Snotters tripping me, throat filled with salt and my body squeezed into a rubber suit…no I haven’t taken up the latest sexual craze.

I’m trying surfing.

Yes I know…black people don’t swim.

I can’t even blame Marian for the ability to swim – she couldn’t swim the length of herself and wouldn’t be caught dead with the sand between her toes…

But when in Rome…

And so here I am with another clichéd activity that took me out of the office and onto the shores of Muizenberg…where in fact I was shocked to find lots of small black children trying their hand at surfing.

Youth on their side they appeared to be making a better fist of it than I. But not one to be easily deterred, after a few false starts I wiped the snot off my face and attempted to stand. Up I went and all be it a little hesitantly managed to make my way into shore.

Always end on a high note, and 45 minutes after trotting gingerly into the sea I was done…a small, but successful foray into the world of surfing.

My wonderful teacher chose that moment as we walked back to get changed to inform me that he doesn’t surf that beach usually. Why I asked? It’s where all the shark attacks happen…his deadpan response.

I can’t say I enjoyed the experience, but I will try again.

Only because I don’t like to be bad at things…but maybe I will choose another beach!