Armchair Paddler [44]

by Michael Culhane

Dear Editor
where is my mag?
I thought you’d have it
all in the bag

I’ve checked the mail
time and again
But I’m left with chat
and ‘Killer’s damn pen

We sent you stories,
reviews and that
With the amount of talk
It should be real ‘phat’

I need a paddle
but not on the sea
With the mag I paddle
vicariously

No current, no wind,
no surf or seas
No challenges
to bother me

I scull, I sweep
I draw and steer
From the safety of my lounge
with the telly near

Yes I’ve honed my skills
I’ve read the mag
I’ve got my roll
it’s in the bag

Lean forward, paddle straight
pull across and back
I’m an instructor for a moment
while she has a crack

“I’m a legend,” I say
as I finish on a high
With admiration, I think
my wife gives a sigh

Sure I’ve got my critics
“you need hours in the boat”
but I’ll practice on my lounge
with me paddle float

See the tides are never right
and the BOM gets it wrong
The current unpredictable
and the winds too strong

But when the BOM gets it right
just watch me mate
I’ll paddle across
bloody Bass Strait

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