Let us read from the Dangerous Book For Boys about the important business of skimming stones.

“First of all you need to pick your stone, as flat as possible without being too thin.

“It needs some weight to carry, but if it weighs much more than an apple, you won’t get the range.

“Most beaches will have a variety of stones to choose from but if you find the perfect ‘skimmer’ in the park, hang on to it.”

Wise words indeed from the fabulous book by Conn and Hal Iggulden, which goes on to explain other significant elements in getting a rock to bounce across water such as bending the knees to keep the angle of descent around 25 degrees and, when performing the skill at lakes, to watch out for swimmers who object to having stones thrown at them.

I remember well the joy of having a good skimming stone tucked away in the pocket, in readiness for when that glassy expanse of water might present itself during my passage through boyhood.

Having a smoothed “yonnie” weighing down my lime green Free ’n’ Easy boardshorts was a pleasant load to carry. It was the same kind of feeling I get today when I have a ticket in the Lotto.

As kids in the 1970s we would go camping with Dad up the Currumbin Valley. We would find a quiet place by the stream and pitch a canvas tent, or just sleep in the station wagon.

At night we would tell ghost stories around the campfire and heat up cans of Tom Piper’s Irish Stew.

Dad would sip a cold beer straight from the tall-neck, while we favoured lemon cordial mixed with cool water from the babbling creek, out of our army canteens from Upton’s Disposals.

A fun game was to take sticks from the embers, and with ends still glowing, escape into the darkness to scribe pyrotechnic arcs and squiggles.

By day, skimming stones was a popular pursuit.

Five or six bounces was considered a good result, while the rare 10 was simply outstanding.

It was actually quite difficult to judge exactly how many skips were achieved because the interval between hops grew increasingly short the further the stone travelled from the eye, to the point where it would seemingly slide across the water for a short spell before sinking.

We always gave “two” for this bit if it wasn’t clear, in the similar tradition of always having two more deliveries to go when questioned on when your inordinately long bowling spell might end in backyard cricket.

Such loose accounting is not tolerated on the world stage. (Yes, stone skimming has a world stage.)

Officials from the Guinness Book of Records analysed slow motion film replays, painstakingly checking the concentric circles in the water made by each skip, to eventually crown 43 year old Pennsylvanian engineer Russell Byars the new world champion recently.

“Rock Bottom” Byars leapt a lump of stone 51 times across French Creek, north of Pittsburg, smashing the old mark held by Kurt “Mountain Man” Steiner by 11 skips.

An amazed Mountain Man likened his rival’s feat to breaking the four minute mile and told reporters that it was “only a matter of time.”

According to news articles, it has been a remarkable rise to prominence for Byars who only took up the sport eight years ago to win fudge in regional competitions and can now boast being the undisputed greatest skipper of stones to grace the planet.

I throw that out there for anybody who dared to dream, as I could only imagine how good it must have felt for the new champ if reaching 10 up the Currumbin Valley all those years ago was like winning Lotto.

• Footnote: I believe it is worth safeguarding against this important idle pastime “skipping” a generation which is why I will send a personally selected skimming stone to any reader who leaves their postal address in the comments box on this blog. The proviso is, you have to promise to take somebody younger than yourself to the water’s edge, notice how nice it is down there, and throw it in (the stone, not the kid).