Flying Plastic

Paul acquired - which is to say, bought - a frisbee recently. It's pretty expensive for that sort of thing (about a tenner, I think). This, it turns out, is because we are talking about a frisbee of a higher calibre than that typically found in seaside shops alongside bucket & spade sets, shrimp nets and really awful hats. This disc can fly.

So, naturally, we've been taking excursions to Brockwell Park to casually chuck the thing around, finding a compulsive beuty in the search for a perfect flight. Putting on just the right curve or flight time to get the frisbee to its destination is nothign to sniff at. It's seriously addictive. We've even been doing some of the fancy catches. You know, behind the back, under one leg, that sort of thing.
One major impediment to the pursuit of the elaborate catch, other than sudden gusts of wind, is Adam, who appears to think we are engaged in a competition to see who can throw the frisbee the hardest.

"But," he protests, "A hard throw is the easiest way to get it to fly straight."

Well, yes. But it's not necessarily the best way. Also, quite apart from the change in emphasis from "How shall I catch this?" to "Should I try to catch this or just dodge it?", when a speeding frisbee goes the wrong way, you have to run a fair distance to pick it up. And let us not forget the danger of braining a small child in the park with an errant fling of 'Angelina' (as Paul has been known to call her-- I mean "it").

One of the interesting things about the frisbee is that once you take one down to the park, everyone wants to play with you. Dogs, small children, you name it. All right, basically just dogs and small children. But it's still pretty cute. Until the dogs start barking at you for being too slow in making the next throw.
It's not enough to make one run in fear, mind you, which is handy because frisbeeing turns out to be rather more exhausting than you'd expect. Despite the seemingly gentle nature of passing a platic disc back and forth in the fresh air, we've all found ourselves with a variety of interesting muscular aches. The frisbee is deceptively sedate.

Except when Adam throws it at your knee.