Leisure Pursuit?

           The long-anticipated kayaking lesson, postponed because of lockdown, began to loom and I had to get some appropriate boating shoes. So, not wanting to over-commit to specialist gear, I headed to Lidl where, for a mere £12.99, I found just the thing; a pleasing bargain, but not as much so as the portable workbench I bought in the same shop for £15.99 and which, intuition told me, would prove a sounder investment.

          With the easing of lockdown, life has become busier. All those things I became unaccustomed to are now back on the agenda – though now might be a good time to appraise the value of some of them with a view to a cull. Personal grooming, however, remains on the to-do list and I spent some time on Tuesday looking for a slot at a barber’s. I took a break at the Portuguese café where, fortuitously, coffee can now be served at the pavement tables from which there is a clear view of the barber’s shop opposite. Patience paid off and I dashed across the road as soon as I spotted an opportunity. My barber was talkative, excited to be back at work – and Kurdish (many of them are, around here), so I asked him how things are ‘back home’. It was difficult to hear what he said because of his mask and the noisy buzz of the clippers around my ears, but the gist of it was that Kurds are unhappy. They fought off ISIS and didn’t even get a thankyou from the West for their efforts. It crossed my mind that a barber with a grudge might do some serious damage, but I put my trust in capitalism and its need to keep customers happy and was not disappointed.

          Kayaking day arrived and – first, the good news – the sea was as calm as a mill pond. I had insisted on this try-before-you-buy session, as I have previous experience of leisure activities not living up to expectations. I well remember the mid-life-crisis moment when I imagined myself on a motorbike, roaming freely and in style around the lanes and byways of Britain and beyond. When I went in search of a machine, a motorcycle dealer in Rochdale put at my disposal a powerful Triumph. “Tak’ it up in t’hills for a spin,” he said, casually. He did not mention insurance, nor ask to see my licence – and I did not mention that my only previous experience had been of a 75cc Lambretta back in my student days. I set off in trepidation, disguised as bravado, but lack of experience soon told and the machine got the better of me with its terrifying turn of speed. It was not long before I returned the bike – in one piece – and parked it up, along with my dream. I was not only traumatised but also suffering from a backache brought on by the riding position. In the end, I bought a campervan instead.   

          At the water sports centre the pupil/teacher ratio was three to one, though it seemed there was little to be taught except for how to hold the paddle, which took about three minutes. When it came to struggling into wetsuits, jackets and buoyancy vests, however, we were on our own and it took far longer. Once afloat, I found the experience pleasant but unexciting: perhaps that is the point of kayaking as opposed to ocean sailing or white-water rafting, though I have experienced both of those and emerged equally unenthused. The main problem with the kayak session was the uncomfortable seating position that left me nursing a backache. That and the disproportionate kit-to-enjoyment ratio. Kayaking, however, does have the potential to be a useful way of cleaning the oceans: I picked up some floating litter en route – a wine bottle and a beer can. Incidentally, the shoes performed well, though it could be a long time before they show any signs of wear and tear.