I too remember the same trip and confess to being one of those responsible for piling on the blankets (sorry James). Roy Taylor was in his element on these trips, buying bottles of cider to keep the troops amused and organising midnight trips to the graveyard having scared the sh*t out of us with ghost stories beforehand. I particularly remember one late night cross country walk when it was so dark that we all joined hands to avoid getting separated and walked round and round in circles in a field getting more and more nervous. Suddenly there was the strange sound of heavy breathing close by and getting closer mixed with the increasing whimpers of small boys wishing they were at home in bed. Eventually we realised it was a curious cow sniffing at our clothes, though only seconds before a change of underpants would have been required.