I try to avoid sharp objects most of the time because shakes and cutty things aren't massively conducive to keeping all my fingers. Or other people keeping theirs.
So when my business co-founder Mel booked an afternoon of archery, axe throwing and crossbow firing for myself, her and our other co-founder Duncan during our weekend in Hastings, I put out a warning to anyone within a mile radius. Scott, our range officer at 1066 Target Sports in St Leonard's obviously didn't get the memo and greeted us with an enthusiasm that clearly showed he didn't know what he was about to get himself into.
We started with archery, which i was awful at, mainly the first bit where you load the bow. Mel looked graceful. Duncan looked epic. I looked like someone who was about to end up with an arrow through their foot.
Then we moved to axes. Less precision. Greater potential for appendage loss. Weirdly, we discovered that I could only hit the target if I let out a war cry. A phenomena I pushed to the max by trying to throw two axes at once while imaging Simon Cowell's face was in place of the wooden roundel hanging on the wall.
Then it was crossbow time. And this happened ...
I'm not sure who was more shocked. Me or Scott, who by this point, and with the introduction of an even more powerful weapon, was probably silently keying 999 into his mobile. I steadily got worse but it was satisfying to have this brief moment of glory.
Lost by a whisker.
I even got a certificate for being the best loser. And I still have all my fingers. That's what I call a successful day.