Don’t Drink and Raft

Don’t Drink and Raft


This isn’t where I went rafting, but it is a bed of water so it’ll have to do. I was going to take my phone down to the river to, you know, capture the experience, but then I thought that that is possibly the worst idea I have ever had. It would definitely have been another phone-in-water fiasco.

So as usual, the prospect of this great rafting trip was making me feel quite nervous. What is it about rafting down a river on a lovely, sunny day that makes me nervous, you ask? WELL. The person who asked me to go is an old friend from primary and I mean, we were great friends at primary; got on like a house on fire and all that, but when we went to secondary school that changed. Basically, she became one of the cool ones and I…well, I didn’t.


But as is also usual, my fears and anxieties were put to rest pretty quickly (after I accidentally told her I’m a bit of a stoner, which I’m really not. She’s invited me round for a gramme, or half bag, or I DON’T KNOW, something along those lines, for a wee “smokey night”. I have no idea what this entails and I’m scared I might die so I’m definitely going to come up with some sort of excuse and BACK THE HELL OUT) and we slipped right back into our old, primary relationship.

The wine definitely helped.

As for the actual rafting part…well, it’s the sort of thing that sounds really good and fun and spontaneous and exciting and adventurous, but in reality, it’s really just a lot of hard-work and grunting and falling in and banging your head on the paddles. I had no idea the river was so shallow! We were grounded pretty much 94% of the time and basically just scraped down the river. But our destination was these FEROCIOUS rapids under a big old bridge and holy moly was it exciting when we finally got there. There was a tiny island just before the rapids so we thought we’d get off there and finish the wine before trying not to drown. It was at this point that I made a tremendous error:

“God, I just HATE shoes, you know? I love being back in the country. You can just go barefoot alllll the time. Seriously, the skin on the soles of my feet is so hard that I probably don’t even need shoes!”

Buuuut, the Shoe Gods obviously overheard and were understandably a bit pissed off as two seconds later, I lost both flip flops in a quick succession and walking home barefoot on the newly gravelled road wisnae fun so I may have to retract my previous statement. Shoe Gods: 1, Josie: 0.

And from then on it was just one disaster after another; launching ourselves off our island, the dinghy ripped, I fell out and was dragged through trees, rocks, sheep wool and dirt, until I finally hit the shallows, ever so slightly bedraggled and not quite sure what had just happened.

Yep, these things are never as good as you think they’ll be, but it was pretty hilarious. I’m absolutely dreading going to work. Everyone at the shop is so upstanding, moral, and just GOOD – I think it’s actually a job requirement. We only discuss the drama that goes on in the village; we NEVER, EVER create it ourselves. I actually made that mistake once: I got very drunk at a local ceilidh, frolicked with a balloon, fell off the stage, and was carried out by a friend and the next day in the shop was bloody horrific. SO MUCH JUDGMENT. And it may be the same today since I was spotted walking home soaking wet, dirty, barefoot, and carrying a deflated dinghy by at least three people.

Oh dear.

P.s. I’m listening to Radio 2 at the minute (I know it’s awful, but I like the music) and the Jeremy Vine show is on and do you know what today’s topic of discussion is?


This show is just the worst.

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