King Harold taking an arrow in the eye. Peasant militiamen getting in some sneaky practice in the forest to please the King. Robin Hood. Men in tights. I’ll admit that my understanding of archery could probably have used some updating prior to this weekend.

Nonetheless, there was something about the sport that drew me in. The quiet intensity of this ancient art, the solitary focus of the archer as he hones his craft, drawing ever closer to the perfect score... all this seemed consistent with, but also a refreshing break from, the scholarly lifestyle I like to think I lead. So it was that I found myself at the University Sports Centre on Sunday morning for my first ever taste of the sport.

A doughty friend had offered to show me the ropes. I arrived to find him fully strapped up and armed to the teeth, looking ready to accompany John Rambo deep into enemy territory. Assuming the enemy is the Sheriff of Nottingham. Anyway. He (my pal, not the Sheriff of Nottingham) explained archery to me as a mixture of muscle memory, intense concentration, and health and safety. The latter is critical, as the silent power of a speeding arrow could easily be lethal if you got in the way. The basics: never step forward of the firing line unless given the all clear, and never have an arrow in your bow except at the line.

The rules are pretty simple. The classic target of black, blue, red and yellow concentric rings sits down range, and the closer to the centre you strike, the more you score. I set myself the target of landing three successive arrows - the full contents of my quiver, or rather my belt loop - on the square piece of paper that contains the actual target. This soon proved to have been rather under-selling myself, because archery is a sport of narrow margins. It becomes relatively easy to get somewhere near the target, but very hard consistently to find the centre. The wonky sight on my bow (so said my knowledgeable friend) didn’t help me, but nor did my wayward newbie’s technique. The draw and release are highly technical, requiring a precise honing and memory of repeated muscle action. It’s a sport that rewards dedicated practice.

Perhaps the best thing about the sport for the beginner is its innate quietness. The lack of noise is what I most remember; in sharp contrast to gun shooting, there is virtually none. The senior Blues archers to my right fire off shot after shot from their hi-tech bows with an almost sinister silence. More so than in other individual sports, you feel yourself competing against yourself and against the target, rather than against others. It’s curiously both an intense and a relaxing sport, and a wonderful antidote to a stressful week.