Hacking away recently at some weeds in the garden, I chanced upon something discarded in the undergrowth: my old paddleboard.
It took me a while to get to paddleboarding. As a kid, I spent hours on those polystyrene boards, rubbing my nipples red raw. (They have been upsettingly sensitive ever since, but let’s not go there.) I tried proper surfing, but was only any good flat on my belly; I couldn’t stand up and quickly became discouraged. I tried windsurfing, but found I was either getting fed up with all the falling off, or going so fast that I was frightened to death. Also, I was too scared to go out on my own as I didn’t trust myself to rig the bloody thing properly.
