This week, for some indeterminable reason, I decided to try and break the Land Speed Record. I failed of course. Partly because I only got up around 5pmh and partly because I wasn't on land.
Buddy JT and I took to the filthy waters of The Shropshire Union in a two-man inflatable kayak. We'd been discussing the possibility of white-water rafting, or a trip down the Severn for quite some time, when JT was offered the loan of said craft. Initial plans were to throw ourselves in at the deep-end and hit the Severn on a fourteen mile down river trek, but common sense prevailed (thanks Madame) an we decided on a bit of practice. Just as well, as we spent the first hour going around in circles, hitting bridges, narrowly avoiding narrow boats and generally behaving with little regard to our own, or anyone else's safety.
After about ninety minutes, we were professionals (definition: able to travel in a straight line without reducing passing joggers/dog walkers to hysterical laughter) and were making good progress. We were also thoroughly enjoying ourselves.
It's great to look at the world from a different perspective, and the stretch of canal we had picked cuts exclusively through countryside and barely touches civilisation. After we'd travelled about a mile we paused and just enjoyed the silence whilst bobbing about on the scummy liquid.
As darkness approached and we made our way back to the cars, we began making plans, and when I arrived home and regaled M'zelle with our adventure, telling her what equipment I needed to buy and where we would be going next. Her face had "Here we go again..." written all over it, but she didn't say anything. Bless her.