Windmill windmill for the land,
Turn forever in your hand,
Take it all on in your stride,
It is sticking, falling down ..
Last night was certainly a contender for one of the best birthday nights out ever attended. In an awesome contrast to drinking and going out somewhere, 40-50 people turned up in leeds city centre to play real-life Capture The Flag, spanning from Park Row, the road leading up from the station, all the way to Vicar Lane where the market is, with a 'no man's land' by W H Smiths on Albion street. We divided into two teams, red and blue, all with respective headbands, placed our flags and played.
Apart from reminding me how unfit I am, it also made me realise, 1. the camaraderie aspect thing that makes people join gangs and, 2. these situations really do cultivate Lord-of-the-Flies style leadership struggles, where you see people really getting into it and emerging as the most charismatic or whatever. We scared and impressed a fair few bystanders while legging out through the streets in matching headbands screaming Spartan-esque war chants, but it was well worth it.
The only negative bits were when the fastest guy on blue team went full pelt into a lamppost and twatted his face on it right at the end of the last game, which was scary for 5 minutes but he turned out to to be ok (we called out an ambulance just to be sure) and about 45 minutes into the first game when some chavs nicked the red flag, which said a great deal about our defenders.
Nights results: 1 broken shoe, 1 knackered foot, 1 massive adrenaline rush.
All that, and we made it in time for last orders at the Union.
