ACCORDING to one of this country’s most famous literary characters, “There is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats”.

Far be it from me to disagree with Ratty, the loveable water vole from “The Wind in the Willows”, but at 8.45am on a bitterly cold and rainy Sunday morning in Swindon, I find myself thinking just the opposite.

I’m due to join the town’s rowing club for a training session at Coate Water, and with the weather in a foul mood, the prospect of attempting to control a narrow, lengthy craft with two enormous oars, seems less than desirable.

But I’m filled with a certain amount of hope when I arrive at the club’s compound to meet the jovial dozen who attend every weekend. I’m assured by several people that my primary concern, falling in, won’t happen.

And I’m pleasantly surprised when I get out on the water. Attached to a piece of rope from the side that prevents me from drifting away, I realise that with the oars laid flat on the water, it is nigh-on impossible to lose balance.

I attempt to dip the oars in and pull at the same time. It’s no easy task considering their weight, but I soon discover that when performed correctly, it is rather satisfying.

Matters are complicated by the added dimension of using the seat properly. Rowing, it turns out, is barely about the arms at all, as most of the power is generated by the legs.

I hunch forward, drive back, and the boat whizzes along the water. I do it again and pick up further speed.

After several more goes, including learn to twist the oars correctly when they are out of the water, I feel confident enough to come off the leash.

Chaperoned by my teacher for the day, Paul, a patient man of advanced years, I head off down the lake.

Over the space of the next 20 minutes I eat up well over a kilometre and find myself beginning to see the appeal of the sport - the water is quiet, the environment is pleasant and cutting through it all at speed is something of a thrill.

On the way back, although approaching hypothermia, I am reluctant to come off the water.

My newly-found enthusiasm for the sport is shared by club captain Bryan Hanlon, who I collar for a chat after the session.

Bryan, who is 53 and started the club himself in the mid-90s, said: “It’s basically a heart and lung thing for me, I just love being out on the water in that environment.

“Lots of people jog and I’ve tried all that stuff, but I don’t like pounding the roads.

“Rowing is one of the very few power endurance sports, and any weight-supporting exercise that uses your whole body has to be a good thing.

“With every stroke you engage every major muscle group in your body.”

Bryan has hit the nail on the head. I am exhausted. But at least a miserable autumn morning has not prevented me from discovering the pleasure of a sport that I had previously dismissed.