Day 107 - Right on target

Ange here. My great-grandmother's surname (paternal line) was Bowman. She was Scottish, although I've traced the line back to the Scottish side of the English/Scottish borders area, so the family could have been on both sides at one time or another. As you could probably guess, the name comes from the word for an archer, although the term was also used for someone who untangled wool using the vibrating string of a bow. Given my ancestral research, the latter is probably more likely in my case!

Alex sets his sites on the prize...a chance to beat his Dad.
He won.

However, one can dream, and with the chance to discover that I have a genetic predisposition to be naturally good at some form of sport, I signed Alex, Phil and I up for a 2-hour archery lesson at Cotswold Archery. It is located at Batsford Arboretum within walking distance of our flat in Moreton in Marsh.

Ange takes aim ... but was although she found the bullseye a
few times, she was unable to find her inner archer.

After a night of near gale force winds, we awoke to brilliant sunny skies, and made the 45-minute walk to the site of our archery lesson. We were met at the gate by our instructor and host for the day, the very agreeable and knowledgeable Neil Holt. Neil made us all feel quite relaxed about trying out this sport, and the two hours went by quickly.

Neil does a steady business, but as it was January and most tourists are waiting for warmer weather, we lucked into having a private family lesson. He had set up three targets for us and was ready with starter bows and arrows. A quick safety talk, and we were soon having fun attempting to hit targets and come up with unique excuses as to why we weren't hitting more bulls-eyes (e.g., the wind kicked up, the smoke from a nearby fire was in my eyes, the arrow was crooked, the target isn't in the right spot...you get the idea).

Look at that form. Robin Hood, eat your heart out!

For the second hour, we had the chance to try five other types of bows including the type of bow used in the movie The Hunger Games and something called a Mongolian Bow. Each one gets a bit more difficult to draw back, and the excuses come faster and are increasingly ridiculous!

We had a fabulous morning out. The rest of the day was more restful...we all knew the sore arm muscles were only going to appear in a matter of time!