I return to this blog in a rare moment of peace. The truth about my new role, being editor of Cornwall Today. is that it takes a lot of time. So much time, in fact, that there's no time for anything else. Well, not much of anything else. My deal with the publishers of the magazine is that because I'm covering for the previous editor, Kirstie Newton, while she has a baby, I can keep all my other freelance work going, a fair arrangement given that when Kirstie comes back it'd not be great to venture into the freelance fray sans contacts.
However, keeping everything going means working early in the morning, before I go to Truro to work at the magazine, and in the evenings, when I get home. This would be fine, if I didn't want to have a life beyond my laptop and/or PC. But I quite like having a life, and so have been doing exciting things beyond writing and editing like watching the World Cup, trying to get fit again and, miracle of miracles, surfing.
Yes, my comeback is official. I still have a stupid left leg, one that shakes in the mornings and at certain other junctures too embarassing to mention, and sometimes I have a stupid left hand, too. And occasionally my neck feels mighty strange. But overall, six and a half months post anterior cervical discectomy and fusion, I feel pretty good (if overweight - the pounds have piled on).
This feeling was at its (relative) zenith last Saturday, when I got some nice, small waves at Gwenver. It was a beautiful day and a basking shark was swimming around at the edge of the line-up. In the water were Jonty Henshall, though he was nearer to North Rocks, and a couple of other locals whose faces I know but whose names elude me. And that was it. Mellow waist high waves were peeling left and right, and hardly anyone was in the sea. My old surfing acquaitance Dr Sarah was paddling out as I came in. We shared a similar session one evening last summer, when no one else was out, the surf was clean and the baskers were cruising. And here I was, surfing again at one of the best spots in Cornwall, each wave better than the last. My take off has suffered - it's on the slow side, to say the least - and only by the fourth wave or so did I remember that cutting back is a useful thing to do, but it was really happening: I was back, properly enjoying the sweet sensation of riding waves, one that I feared would never come my way again.
So thanks to all who urged me to keep the faith. You were right. I don't think I'll ever surf challenging stuff again - Sennen Cove the following day, at just over head high on the bigger sets, felt on the large side - but I now know I can enjoy clean waves at the 4ft to maybe 5ft range. And that'll do nicely.
There's just one problem. For perhaps the next year, I have what is known in the real world as a 'job'. It's one I'm enjoying but I suspect it's not one that'll allow a lot of room for surfing. Unless, that is, I were to theme my first issue, that for August, to surfing, and go on to introduce regular surfing coverage, something editorially justified, of course, given the importance of surfing to Cornwall. Now there's a thought...
Pictured courtesy of Jason Feast and the UK Pro Surf Tour: Johnny Fryer surfing in a fashion that proved beyond me before neck surgery, but which now should be as easy as eating a cushion. (Addendum: if my understanding is correct, the UK Pro Surf Tour crew are currently in Sri Lanka. I was invited to join them but couldn't go because of that thing I mentioned - the 'job'. Is this, I wonder, why certain people - surfers - tend to eschew the 'job'?)