"Ok raise your arm to shoulder height with your palm facing the floor and hold it there"
Hang on..... I've been painting, my shoulder is stiff, "hold it there" are you mad?
But, it is ok and I manage to master the holding of the bow.
"Now pull back the string until your finger touches the corner of your mouth,
keeping your elbow high"
Oh....my......God......that's bloody hard.........
"Now let go"
The arrow hits the target with a satisfying "thwunk"
Oh, I got this.
Two hours later we have had to change the rules of a competition as none of us can aim precisely, although we can all manage to hit the target. We have laughed, picked arrows up from the target and several out of the ground. No-one has been injured.
Grant has been polite.... "Nice shot"
And not so polite..... "Hmmm, that was a bit s**t" (he was right it was).
We have had a brilliant morning and by the end of it my arm and shoulder have eased out and I am buzzing with the joy of the few that I got right in the centre of the target.
It is only driving home that I realise that the end of my middle finger is completely numb. I must have twanged it with the string so many times. Three days later and the feeling is just about returning. Who cares, it was totally worth it.
When I mention it to my husband he points out that in the years prior to the battle of Agincourt every man and boy had to practice with a bow shooting arrows for a minimum 2 hours a day. He asks how I would have coped.
I reply by sticking two fingers up at him.