The Burgomeister

Today is the first day of our church Brigades' camp on the Isle of Wight. Over a hundred youngsters and helpers will enjoy the delights of a week in the open air, weather of course permitting.

Mission Team Leader is camp chaplain. She is supported and kept on the straight and narrow by Mrs EB and Mrs Curly G who I believe was given her ticket by well meaning friends as a present to celebrate a recent milestone birthday.

Yesterday I had the chance to discuss the menu for the week with two of the cooks, a pair of Dolphins (!). In the past our girls and boys brigades have camped nearby each other but never together and thus cooking for both sexes will present a special challenge to them and other members of their team.

They told me for example that this year croissants are out (sadly) but cooked breakfasts stay in and as a special favour crisps which have previously been banned for the girls will be allowed across the board at lunchtime.

One tradition at least is sacred. Burgo.

The recipe for this nutrional early morning pick me up is known only to the few and handed down from boys brigade leader to leader through the generations. The leader who is entrusted with the recipe is called the burgomeister and sworn to secrecy, apart that is from the chosen acolyte who will learn the lore of this ancient porridge like subtance in an apprenticeship that can take ten years. Mastering the stirring process itself is no mean feat.

Some say that Burgo was mentioned by Julius Caear in his writings when he came to conquer these islands and faced the Celts for the first time. The nimble Celts were known to hurl a form of Burgo from their slings and to the horror of the Romans their shields melted on contact with it.

I think I can safely say that after a week of this special strenghtening medicine Mrs Curly G can give up any hope of straight hair again.

Happy campers!