Frome trip, January 15th 2005
(The following little ditty was inspired by Mr Nichols, but was written by someone who wishes to remain anonymous for fear of reprisals!)
Do I want to go paddling tomorrow? I’d much rather stay here at home.
Though it’s just passed its test,
My car’s way past its best,
And it won’t go as far as the Frome.
What is the point of canoeing? I’m getting so old I forget.
Why on earth is it done?
It’s supposed to be fun
But it just makes you cold and wet.
But then if I say I won’t go there, will it be “Oh dear poor old Quent,
When put to the test,
He’s way past his best.”
(Though such comments are most kindly meant.)
It was last week that we should have done it, the water’s been running away,
And although there’s enough,
For the weirs and such stuff,
There’s nowhere exciting to play.
There’s simply no point in canoeing, if you don’t get scared out of your wits,
Though a good river does
Give one a buzz
The old Frome trip is really the pits.
If I’d known of a Dart or a Lyn trip, I might have been ever so keen,
But in case you’ve forgot,
A computer I’ve not,
And so e-mails I’ve just never seen.
But then having had a good grumble, once I got paddling again
I went at it like mad
And a good time I had.
Though the mud at the end was a pain.
The trip of course had a good ending, ‘The George’ was really quite near,
So having eaten our grub
We went to the pub.
“Oh no, they’ve watered the beer!”