with fire and other outdoorsy stuff to ensure the survival of the our most basic survival instincts— I’m sure anyone reading this might maintain their own inkling that perhaps I made a typo— and what I actually meant was ‘cleanly’.
It can be no mistake that the shower has been central to some of my more memorable moments and encounters, because for reasons unbeknownst to me, they just keep on coming. Only this morning my scouting gene was called upon to subdue a salvo when the hot water became overrun, leaving me sudded suddenly, with nothing but the prospect of cold water to torture and not to cleanse. It was a vulnerable predicament to find myself in, and were it not for the intuition to cut off the supply, make a flanking dash to reinstate the boiler enabling my return once debriefed, I might never have completed my shower, and for all I know, have remained sticky for the rest of the day— something no-one should side with as a consequence of a continuous succession of moments melding into one collective experience. On the other hand, it might be OK if the experience involved being sticky for an altogether different reason.
Never-the-less, I handled it with the expertise and confidence I was trained to do around camp-fires— what I wasn’t expecting was the double-play; the muddy water where the very least of expectations take the guise of unknown forces to extend upon you, the surprise that even predictability cannot begin to fathom, let alone quantify.
I was lulled into applying a second coating of soap before realising the trap that had predicated my near demise had once again been sprung: the hot water ceased firing. This time however, there was little for it but to counter the sortie with a furious counter offensive before freezing to death— I outwitted my foe by staying put and though I escaped a touch bitten, it was no more than to be expected— and I emerged triumphant … just a little shorter.
Demoralise the enemy from within by surprise, terror, sabotage, assassination. This is the war of the future.
Hitler was onto something there—
I don’t think he had bathroom appliances in mind though…