Sunday 3rd October 5.30pm

It's not that I don't want to swim. I'm absolutely dying to, crying out to, I feel half dead without it (is that worrying?) but it's never a good sign when you can hear the sea before you see it. At West Bay there is a steep bank blocking the car park form the beach and normally it shields all hint of water from the oncoming crowd. But today as I get out of the car, a thump and a crash accompanied by a gentle spritzing of salty mist, warn me that all might not be as I hope. There's been a huge storm while I've been struggling through the urban grind for a few days – the roads are scattered with branches and relocating bits of houses – but a whispering voice had suggested that maybe, by a miracle, the sea would be calm and still. But it's not to be. Muddy waves are rearing up and the beach is completely changed by what really must have been a storm – a long, smooth expanse of sand washed clean and smooth by an immense tide. Only a few hardy children rushing in and out of the surf – two boys are having a great time daring each other to dash in and grab one of the buoys that the lifeguards used to corral swimmers in the summer. It has broken free and is cruising in the surf, coming almost to their feet before being pulled back and smashed by another wave. It gives me great pleasure to see the buoys exercising some mischievousness; they got us into trouble in May when we strayed beyond them and were humiliatingly reprimanded by a lifeguard who paddled out on his surfboard. All the witty comebacks we practised over the next months and never got a chance to use…

But for the Mascot and I it's instantly clear that there is to be no swim today. This, I'm beginning to remember, was our refrain last autumn. It's not US or the water temperature that was our downfall, but things beyond our control. The currents and sudden deep water on this stretch of coastline make foolhardiness and bravado, especially alone, nothing but insanity (not that I'm convinced by SW's lifesaving abilities but I have to admit, I have more faith in them than the mascot's). If SW were here – if it weren't so late – if it didn't look quite so muddy and terrifyingly ferocious – but in this case (and NOT every case) death by drowning isn't worth it to prove a point and we motor sadly home for lemon curd on toast. Tomorrow's another day.

MG

Postings from the North Sea: 3^rd October 2010: High tide 15:23: Brancaster 15:30

Drive through the rain to Brancaster, I tell the parking attendant I am here to swim so he kindly lets me in for £1. Score 1 for Sunday swimmers. Tide is just about to turn and I get a boot full of water in my rush to drop my stuff. I have to wade out a fair way until the water is even above my knees. The sea is colour coordinating with the sky today a smoky dull grey. I man up and dive in. Cool but not the heart stopping rush of a mountain stream. The internet tells me the sea is a toasty 15c. I feel the pull of the tide going out so don’t go out of my depth but swim parallel to the beach towards Titchwell. The sea is calm but the wind lifts the spray. I can see know one between the beach and the horizon apart from my solitary reluctant lifeguard. I backstroke to the shore. Walking out of the sea the wind is warm. High smugness rating as I talk to my woolly hated watcher before heading back for another dip. I am rewarded as the sun bursts through the cloud, changing the grey to sparkle. The tide is receding fast as we walk back to the car revealing the carbon stumps of a prehistoric forest. We leave the solitary parking attendant in his caravan, my hair stuck to my head in salty clumps sand covering everything I touch.

JJ