As I look out of my window I can see precisely no evidence of swell. This is not unusual, given that I live in a village which faces due east and does not get a wave. Sometimes, however, even on a foggy day such as this one there is disquiet on the water, indicating that over on the north coast, or further down on the south coast, there will be surf. Not today. And a look at the webcams (for lo, technology is my god) reveals that precious little on the swell front is happening anywhere round here.
The lives of Aerial Attack and The Kid are markedly different. From Newcastle, where we didn't get a surf in either, they drove north, to Thurso and its environs, while I flew south, to Kernow. Since we departed, last Friday, they have scored successive days of 4-6ft offshore perfection while I have had one lumpy longboard session at Spot G. I know how they're getting on because Aerial Attack keeps sending me text messages telling me how good the surf is wherever he and The Kid pitch up. Which is good of him, you'll agree.
Meanwhile, a few weeks ago I wrote about the World Bellyboarding Championships in the Times. Check out the footage here for an event which was plainly full of stoke.
But talking of surfing waves in the prone position, my son Harry is slightly embarrassed. For the past couple of years, being a standard issue surf grom, he has derided bodyboarding and constantly told anyone who will listen (his mates at Cape Cornwall School) that it is a poor second to surfing. But recently, at Cape Cornwall's annual surf comp, Harry decided to enter both the surfing and bodyboarding categories. He won them both, which, as he recognises, places him in an awkward position: he is now, officially, both a surfer AND a bodyboarder.
For me, riding waves any old way is what counts, and so I say to Barrell Bill - bring on the evidence! (Is that an in joke? Ed.)
Pictured in Costa Rica: a bodyboarder.
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