Sitting in the sun on my patio with the (just fed) dogs lolling about my feet and Lagertha the Lawn Queen chuntering back and forth like a slow one-man Benny Hill chase, doing the dirty work of mowing.

I repeatedly, unwittingly remind myself how lucky I am living in this little pocket of paradise in Moray.

Today’s adventure was an introduction to river kayaking by a group of Sunday Paddlers who I linked up with on Facebook and who welcomed me as a novice without any hesitation.

I turned up at the allotted time and Dave – a delightful Yorkshireman who relocated many years ago to this lovely part of the world – looked askance at me and said – ”Ah! With a name like Sandy, I thought you were the 6 foot bloke in your profile picture! Wasn’t expecting the 5’4” woman!”

Despite the fact that he had readied all the kit for someone of completely different proportions, he picked out another of his many kayaks and furtled in the back of his van, digging out a wetsuit, spray skirt, helmet, jacket and life vest for me to try.

I tell you – fancy and expensive body shapewear doesn’t hold a candle to a slightly too tight wetsuit.

As I finally heaved the zip to a close I managed to obtain the magnificent cleavage I have always longed for.

Once I’d got myself kitted out, we put in at Knockando and spent a lovely few hours paddling along the Spey, through areas of still calm and small lively rapids. Once I had got used to the blunt ended and very spinny river kayak (which is totally different from the sea kayaks I am used to) and stopped going in circles, it was pretty manageable and I was able to negotiate the bumpy bits with a modicum of elegance.

We stopped for our packed lunches at a riverside Bothy and then set off again, finishing up paddling under the magnificent cast iron bridge and hauling out at Craigellachie.

There were six of us in all ranging from (I’m guessing) 25-60 ish in age, two in traditional canoes, all great fun and non-competitive, just happy to be pootling along spotting the wildlife and shooting the breeze.

I counted 11 heron, endless songbirds and one (very odiferous) dead sheep on a rock in the middle of the river.

I’ll be back with them next week when apparently we are going to do a different bit of river and go through a bit called “The washing machine”.

Eek.