At Her Majesty's Pleasure

On the weekend, Inge de Bruin and I did a tour of the tunnels at Fremantle Prison.

It's a terrific way to spend a couple of hours, though not if you're somewhat claustrophobic or have a fear of heights. They don't warn you about the ladder before you cough up your money. They should warn you about the ladder.

Anyway, at one point on the tour our group was paddling through some flooded tunnels, taking in all the evidence of convict life with wonder and awe. We stopped to listen to the guide tell us something fascinating. Inge de Bruin and I were in the last boat. In front of us was an English chap and his girlfriend, and the group also included his sister and a couple of other English people. When we stopped the English chap turned around to us, held his finger to his lips, indicated he was hitching our boat to his and that his boat was hitched to the boat in front of him, the occupants oblivious to the arrangement - no more paddling for us!

Inge and I laughed at what a mean joke it was to play on his sister. As we set off again and the four of us got tugged along we were positively hysterical. We wondered how long we could enjoy this free ride. To our amazement, the paddling pair didn't seem to notice and we were towed all the way to our return to the little launching jetty. Then amazement turned to utter embarrassment when the heroic paddlers got out of their boat and it wasn't the sister and a friend, as we'd assumed, it was a navy man and his son who were also on the tour.

The English guy laughed and clapped and said, "Thanks for the ride!" Inge and I stayed quiet. We felt like wide-mouthed frogs.