Have been out for about my eighth lesson tonight and can feel the change in ability from absolute beginner to hopeless novice. We went four miles on the river, in a four-man scull in a crew consisting of two novices aided and coaxed by a veteran at each end, (one stroke, one steering at bow [the steersman] the steering done by using the toe of one foot which is attached to a plate which is attached to a wire which is in turn attached to a rudder). They appeared to be enjoying themselves even though for them there must have been the element of work and mild frustration at dealing with us. The Norwich Rowing Club clubhouse is scruffy in the best possible way, and the members give up their time to help and encorage newcomers like us. It’s a nice, old-fashioned, gentlemanly attitude, where things are done properly. We didn’t look much like this, but maybe one day we will.
I can see the potential beauty in it: there is teamwork, and it is pure rhythm. There is always a part of you when you begin something new that wonders will you last, that thinks it won’t be long until you quit (except for smoking cigarettes). With this, I think I will stick at it.