Hammocks, and the skilled art of total indolence

We had a hammock in the garden when I was a child. It was a piece of canvas the size of a small single bed, with eyelets at each end and ropes that looped through at each end and were tied to two conveniently-spaced cherry trees in the garden. 

We had a very basic military hammock  like this one

Dad bought it Army surplus in the 50s, when you could get just about anything from military over-stocks, and it provided hours of amusement in summer evenings and school holidays. 

However, it was very rudimentary: it lacked "spreader bars" at the ends with the result that the ropes gathered the ends uncomfortably tight.

As you might remember from comedy scenes in old war films, this kind of hammock presented challenges to the novice. There was a knack to climbing in and getting comfortable without just falling straight out on the other side.

The idyllic concept of the hammock 

Despite all the childhood bruises from trying to master this primitive piece of traditional furniture, I always maintained a tropical dream of a hammock slung between two palm trees, gently swinging in a warm breeze and nothing to disturb my doze apart from the songs from exotic bird-life and the gentle murmur of the sea on the shore. 

Unfortunately, it never seems to work out quite  like that, and the ubiquitous alternative has spread across beaches everywhere, in the form of the sun-bed.

Now, the sun-bed is a great improvement on the basic option of a simple rush mat or beach-towel, spread on a sandy shore, but a sun-bed shares with these the common disadvantage of being rather a long way down.  

The uncompromising combination of bulk and age makes rising from anything low-down increasingly challenging. I find that these days I take two looks at a contemporary couch or settee before sinking into it. Especially if I am about to enjoy a refreshing beer or a stimulating Scotch. I know now that I will, in a while, have to get up again, and that such a manoeuvre will be gravity-challenged, not gravity-assisted. 

Just two inflated cylinders joined with open webbing

And then, I found the answer for my search for ultimate warm-weather relaxation - a "pool-hammock." I had noticed a couple of strange pieces of equipment by the plunge-pool here, but I had no idea what they might be until Angela (who owns the River House,) explained. 

A pool-hammock is a length of plastic webbing with an inflated cylindrical section at each end. 

One "pillow" goes under your neck and the other pillow goes under your knees.

All you have to do is lie there. 

A few hand-paddles to the edge to replenish sun-cream or reach for a drink, and for the rest, it is the epitome of total relaxation.

In a normal hammock, it's your  weight that de-stabilises the thing with every little shift in your position. In a pool-hammock it's your weight that keeps everything in balance so that you can just relax and feel secure.

The down-side to this sybaritic accessory is that it becomes very difficult to engage in even the mildest level of activity. I thought about going down to the beach: I thought about getting another drink, but the pool-hammock is positively narcotic - without any damaging side-effects. 

All you need is enough puff to inflate the two air-chambers and the energy to flop into the pool. 

If I practise it enough, I think I will just about manage to master it.