The long summer holidays were nearly over but for the Cranham Five the best was yet to come. Gareth, Stuart, Jamie, Rob and Danny had been planning the last weekend of August for weeks.   "For better or for worse." Their parents had agreed to let them camp on their own in Monk's Ditch for two nights.

Monk's Ditch was a clearing in Cranham Woods - not far from the village but far enough to give the gang the feeling that they were going to have a real adventure. They would be out of   sight and almost out of ear-shot of their long-suffering families.

The promise of the camp had kept the boys reasonably amenable for the entire holidays. There had been plenty for them to do in preparation and they had used an outhouse at Rob's place as an H.Q. Jamie and Rob had built a trolley for carting the equipment down to the camp site. Stuart had collected medical suppliesand was fitting out a First Aid box. Jamie sorted out the cooking utensils which he thought they would need and Danny was painstakingly compiling a list of provisions to be collected. Gareth who was the eldest, at twelve years and three months, co-ordinated their efforts.

They would all be moving on to secondary schools next term so this was to be their 'last fling'.

The boy's parents were not too worried about how the gang would manage. They had all been Cub Scouts and had also been camping with their families. One subtle problem had to be resolved, however. Once the camp had been set up properly, should they be supervised at all or really left to fend for themselves?

The mothers insisted that certain rules were laid down, to act as safeguards, if the second course of action was decided upon.

Gareth was chosen to be camp leader because of his age and reliability.   He was to raise the alarm in the event of any danger or mishap. Stuart was to be his deputy. No one was to go more than a hundred yards from the camp and never singly.

They were not to try bathing in the shallow stream which ran through the clearing and the camp cooking fire must be carefully attended at all times and made perfectly safe at night. One parent would visit the camp each evening to see all was well.

With that the mothers had to be satisfied. (Stuart's mother secretly gave him her old Girl Guide whistle. If it was blown very hard and. continuously it would be heard in the village - she hoped.)

At last, the longed-for Friday afternoon arrived and the Cranham Five set out down the track towards the woods. Their camping gear was stacked all over the trolley and each of them had a bulging back-pack. Danny's pack was almost as big as he was and he staggered under its weight as they slogged-it down the hill, through a narrow belt of trees and into Monk's Ditch.

Danny was the youngest member of the group and the smallest. The others had been given confidential orders about 'keeping an eye on him.' He was well aware that he had certain short- comings and was not always able to keep up with the older boys.

Having poor eyesight and being left-handed had not exactly helped him through his years at the Village Primary School. To compensate, he was usually able to find some different sort of way to gain the admiration of his friends. His plan on this occasion had been to make them a very special drink so that they could celebrate their first camping adventure in style.

It had taken Danny a long time to work out how to make his wine. He knew from watching his mother that he must use water, fruit, sugar and some yeast, he would have to heat it all together, strain it into a bottle and leave it for a bit.   He hoped that three days would be long enough, as it was all the time he had. Picking the blackberries for the mixture was easy and the heating in one of his mother's old saucepans went well - even if it did smell rather queer. Finding a suitable bottle was the real problem. None of those standing outside the back door had corks left in them. Danny's luck changed, however, when he found just the one he needed in his mother's baking cupboard. It was of green glass, was square shouldered and had a screw top. He wasn't fussy about the inch or so of liquid it still contained.   It smelt alright and would add flavour to his "Jungle Juice ", he thought.

And so, on the Friday evening of the camp, as Danny arranged his pack in the comer of the tent and unrolled his sleeping bag, he was careful to keep the green bottle well hidden. It was his surprise "Jungle Juice", and his very own secret.

While the Cranham Five were busy setting up camp in the Monk's Ditch, in another part of the wood where the road from town ran through, John Gregory got off a bus. His long wakeful nights in Gloucester Prison had given him time to think longingly

of Cranham and the woods. He had been sentenced in the spring to three months for breaking and entering. His sentence completed it was now summer and so, on his release, he headed for the woods where he knew he could 'kip-down 'until he had decided what to do next. In fact, he knew very well what he would do, but a few days in the country would set him up ready for his next serving of ' porridge '.

It was well known by the Police that John was a recidivist. He was tolerated by them with regret, for he was now an old man, sick and homeless and without means.   Any money he might have was soon spent on the alcohol which kept him alive.

Old and sick he might be, but John managed to keep himself looking presentable. It was the black bin-bag in which he carried his few belongings that gave him away.   So after leaving the road and walking a few yards into the woods he looked around for a suitable hollow where he could dump his bag and make himself comfortable for the night. The ladies of the 'Sally Ann', outside the prison had given him a packet of

sandwiches and some drink to keep him going until the next day when he would feel more like making his final excursion into the world of crime.

Strangely enough it was towards the church that John turned in the morning.   He remembered the layout of Cranham Village well, from his younger days, so he knew that it was through the houses, over the common and down the lane towards Sheepscombe. He remembered vaguely that it was Saturday now. He hoped that the church would be open and empty. He really did not want to have to lob a brick through one of the windows.

John was lucky. The doors stood open but someone was inside using a vacuum cleaner in one of the side aisles. He entered respectfully and equally respectfully began to wander around the building as if admiring its architecture and appreciating the peaceful atmosphere. He reached the sanctuary and while out of sight of the cleaner he managed to slip a small silver dish from the altar into his pocket.

John thought it would be some time before the cleaning lady discovered that the paten was missing, so he did not hurry as he retraced his steps across the common and on into the woods once more. Time for a nap, he thought, and then later on he would go for another profitable walk-about.

The Cranham Five spent their Saturday morning more innocently. On first emerging from the tent they joyfully performed a mock war dance in their bare-feet, upon the dewy grass.

The morning sun slanted down across the clearing and the embers of their camp fire were easily re-kindled. Life was good! Then someone realised that they ought to wash and clean their teeth. The stream was the obvious place for this and it turned the whole operation into a thrilling experience instead of the usual chore.   ("And don't go swallowing any of that stream water!" Rob's mother had said. "You don't know where its been.")

The main meal of the day was to be taken in the form of a feast in the evening. Sausages, potatoes and apples were to be served. The boys spent the whole morning preparing for this. Each one had his own allotted task, but it all took longer than it should - there were so many distractions.

Danny's job was to tidy-up the tent. he was good at this and happily crawled about inside, folding cast-aside clothes and rolling up sleeping bags into some semblance of order.

Anyway, he had to make sure that his 'Jungle Juice 'was okay. He got the bottle out of his pack and pushed it just inside the folds of his sleeping bag. he wanted to be able to get at it quickly when the right moment in the feast arrived.

After a scrappy lunch of fried sandwiches the lads relaxed in the shade to rehearse the Scout songs and jokes which were to be part of the evening's entertainment.

Gareth was pleased by the way things were going. No one had been set on fire, drowned or poisoned so far. Now he would organise a game for them - a Scavenge Hunt! It took some time for them to decide on ten objects which they were to find.