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Messing about

David went sailing on the weekend and had a fine time. Today, at Maggie's Farm, Bird Dog reminded me of one of my favourite books, Wind in the Willows -

"Is it so nice as all that?" asked the mole, shyly. . .

"Nice? It's the only thing," said the Water Rat Solemnly, as he leaned forward for his stroke. "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."

"Simply messing. . .about in boats - or with boats. . . In or out of 'em it doesn't matter. Nothing seems to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not."

"Look here! If you've really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing we drop down the river together and have a long day of it?"

Isn't it wonderful when the animals in children's stories show us adults what we are feeling?

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