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One of the hottest days of the year would usually see me sheltering inside eating unhealthy amounts of ice-cream.
But today I ventured out into the ungodly heat to a small village in Cambridgeshire to participate in the World Peashooting Championship.
I don't think I've ever shot a pea through a straw before, maybe as a kid, but if so I can't recall.
Luckily they had a training area and my £5 registration fee included ample peas (grown specially in Sweden apparently) to practise.
I only registered for the "traditional" competition - the "open" competition allowed custom peashooters with laser sights etc. I hadn't prepared for that (or, indeed, at all) so I just registered for the traditional. A green sticker with "trad" written on it was slapped on my breast.
Maybe it was the heat, but there was none of the raucous atmosphere of the World Conker Championship. Qualifying was subdued and orderly. I could shoot 5 peas and the sum would be my qualifying score.
I stepped forth, aimed, and puffed:
Miss, 0
Too high! I'd forgot to aim vertically as well as horizontally.
I aimed again, and got a bullseye (5), then another. Then two threes for a total score of 16 which I was told was good.
The defending champion scored 19 but I didn't pay attention to anyone else's.
Whilst I awaited the results, I browsed the other things at what was essentially a village fête. There was a barbecue tent, a beer tent, a gin tent, a few ride things for children, including zorbing. There was also a tarot reader, a masseuse and a yoga instructor - all outdoors.
Next to the field was a village hall in which were drinks, snacks and cakes for silly prices, making the barbecue look ridiculously overpriced.
There were free water stations and free sunblock was available too.
I also had a bit more practice, and was picked on by a photographer from the Cambridge Independent - will need to check later.
I was the last name on the list of qualifiers for round 2 - which took the form of a head-to-head. Alternate shooting 5 peas each. At the end of that, my adversary (Dave) and I were tied at a measley 7 points each, so we entered a shoot-off. I shot first and got my first bullseye of the round - Dave missed and I was through to the quarter finals - through luck more than anything. Surely I couldn't go any further, could I?
Of course not. For next I was up against a right sharpshooter, Richard, who beat me 15-11.
I instantly retreated to the cool village hall where I exchanged a few shiny pennies for a cup of tea and slice of a lemon drizzle cake.
I emerged again to watch the finals - preceded by two green smoke bombs which failed to drum up much more enthusiasm. 10 peas were shot this time and Richard had made it all the way. He was up against the defending champion and it was a high scoring game - both scoring above 30.
The awards ceremony was a bit of a farce with no-one really knowing what was going on. Trophies were left unawarded, wrong prizes were handed out and the photographer was frantically herding everyone for a group photo.
At the end, it took on its local fête characteristic once more as everyone was asked to help tidy up.
At that point I went to see a nearby castle instead.