Don't you know who I am?

In August we are spending a week with good friends on the coast of France near Bordeaux.  One of these friends is older and some are the same age as I am.  They are outdoor people.  They go horseback riding, play tennis, sail catamarans, windsurf, go camping and cycling.  They do all these things on holiday and said they are looking forward to Ralph and me doing these things with them.  OMG!  Don't they know me by now.  I have known them for over 35 years and in all that time I have never played tennis, gone cycling and, god forbid, sailed a catamaran.  As a matter of fact when I mentioned the thought of me on a catamaran to a friend of mine he said the two images, me and the catamaran, immediately jumped apart.  I agree.

These delightful friends of ours are not Jewish.  I have often said this and jokingly, say it again, I come from a long line of urban people.  My ancestors were city dwellers.  We learned to think on our feet and survive in the rat race of ghettos and city environments.  i get edgy in the country.  I see shadows and menace behind every tree.  Every rustle of branches or breaking of twigs is a harbinger of danger.  I even lie in bed of a summer's morning listening to the sweet birdsong at 4am and want to strangle the birds.  I have never had pets more demanding of physical exercise than fish, and even then, I would forget to feed them.

Many years ago I went up to Scotland to a community called Findhorn.  Findhorn is in the Scottish Highlands and is a beautiful, magical place.  I stayed there for a week and participated in their residential experience week.  As part of the week's activities they take you to the forest on the Findhorn River and you spend an afternoon on your own in the woods.  Oy, I thought I would die of anxiety.   I was so nervous in the dark and damp woods.  Every tree, every dark space held scary unpredictability.  I recognised at some point how ridiculous this was and finally was able to relax and enjoy the both the wildness and the tranquility of nature.  I loved the fast, rushing water of the river and sat there for ages just watching the water crashing over the rocks.

I realised then that I was less frightened in the streets of New York and London than I was that day in the woods.  Muggers, vandals, rogues I could deal with, things that creep around in the undergrowth, now that was something else! How bizarre.

It was clear to me and it's still the same, that something in me goes very quiet and very happy near water.  I'm pleased that I'll be in France right on the Atlantic coast.  I love the ocean and can beachcomb or sit and look at the sea forever.  As for water sports, well the two words don't match for me.  Water you drink, you can watch and you can mix with whisky, but never with sports.

Wish me luck on the bikes.  I'm bringing lots of rescue remedy and plenty of plasters.