There are only a few people who need to know how to turn on the generator - these people know who they are. If you aren’t one of them, don’t turn the genny on. It might be off because we’re conserving petrol, because a neighbouring camp needs some peace (it’s noisy as hell) or because it’s broken.
If the generator is on, the door to the baffle (a big red and white striped wooden box which damps the noise) must be shut at all times.
Everyone should know how to turn the generator off – if you don’t know, get someone to show you (ask one of the old hands).
The generator needs to be turned off at midnight – this is a condition of the village where we camp. If you are the last person to leave the camp, or you happen to be around at midnight, please turn the generator off.
Don’t get involved with the petrol for the generator unless you are one of the appointed people. Hint: unless your name is Axel and you’re a six-foot-three German who speaks half a dozen languages and is licensed to drive big trucks you’re probably not one of the appointed people.
Petrol is stored in red plastic petrol cans, and these are covered in a heavy tarpaulin in the shade underneath the big truck. Do not smoke near this side of the truck. The petrol cans are vented and though we are sure vapour is not an issue, there’s no point tempting fate.
Power cables trail across the site to the dome, the kitchen and the venue. Though we do our best to keep these out of the way, years of methodical testing have revealed a flaw in the god-like powers of gaffer tape*, in that we’re now pretty sure that it can’t be made to stick cables to the desert floor.
However much of it you use.
That being the case, the cables are a bit of a trip hazard, in the traditional sense. Unlike some of our neighbours, who are a bit of a trip hazard in the slightly more pharmacological sense.