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We have three now (along with a folding one) and took them all out this morning to prove that, true to its name, Enniskillen really is an island.

Aidan (11) took our first one, a simple sit-out from Lidl.

It’s a bit slow, but stable and movable, and got us started, so we’re all quite grateful, though we don’t suppose it’ll last much beyond this summer.

Rory (14) was on the Coleman we got from Amazon, described as a “Sport Kayak”.

It’s very comfortable, like a large armchair, and in my experience about as swift and manoeuvrable (the “sport” in the name referring to what you might watch on television while sitting in it) but Rory seems able to tame the beast, disappearing out of sight within minutes.

Being considerate and unselfish boys, kind to their old mother, they let me go in the new one, the Sevylor Pointer K1, which has only just arrived in the UK and is, as far as this complete novice is concerned, totally brilliant.

And M. took all three down to the lake for us on the Burley flat bed trailer

which was also on its maiden voyage and brings back happy memories of tucking Rory and Aidan, eleven years ago, into their D’Lite for the trip across the fields to nursery. We’ve still, after five moves through four countries) got the old wheels – oddly reassuring to see that they are still the same..

Went out with the boys yesterday for my first turn on (I think that’s the appropriate prepostion) the inflatable kayak. I’m sure it’s a mere rubber duck in comparison to Louise’s proper one, but it was brilliant fun, steering through the swans on the lough. We’re getting another inflatable and a folding one, so three of us can go out at the same time … watch this space.

Meanwhile Martin’s put up lots more nice red shelves in the business unit, so I can get lots of books out of the boxes they’ve been in since we moved here two years ago. Nearly all my Italian books are on the new website now, and I’m coming across lots of exciting second-hand English ones that I’d forgotten we had.

As though I hadn’t enough to read, I’ve just finished Richard Ford’s The Lay of the Land (from the library). It was still very good, and oddly comfortable to be back in Frank Bascombe’s mind, but could probably have done with a more ferocious editor. But then, that’s probably true of most of us, not least online…

With Aidan and Robbie.

RISE heart ; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise

Without delayes,

Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise

With him mayst rise :

That, as his death calcined thee to dust,

His life may make thee gold, and much more just.

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part

With all thy art.

The crosse taught all wood to resound his name

Who bore the same.

His stretched sinews taught all strings, what key

Is best to celebrate this most high day.

Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song

Pleasant and long :

Or since all music is but three parts vied,

And multiplied ;

O let thy blessed Spirit bear a part,

And make up our defects with his sweet art.

I got me flowers to straw thy way ;

I got me boughs off many a tree :

But thou wast up by break of day,

And brought’st thy sweets along with thee.

George Herbert

(Nothing more to say)

I’m reading Evelyn Underhill’s Letters at the moment, having come to her very late. I’ve been vaguely aware of her for years, of course, though not, until recently, quite sure even whether she was a She- or a He-Evelyn (as Waugh and his first wife were known). I bought this book principally because it was edited and introduced by Charles Williams, who has been an enthusiasm of mine since I was a teenager, but am now immersed in it in its own right. She was so wise and holy, but at the same time quite irreverently (about things it is permitted to be irreverent towards) funny. Writing to her fiance from, I think Siena, on the subject of crass tourists she wonders why the pictures don’t leap out of their frames to administer a swift kick…