The lure of the Rosscarbery lagoon drew Emma and her family to the inflatable activity centre, to the detriment of one (formerly) fabulous blowdry...
I LOST something in Rosscarbery lagoon last week, something I fear I’ll never get back and do you know what? I’m fine about it, in fact, I’m in the better of it. It all started when I looked at the calendar and realised that the August Bank Holiday weekend was all but upon us and a bit of holiday panic set in. I started Googling things to do, and places to see all over the country until I realised that there was more than enough to entertain us on our own doorstep which led to me booking a visit to the waterpark in the Lagoon Activity Centre last Friday afternoon.
Quite unbelievably, none of my family had been before despite driving by the spot at least a million, zillion times and declaring each time ‘that looks like great gas, we must go there.’ So we finally
did.
Now my timing wasn’t great as I’d had my hair done the day before, and anyone who knows me knows how much I love a professional blowdry. It can elevate you from looking ‘absolutely desperate’ to looking ‘quite alright, all things considering,’ so my top priority was to keep my head out of water and mind the hair. I was also pretty keen on keeping my sun glasses on which I felt was crucial to helping the ‘look’ which comprised of a shorty wetsuit, paired with a life jacket and grippy-soled ankle socks, not the easiest vibe for anyone to pull off, least of all a middle-aged woman like myself. Right, so the sunglasses weren’t allowed for the obvious reasons: they’d have been on a one way route to Davey Jones’s locker, and within a few minutes of stepping foot on the inflatable (or trying to) I had gone under… best made plans and all the rest.
I’m getting ahead of myself. The first challenge was to actually get into the RIB (Rigid Inflatable Boat) to take us from the pontoon to the inflatable park, which like most things wasn’t as easy as it looked. I was pretty shook even at that stage and figured we should have stuck with what we knew, crazy golf, but it was too late. Then on disembarking, I felt like a player in the Netflix series Squid Game (if you know, you know) as I negotiated my way around the various obstacles and yes, I was the first player to be eliminated. Woman overboard! I had presented it as a ‘fab family evening out’ to my husband and had urged him to finish work early to come along with us, which he did to be fair. But as he hauled me up out of the water over and over again, I think he had some regrets that an urgent meeting hadn’t been in the calendar. At one stage, I climbed up to what wasn’t a terribly high platform, but what might as well have been Everest to me, where I promptly froze and he literally had to talk me off the edge. Painstakingly. A man and his two kids looking on found this absolutely hilarious and in the spirit of giving I was happy to entertain. I won’t pretend however that I didn’t take some delight when the dad, who seemed to laugh at me the heartiest, took a right tumble later on. That’s karma
mister!
I have to say though that there was terrific camaraderie in the air and a real sense of ‘in it together.’ There were multiple nationalities when we visited including English and Dutch (or perhaps Danish, I’m not sure). Perched on top of another slide later on, trying to build up my courage to whizz down, a young girl encouragingly told me that it was totally fine. ‘It really is,’ said her mother kindly. I wasn’t sure though. I was going to climb back down, because at that point I had already lost that thing I mentioned at the very start – my dignity, every last bit of it!
Then my daughter shouted up from the bottom to ‘do it for Billy.’ Billy is our dog but of course no one else knew that. ‘Do it for Billy,’ the small crowd around me all implored, with their expressions. Do it for Billy? The same dog who was probably at that very moment digging a hole, uprooting a plant or gnawing at the rattan garden furniture which I’ve had for 10 years but which I fear won’t last the week; who has moved out of home to flat share with his canine pal next door and who barely gives me a second look unless I’ve food in my hand? So, mainly thanks to peer (pier?) pressure I did it. Just the once, for Billy, who, as suspected, greeted me on my return with some uprooted shrubbery.
At one stage I was wondering if there was any chance I could catch an early boat back to the mainland or hitch a ride on a pedal boat, as I feared the 45 minute session would stretch on like an eternity but it wasn’t long enough in the end. When the whistle blew to signal the time was up I was proud as punch to be still standing, but pride comes before a fall and after getting a bit cocky, I picked up speed to catch up with my family on the way back to the boat only to fall in quite spectacularly. I feared I was going to be left there forever, and images of Tom Hanks in Cast Away flashed before me (just without Wilson) but as the saying goes, ‘you never know how strong you are until you have to be’ and I mustered the upper body strength from somewhere to get back on board. Perhaps I’d have been able to do that all along, but sure it was nice for my husband to feel
needed!
So, to summarise, I’m the least adventurous person ever, and I’m afraid of almost everything, including water and heights, but getting back on dry land I felt as buzzed up as if I’d swam the channel. There might be something in that idea of pushing yourself out of your comfort zone after all, and sure, dignity is over rated. We got a takeaway pizza on the way home and had it on our favourite beach and all in all it was as near to a perfect evening out as you could get. Except for the hair (sorry, can’t let it go!)
