Mam sprung a new one on me this week and announced that I'd be taking up a new extreme sport - Aqua Zorbing - in which Mu would not be participating. I was torn between appreciating some time off and wondering if I was still carrying some Christmas weight, but none the less I was excited.
The fact that this announcement came soon after I had failed at maintaining my presence inside the pushchair and made contact with the wheel during a hair-pin corner - thus creating a possible dog poo contamination scenario on my paws - was unrelated.
For those who are unfamiliar with the concept, Zorbing is you, in a life sized hamster ball, pushed down a hill.
Aqua Zorbing is you & this same life sized hamster ball filled with water and pushed down a hill.
Now I understand this may sound like some kind of punishment, and, while I can't confirm or deny it's origins from Guantanamo, as it is something you pay money for the privilege of experiencing, I think that puts it as least one step back from Chinese Water Torture, but perhaps one step ahead of Aqua-Robics.
What Mam had failed to mention was that I would not be in the Zorb alone, she also failed to mention that this was a home-made Aqua Zorbing experience, which does call into question where my particular experience of this sport lies on the aforementioned Sport-to-Torture Scale.
What followed was me, surrounded by clothes, soap suds and, yes, water, in what I can only describe as 30 minutes of vigorous thrashing, wrestling thin air and generally fighting for my life - so in many ways not unlike Aqua-Robics...
To say it was the worst 30 minutes of my life would be an exaggeration. To say I enjoyed it would be a lie. To say I won't be partaking in this activity again is, apparently, not an option...
The experience as a whole left me clinging to Mu's dribble bib like Jack in Titanic and for the first time in my life seriously considering those Slim Fast Shakes...
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