Could barging become an Olympic sport?

Aug 22 2008 by Our Correspondent, Liverpool Daily Post

BRITAIN is doing fantastically well in the Olympic Games. The legs on the medals’ table are buckling under the weight of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Or something like that. Yawn, yawn.

It would be fair to say that my interest levels haven’t really peaked while sitting in the lounge as the television screen shows people on the other side of the world jumping, splashing and pedalling.

All accompanied by the frenzied screams of commentators who sound as though they’ve had too much blue pop with their lunch, informing me that these human movements are of such momentous importance that they are akin to splitting the atom.

I don’t think so. We can all run, can’t we? It’s just that some people can run faster and farther than others. Whereas we couldn’t all discover the theory of relativity, no matter how hard we practised or how many bowls of pasta we consumed each day.

I’ve heard we’ve done quite well at the sitting-down sports – cycling, rowing and sailing. Now that is an achievement – pitting man against the elements, be they wind, water or a bit of light drizzle in the sedentary position.

And I think I’ve discovered another possible Olympic sport involving a boat, a stretch of water and a lot of resting the rear end on a firm seat.

Having just spent my summer holiday on the Llangollen Canal, I think narrow boating could be the next big event for London 2012.

After all, we’ve got the infrastructure already there, thanks to Britain’s industrial heritage and the magnificent network of canals and waterways. A few more pubs along the way wouldn’t go amiss, but let’s not get too picky at this stage.

I couldn’t believe the skill involved in hauling a 26-tonne vessel through a seven-foot gap of rising water. I couldn’t believe because I didn’t do it. I left that stuff to my husband and sons. I was more adept at prising corks from carefully laid-down bottles and niftily popping open tubes of Pringles. Usually around four o’clock and well before the sun even caught a glimpse of the yardarm. In fact, I did it so often I got repetitive strain injury and needed the Team GB physio at certain points along my course. Never mind the locks, my wrists were bending under the strain of some pretty heavy-duty cork-screw action.

Those members of the crew who had the lesser job of steering the boat were still put through their paces on deck, moving the rudder first two inches one way, then three inches the other. It was a man’s job all right, and never once did their concentration waver.

Well, perhaps once, when son number two fell in and everyone jumped to in to save his mobile phone from drowning, but, even then, few penalty points were awarded.

The true Olympian spirit prevailed and we all emerged wetter, but noble with it.