27 April 2013 Saturday) - ... Without A Paddle
I was wide awake at 7am, and with little else to do so early on a Saturday I had a go at the astro club's accounts. The credit crunch is obviously hitting - refreshments takings are regularly twenty per cent down on what they were a year ago, and the raffle is only raking in just over half of what it once was. We still have just as many club members; it's just that no one seems to have any spare cash.
With er indoors TM" out of her pit we collected Lisa and set off to Worton's wood. On Monday afternoon I spent an hour and a half working out the location of a puzzle geocache, and then in the evening Lisa and I spent an hour and a half working out that it wasn't there. I revisited my calculations and with the application of graph paper I worked out a new solution to the puzzle and we thought we'd try again. The new solution wasn't that different too the old one, but this time we found the cache after only ten minutes searching. We'll gloss over the fact that it was in a place that we'd thoroughly searched on Monday evening.
From the we moved on to Cheeseman's Green. Still geocaching; this time hiding one. We'd spotted the ideal bridge under which we could hide a cache. The rubber dingy was soon inflated and ignored the faint hissing sound I could hear. The boat was very soon in the river. I chucked myself into the boat, and once aboard wondered about steering and propulsion. I realise that it is standard nautical practice to take oars, but the entire concept of oars didn't occur to me until I was on the high seas. I managed navigation of a sort by grabbing passing trees (there was a surprisingly fast current) and managed to bring "ELF-1" to where Lisa was waiting to board. She too was rather vague about steering boats, instead choosing (like me) to trust to pot luck and idiot enthusiasm. However a combination of pot luck and idiot enthusiasm soon found us aground right under the bridge where we bought the drill into play and secured the geocache.
It was at this point that we first started to think about the vague possibility of getting out of the river. And as we cast off so a submerged rock made its presence known by making a hole in the boat. I would have laughed if the river water hadn't been so cold as my bum got wetter and wetter.
Rather amazingly we emerged from the river with with only wet bums and wet feet, and we managed to salvage the boat. We shall need that when it's time to do maintenance.
Home, where I showered the river scum off of myself and the fox poo off of Fury Face, and we had a crafty spot of lunch before going back out for an afternoon's stroll round to Singleton. We explored places we've not been before; found some new footpaths, and generally wore the dog out. We were gong to go on for a bit more of a stroll round Coldblow, but time was against us. We'll do that another time.
After a rather good bit of scoff er indoors TM" set off to film night and I prepped my phone for tomorrow's planned extravaganza before settling down in front of the telly with my dog.
It can be a tough life sometimes...