Roads to Joy

So Monday morning is our regular Men’s Coffee Morning at New Galloway Town Hall, and after finessing yet another file for the cheerful printer, I moseyed along down for a cup of coffee. I’d heard that the big heater in the lesser hall had been repaired (a bust fuse), and so I expected to be warmed literally and metaphorically by the chat.

And so it turned out. It was a lovely morning, simple ambience and conversation, though we didn’t envy the lads working on the roof in the latest attempt to fix the leak. It was very chilly, and yet the sky was clear, the sun was shining, and I realised that the day was probably a perfect one in which to try out my new wetsuit gear on Ken Water in my swift and sleek kayak.

Now I don’t like to think of myself as an old guy, and the thought of paddling over the water creates a certain frisson of joy in and of itself, but it’s not quite so easy as popping the little craft on the roof rack and trundling it down to the launch site. Oh no. First of all I had to deal with the fears and worries of my beloved, who would insist that she’d fret the entire time I was gone. This in water in which I can stand up, feet on the shallow bottom, should I tip over! I’ve already demonstrated an escape from the upside down kayak, too, in her presence! I’ve purloined a term from geriatric medicine: to geriatricise. I really don’t wish to be made out to be older and frailer than I actually am! 

Anyway, by the time I got all the wetsuit gear on, I was beginning to get very warm indeed, but when I reached the frozen shore of the water, I was glad for every bit of protection, even the too-tight hood. But I was able to launch with reasonable aplomb, and I twirled up and down the river, making my second foray back beneath the Ken Bridge to the safety of the scree bank, still as dry as toast. It was a sweet little exercise, maybe 25 minutes, and a simple test of my accoutrements. I did love it — that feeling of gliding across the water, on my own steam, plop and pull, plop and pull.

I came home full of good cheer, thanks to those induced endorphins no doubt, had a lovely lunch, ordered a larger wetsuit hood, and fell into a deep snooze. Awakened to assay some scales on the piano keyboard, and felt a marginal improvement. 

Well, who could ask for more? I must, however, endeavour to convince my beloved that my exercise in the fresh, bracing air, gliding across the water, is a perfectly safe activity for a person of my vintage, so that she doesn’t fuss unduly over my antics, when I go out again..