The worst place I've ever been
The worst place I've ever been to was a camp in the Lake District which my parents sent me to when I was around fifteen or sixteen. For some reason or another my mother decided that I needed a "holiday". My mother, who was utterly batshit insane, thought that instead of going on holidays as a family, she would run off somewhere by herself, then whine about how her mother had mistreated her as a child by running off on holidays by herself and leaving her behind. So the sadistic madwoman asked my father to pay for me to go to some sort of camp. My father said that it cost a lot of money, which I have to say was the biggest waste of money I have ever experienced.The camp promised that we would go walking in the Lake District, so I had to get some shoes for walking. My father took me to the Marcruss army surplus shop in Hotwells to get the shoes. I have unusually wide feet (29 cm 6E size), so it's quite hard to find shoes which fit me. I managed to squeeze my feet into some shoes or another, but I told him they didn't fit very well. My father said "We're buying those!", brooking no contradiction.
I took a long journey to the camp travelling on the National Express coach to Carlisle, then on a bus to the camp. The "camp" was actually some sort of public school which was vacant for the summer and was being used to house us juveniles. I was in a room shared with about six or seven other boys. One of them was some sort of Indian or Pakistani, a big boy who spoke with a strong Indian accent, who kept making jokes. Another was an incredibly aggressive character called Carl who regularly threatened the other roommates with violence, including stabbing them with a knife he claimed to have, or darts from the dartboard, who was obsessed with "video nasties" and would not stop going on and on about his favourite film, "Nightmares of a damaged brain". The main thing that all of them seemed to have in common is that they had all been dumped in this shithole because their parents wanted to get rid of them for a while.
I left my bag on the floor of the room and went to eat the food. I don't remember what it was like at all. When I got back, I found that my return ticket for National Express from Carlisle back to Bristol was missing. I ended up travelling back to Carlisle to see if I could get a replacement from National Express, but they said there was nothing they could do.
Carl was not only into video nasties but also had a collection of "Colour Climax" porno magazines which he showed around. The boy in the bed next to mine was a rather mild-mannered person, but seemed to be oversexed, and he ended up trying to have sex with a girl in the toilets next to the room, but apparently this ended ignominiously.
The camp was meant to be a "computer camp", which consisted of a few ZX Spectrum computers hooked to televisions in a room with one sappy person who seemed to know nothing about programming.
Other "activities" at this horrible shithole included archery. I and another boy signed up for the archery lesson and waited for the instructor to come. The useless wanker who was supposed to teach us turned up very late, and because the other boy had started trying out the archery equipment, he then refused to teach us at all.
The shoes that my father had insisted on buying turned out not to fit me at all, so I couldn't go on the walk in the Lake district.
On the last day at the shithole camp, my National Express ticket suddenly appeared on the floor of the room. I assume that Carl, the offensive arsehole, had pinched it and, not being able to do anything with it, then put it back.
Returning to Bristol, my father asked me about the trip and walking in the Lake District, I told him that I couldn't go on the trip because the walking shoes didn't fit me, and his response was that I should have told him they didn't fit while we were in the shop!