Wetsuit

I’m just back from a lovely couple of days with my relatives in Barrow-in-Furness.

Robert told me an interesting story.

He had fairly recently started kayaking and wanted a wetsuit, but couldn’t afford one.

One day he was walking near Dunnerholme, which is near Askam in Furness, which is not near anywhere really – it’s over at least two cattle grids, which counts as Remote in my book - - - when he spotted an old lime kiln. As he peered at it, a barn owl flew out and Robert went in to have a look round. He was wondering whether the roof was supported by wood or stone (it was stone, in case you were wondering, lime kiln fans) when he noticed he was treading on something.

It was a wetsuit.

Presuming someone had – for some reason best known to themselves – dumped it there because it was ripped, he took it outside and examined it more closely.

It was full of sand, and had clearly been there for some time, but had no holes in it.

He tried it on. It fitted perfectly.

He took it home. He’s been wearing it ever since (though not all the time, obviously).

So, how did a wetsuit get into a lime kiln some way from the sea?

Robert suggested that the owl put it there. Further, he suggested to me that he’s thinking of going back to see if the owl’s put anything else there – a sea kayak, perhaps, or some paddles, or a large hoard of pieces of eight.

Nonsense, of course – how on earth could an owl carry a wetsuit?

The only possible explanation is that a man went into the lime kiln wearing a wetsuit and then turned into a barn owl and flew out again.

Strange things happen in the far north-west of England, oh yes they do.