A Eureka moment in my quest to become a Rotarian sparked a series of events that saw Malc and I "twerking" in black sludge last weekend.
The expedition that serves as a precursor to Rotarian membership had always eluded me as I could never propose an activity with the requisite degree of originality.
Until 3 weeks ago when I overheard a heated argument between two elderly gentlemen. Their bone of contention was the town of Clevedon vis a vis the body of water on which said town is situated. One insisted it was on the Bristol Channel while the other was adamant it was located on the Severn Estuary.
The conversation not having reached a satisfactory conclusion, I rushed home and consulted Wikipedia where Clevedon is defined thus: A resort on the Severn Estuary.
And then the penny dropped; if one were to consider all points west from Clevedon to Weston, there must be a precise line of demarcation between the Severn Estuary and the Bristol Channel since Weston is undoubtedly a Bristol Channel resort. Furthermore, the traversal of said boundary could be celebrated in the same manner as sailors crossing the equator and the moment immortalised in a photograph to adorn the clubhouse wall alongside those of other members in the crowning moments of their expeditions.
And so, this is the reason why Malc and I found ourselves on a desolate mudflat last weekend where, under the instructions of Lt. Col. Ashton Wickett, we removed our trousers and underpants, plastered ourselves in mud and gyrated while he snapped away furiously with his trusty old Leica.
Oddly enough, the picture hasn't made it to the clubhouse wall yet.
The expedition that serves as a precursor to Rotarian membership had always eluded me as I could never propose an activity with the requisite degree of originality.
Until 3 weeks ago when I overheard a heated argument between two elderly gentlemen. Their bone of contention was the town of Clevedon vis a vis the body of water on which said town is situated. One insisted it was on the Bristol Channel while the other was adamant it was located on the Severn Estuary.
The conversation not having reached a satisfactory conclusion, I rushed home and consulted Wikipedia where Clevedon is defined thus: A resort on the Severn Estuary.
And then the penny dropped; if one were to consider all points west from Clevedon to Weston, there must be a precise line of demarcation between the Severn Estuary and the Bristol Channel since Weston is undoubtedly a Bristol Channel resort. Furthermore, the traversal of said boundary could be celebrated in the same manner as sailors crossing the equator and the moment immortalised in a photograph to adorn the clubhouse wall alongside those of other members in the crowning moments of their expeditions.
And so, this is the reason why Malc and I found ourselves on a desolate mudflat last weekend where, under the instructions of Lt. Col. Ashton Wickett, we removed our trousers and underpants, plastered ourselves in mud and gyrated while he snapped away furiously with his trusty old Leica.
Oddly enough, the picture hasn't made it to the clubhouse wall yet.
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