That perfect skim, where the stone glides, felt fantastic – and still does
I’ve been skimming stones for as long as I can remember. Growing up in Abergavenny, south Wales, there was no open water but Mum and Dad had a sailing boat in Cornwall, where we spent school holidays.
I was four when Dad first showed me how to make stones skip across water. I’d pass hours on pebbly beaches with my brother, picking up muddy stones and skimming them. It was satisfying making them dance on the surface. That perfect skim, where the stone glides, felt fantastic – and still does. The farther it went, the better.
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