Pulling you towards the setting sun,
The paddle’s dip and plash
Creates a chain of shimmering golden rings
Behind your boat.
Look back to check how regular is your stroke,
But quickly turn forward to watch out
For hazards in your way.
An overhanging mesh of branches
Can entangle you – or worse,
Detain you while the kayak carries on;
Much worse again, do dreadful damage
To an unprotected head.

The sun slides slowly lower.
A golden chain of years pays out behind you
Stretching back to the day
You wed. Since then,
How many branches, weirs, low bridges,
Treacherous muddy banks
Have been avoided, or recovered from;
No mean achievement. But though now
You’ll ring, as you always do,
To tell your wife you’re safely off the river,
Paddling concluded, there remain
Unnavigable obstacles ahead.

Know all
About your spouse?
That’s still unlikely though
Half a century has passed since
You wed.

Could you
Have thought that you’d
Reach fifty golden years
In what now oddly seems a time
So short.

Fine daY
In North YorkshirE
For celebrating A
Total of fifty years of ouR
Yoked liveS

Cool worK
How we made A
Regular job of iT
Inching towards our fiftietH
SurelY