When I was a teen, there was a time when we were always at the scout hall which was on the beach of a large bay, and the whole weekend if at all possible. Specially over summer.
We could sleep down there as well. We had it all. Tents and camping gear. Rowboats. A motorboat. Surfboards. Sabot dinghies, 16ft Mirror yachts. Big barby pit.
So much better than Land scouts, oh yeah! And we had the best youngest leaders for the senior scouts too. During the 70’s, our group was the bestest ever on the peninsular. Regular camping, sailing and hiking, parents were always there, backing us all up, so much support that I think the dads were reliving their youth!
We were close enough to the Big Smoke that we had tourists from there on weekends during the summer, having barbecues atop the cliffs above the beach where the hall was.
My younger brother (well, they are all younger, ha, so first brother then), and his mad mate Marty were proper little rapscallions back then.
And one day, some visitors atop the cliffs had a band there for entertainment for a special gathering- a wedding? The songs were sung in Italian or Greek, and were loud.
The power for the speakers and geetars was supplied from a milkbar/kiosk on a jetty at the end of the cliff path. Down hill. Below sight of the crowd. 100 yards away at least.
And the power point was not guarded.
So the two of them PULLED THE PLUG, hilarious!
Doda da do whop la da la la tap tap tap…. HEY WHAT THE @#%^!! [in italian!]
And after that second time, the powerpoint was under guard…
We larft an larft aboot thet for the rest orf the sarma.
An bek then, summer lasted for bloody ages!