Monday, 28 April 2008

Oh please VS, tell us more of your interesting hobbies...

I nearly drowned when I was four years old. Running through sandy remembered beaches I hit a pool in Aberdovey that turned out to be a lot deeeper than it looked. I went head over heels and got trapped in some seaweed underwater. Luckily my Dad was watching and hauled me, spluttering and crying, to safety. In that moment the seeds were laid for a deep-seated phobia of water that under some circumstances would have stayed with me for life. Luckily again, my Dad was watching, and decided that he wasn't going to allow that to happen. Over the course of the next couple of years, a slight battle of wills went on. My Pa would drag me down to the swimming baths every Saturday morning, with Don McLean's American Pie blaring from the radio of our Morris Marina, telling me I needed to get over my fear and learn. Me, agreeing with him, and then doing as little as possible to make it happen. (A pattern that would follow both of us through my education, but that's another story).
He won eventually, and I'm eternally grateful, as I'm happiest when I'm in or on the water. (Cheers Pop)

So with perfect weather conditions, me and a pal I'll call Kayako Jacko* hit the beach.

I know it's dull. Other peoples hobbies, other peoples football teams, other peoples problems. But tough! I had a great time. SO SHUT UP AND LISTEN!

Basically we rolled up on a North Wales beach, the closest one we could find to home, in 'Jacko's Mystery Machine'
We unpacked our gear in the marvellous sunshine (yes, there is a mountain behind that fog).

and spent four glorious hours being battered by some hefty surf as we plodded up and down the bay.
If that looks exhilarating, it is!

Unfortunately, my good pal Jacko wasn't as enthustiasic in his photographic duties. Whilst I was wading up to my neck and risking my life to obtain shots that would make him look like an extreme kayaking hero, when it was HIS turn, he was standing on the beach taking shots that make me look incompetent.

He also neglected to tell me that me and my non-waterproof camera were about to get hit by this.

Sorry if this has been dull. More dog pictures soon, and, if you're lucky, a slideshow of that week in Majorca.

There is a Kayaking expert who makes DVD's under the name Kayako Jacko, but it's such a naff name I've had to steal it.


BPP said...

What a great post! It's refreshing to see a man enjoying a hobby that doesn't involve pornography or killing things. I once went in a canoe, and rolled it over in a stinking pile of pike scum. I was violently ill for a long time, and now realise I deserved it because I was a bad egg up until yesterady afternoon.

Can't wait for those dog pictures. Keep up the good work!

Heavenly Demise said...

One is so happy that you have a hobby that you enjoy so much. It must be so nice. (puts her rubber gloves back on, wipes them along her apron and heads back to Igor's lab.)

John Q Wagonwheel said...

Pah, inflatables? Pah.

Valentine Suicide said...

Are you talking about my high quality sea-going whitewater raft, John, or your choice of female companionship?

John Q Wagonwheel said...

About your floppy sea-kayak. And yes that can be taken as a euphemism.

Mr H said...

Many years ago, I was sent to the bad boys school, where a series of misanthropic child molesters took turns at trying to make human beings out of the youthful detritus flung their way.

This included canoing. In a canal. In Embra. In the winter. Long before the canal was cleaned up. In the middle of still in use Victorian factories. And dead dogs.

How the misanthropic child molesters laughed as they too turns tipping us over in the icy, shite filled waters. Made me the man I am today.

Steal stuff here - HERE

BPP said...

Pull your bloody finger out!