So there we were in the Scout hall, a fidgety pack of cubs sporting peaked caps and short trousers. Akela approached, clutching a wad of sponsorship forms, and asked if anyone could swim. Without hesitation my hand shot up. I could, sort of. If I held the side and pushed off onto my back, I could maintain a degree of buoyancy and propel myself in an unspecified direction. Besides, there was the tantalising prospect of adding a new badge to my burgeoning collection.
When the big day arrived, we all clambered into the minibus and set off for our aquatic adventure. To my surprise, our destination was not my local pool, where I had honed my technique to perfection, but rather the larger pool in the City. It was at this point I began to realise the folly of my exuberance; I'd never seen a pool this big.
Of course there was no backing out now, not least because we weren't the only pack in town. At the appointed hour, we all gathered poolside and with the shrill of a whistle ringing in our ears we jumped in. Within seconds it became apparent, both to me and the lifeguard, that this was not going to end well.
After being hauled unceremoniously from the water and a quick check to ensure it was only my pride that had suffered, I was banished to the changing rooms.
Unfortunately, when I began writing the analogy became all too familiar. I mean how hard can it be, I'd written umpteen reports, churned out detailed technical specifications. So I dived in.
Months later I was still spluttering, and the more I wrote the more I realised how little I knew about the craft. It was time to climb out of pool and start again.
Today, I still have some way to go, but the lesson I've learnt is that with constant practise you can only improve. Two years after my swimming escapade I attained my Gold Personal Survival certificate.
Moderator's permitting, I shall be announcing my free eBook today and if anyone is good enough to read it, please bear in mind that I know I still have some way to go.
When the big day arrived, we all clambered into the minibus and set off for our aquatic adventure. To my surprise, our destination was not my local pool, where I had honed my technique to perfection, but rather the larger pool in the City. It was at this point I began to realise the folly of my exuberance; I'd never seen a pool this big.
Of course there was no backing out now, not least because we weren't the only pack in town. At the appointed hour, we all gathered poolside and with the shrill of a whistle ringing in our ears we jumped in. Within seconds it became apparent, both to me and the lifeguard, that this was not going to end well.
After being hauled unceremoniously from the water and a quick check to ensure it was only my pride that had suffered, I was banished to the changing rooms.
Unfortunately, when I began writing the analogy became all too familiar. I mean how hard can it be, I'd written umpteen reports, churned out detailed technical specifications. So I dived in.
Months later I was still spluttering, and the more I wrote the more I realised how little I knew about the craft. It was time to climb out of pool and start again.
Today, I still have some way to go, but the lesson I've learnt is that with constant practise you can only improve. Two years after my swimming escapade I attained my Gold Personal Survival certificate.
Moderator's permitting, I shall be announcing my free eBook today and if anyone is good enough to read it, please bear in mind that I know I still have some way to go.
)
