The Canadian goes Canoeing

Have these old Birks had it, or what?!

I went canoeing with a Duke of Edinburgh group of 14-year olds.  All preparation was going well until I threw my shoulder out doing, I think, renegade rows.  SO sore...numb arm, still can't sleep on my right side.  Oh dear.  How ever was I going to do it?  

I visited this magician (known professionally as an osteopath) and he fixed me RIGHT up.  In fact, it was this blog that helped me.  Recall how I slipped a disc in old Korea?  The osteopath asked about where the disc was located and I couldn't remember, but guess what?  I'd blogged exactly what had happened.  Self preservation at its best!

Against better judgement, I went on the trip.  I rowed/oared/canoed.  It hurt.  I survived.

We traveled from Guildford along the Wey River to the Thames, and docked over night, where we all slept in our own little tents!  Nuts.  We did the same thing the next day, but docked by the minibus and drove back to school (our school has canoes!  So exclusive).    

You'll see the portaging apparatus: yes, there was portaging. 

Bees feasting on summer lavender.  Love.

Swans in the lock (when we weren't portaging).