Cling, Clang, Clung

Who in the right mind would wake up deliberately early in the morning just to pitch a tent before school started?
Nobody but me. Yes, I had the wrong frame of mind. Or rather, there were eight to ten of us with the wrong frames of mind.
The year was 1995. We, the NPCC girls, were preparing for the National Camp-craft competition. Our target was to pitch a six-man tent and erect a flagpole within eight(?) minutes.
The day was inching near and we were pitching tents as though it was our calling in life. We practiced after school. Early in the morning. Probably in dreamland too.
We thrived on one another’s company, but it’ll be a total fallacy to think we were there to enjoy life.
The training was tough. While basking in the sun was certainly my cup of tea, the blistering afternoon rays were not to be trifled with. (Think heat-stroke kind of hot.) Papa, Mama and Little Miss Blue-Blacks decided to be temporary fixtures for that period. Our blisters made five-cent coins pale in comparison. And some days were bloody.
But could it be otherwise? It’s metal pegs that we were nailing to the rock-hard soil. And they were basking in the sun too, making pegging one hot affair. Don’t pray pray.
We’d jump in joy whenever we broke our fastest timing. I think the fastest we managed was seven minutes plus.
Aiy, despite our hard work, we did not manage to clinch a spot in the ten top. We heard we came in eleventh or twelfth. Yes, we missed the finals by a hairline. Imagine our disappointment.
Nonetheless, I totally relished the experience. Our breaks in-between practices were littered with soccer moments, playing-in-the-rain frenzy, running around, fighting to see who could shout the loudest commands. Yeah, we were a crazy bunch.
Gers, let’s meet up soon again. Where shall we go this time? Midnight hiking at Bukit Timah Hill??! Let's give Ms Ong's lorry a break. Let's give her hell-rides a break too.