Downstream

because I can see the end and
nothing has gone wrong
except my bladder is ready to
burst. I tread water as
discreetly as possible and at
once a man in a kayak zooms
over and asks if I’m OK. ‘I’m
fine!’ I tell him. But my
daughter later says, ‘You
didn’t look like it, Mum, you
looked like you were
drowning.’
I see a digital clock face
ahead of me. It’s 11.50 a.m.