Mud, blood, sweat, alcohol and a golf cart ambulance. Or in our case, a whole lot of fun and an excuse to drink low alcohol beer and eat cheap (but over-priced) burgers.
As well as climbing under barbed wire and the fear of splitting our leggings on high fences, we had to endure around 6 miles of walking and fearfully being chased by a barrel and a scrum made up of around 50 burly blokes.
The low-light of my day was the lack of loos. Being from the city, I'm used to the luxury of a toilet and expensive M&S toilet roll. This not being accessible in the middle of a field, a bush had to suffice. As well as being shelided by random country-folk, I managed to pee on my wellies and take a stinging nettle to my bottom; resorting to publicly rubbing it with a dock leaf. Whilst I was left red-faced by the experience, Ronnie was grabbing the opportunity with both hands and even forgot to pull her pants up after. I guess the country girl in her let her do it.
This photo just proves that you can still look fabulous covered in wee-stained wellies and sweat.
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