How can one begin to describe the joys of sleeping in a hammock? When one sees them in the shops or on TV, they look so tranquil and serene. To begin with, you lie back and enjoy something you take to be comfort. You feel the gentile swaying back and forth, close your eyes and absorb the sounds of the jungle.
After less than an hour, this delusion wares off. The sounds of the rainforest have become unknown screeches in the dark, the gentile swaying back and forth no longer reminds you of infancy and your mother’s arms, but all those sea sick school trips to Normandy. As for the comfort, you spine has now taken on the shape of a banana – you fear permanently. The discomfort throbbing in your lower back is beginning to spread and you try to alleviate it by changing position. This simply highlights your imprisonment. Each attempted shift produces more rocking that nauseates further and fails utterly to improve your situation. You try to roll on to your side, but that only moves your whole world to the side and you stay in the same position.
You are truly trapped. Above you there is a thin netting which separates you from all the wee beasties which the world has to offer. Below, a constantly moving floor of leaves and who knows what.
This is your torture. You wish to all the deities you have so often dismissed to end you misery. You imagine this to be a cruel and unusual punishment employed to extract information. You would happily ask for water boarding than this, but it is no use.
You look at your watch – only 9 more hours till morning!
Alistair Cameron 