On Christmas Eve a 40ft Sperm Whale washed up on the Old Hunstanton Beach. Unfortunately it was already dead and starting to decompose. In fact it may have been dead in the water some time as a corpse was spotted by the RAF target ranges on the other side of the Wash. The authorities plan to leave it to the tide to wash away the body. Apparently this is the first time in 60 years that a Whale has washed up here.
The picture was taken by a friend on Christmas Eve.
J.J.
Well, I can't deny it, I've failed dismally. The day is soon going to come when I've gone two months without a swim and I am ashamed and horrified by myself. I have REALLY tried; I went to the beach twice last week with two different willing companions and both times the waves were crashing and swirling in a frenzied muddy mess and a gale was blowing along the beach. Both times we retired gratefully to The Hive for hot chocolate. I blame KH and the failed November swim for this.
I'm sorry, but this isn't the end. Given the right conditions I'll be back in and so, I think, will KH, who I believe joined in the Boxing Day plunge at West Bay. Congrats to SW for stirling effort all along the South coast.
Watch this space and a happy new year to all our swimming friends!
An early morning mid-winter solstice swim (apparently its a 'leap solstice' this year). The sea was grey and dull looking but it was calm and there was some blue sky with sunlight breaking through. Amazingly I still have not resorted to boots or gloves, guess its still much less cold than this time last year. A short but euphoric swim.
Stormy weather has kept us out of the sea for weeks. When it's been calm enough for me to swim in Brighton I have either been in school or it's been dark. Night swimming in December not that inviting (I did try twice but chickened out!). And wild Dorset has been out of the question. Waking up to a calm-ish, sunny-ish sunday in Brighton was just too good an opportunity to miss. A quick run then straight to beach. Gently wavy grey water, lots of bobbing gulls, tides of dead starfish brought in by the storms but not a single person.
Even the promenade was quiet as it was half covered in beach shingle - a sign of how rough it's been.
I have learnt to change and get in quick - less thinking time the better. It was cold but not freezing. I was worried it would be hard after such a long break but I dived in after less than 30 seconds of cormoranting and was away. So good to be in the salty water again. I could feel the old euphoria almost instantly.
I kept it short, I have gone a bit soft these past dry few weeks. After five minutes I was starting to cool down so swam back and clambered over the shingle. So happy to be able to swim again!
Leaving Dorset on Sunday morning the weather was perfect but the sea far too rough to swim. Resigning myself to another dry day I headed to Brighton. Three hours later the sun was still shining and I could see only tiny waves. France has brought us many great things (croissants, republican revolution, louise attaque to name three) but today the greatest thing, that I was most grateful for, was her sheltering power against the atlantic.
By the time I made it out for a run/swim combo it was already getting dark although the promenade was thronged with people enjoying a mild autumn evening. Finishing my run near the Hove border I dithered for a few minutes - so many people about to potentially see me chicken out.. I needn't have worried. The water was almost obscenely un-cold and I could dive straight in without a shiver, (official temp 13deg, this time last year it was under 10 degrees - in fact its a year to the day since our snow swim)
The water smelled unsettlingly of diesel but it still felt amazing. A crescent moon, a few stars and the lights of Brighton town and pier in the distance, floating in warm-ish, calm water, knowing it was only a few days shy of December. Bliss.
Getting changed and still not shivering. A passing dog seemed intrigued by my stupidity and stared at me until its owner called it away. It stayed still long enough to liven up my photo.
... of swimming in films (see Gary Oldman, below) we've got this to look forward to...
Michelle Willams as Marilyn Monroe, swimming in a British Lake in October...
"We worried for weeks beforehand because it can be freezing cold in October," says cinematographer Ben Smithard. "It was an absolute nightmare." When Parfitt saw a break in the English weather, they rushed to the location, where they had to do more 30 shots in four hours. "It was pretty scary," says Smithard. "We dressed the edge of the water so they could get in and out and wouldn't drown." But there was no time to set up lighting for each shot, so they did most of the shoot in natural light, constantly worrying that they were losing their illumination. "It was a horribly messy freezing rush," says Williams, "and it was supposed to be a beautiful summer day. Sometimes half of acting is ignoring the elements." The health and safety supervisor told Curtis the actors could only be in the icy water for 70 seconds at a time. Tents and oxygen tanks stood by. "I'm a director who admires actors," says Curtis, "but I've never admired actors so much as those two going into that water."Williams can't remember ever being that cold. "I'm pretty hearty; I'm from Montana. But that one … I just couldn't bounce back from it. I couldn't get my blood warm. I was frozen to the core." At one point, her teeth were chattering, so they had Williams bite on a washcloth. "I thought I was going to break a tooth," she recalls.
West Midlands' answer to the sea comes in the form of Great Malvern Spa. On alighting from the train we encounter the Malvern hills. It's a beautiful sunny day and they appear majestic in the sunlight.We make our way down Malvern high street (not quite so majestic). My google map informs me that we have a 20 minute walk to our destination and although it seems circuitous, short cuts are fruitless and we arrive slightly harassed at a beautiful white building inauspiciously and puzzlingly located in the middle of an industrial estate.
Inside all is calm and I feel immediately peaceful. We are shown to our changing rooms, and once in our robes, feel completely anonymous and immersed like the other robed spa goers into the tranquil cocoon. The pool is impressive, with an outdoor and indoor area, and treatment rooms boast two saunas, steam room, salt room and two experience showers. MG insists in strident manner that we do everything in "the proper order" as outlined by the manual. Feel that this is slightly contrary to spa atmosphere but feel I will humour her, as futile to argue in spa environment.
All rooms are well functioning and very well looked after and clean, and I'm filled with high hopes for the pool when MG deems fit, and it doesn't disappoint. It's wonderfully pleasant to swim in the perfectly warm pool in the afternoon sunshine.
We decide a massage and facial are just whats called for, and after a relaxing cup of tea by the pool we head to our respective treatment rooms. I've now been wearing the robe for so long I don't know how I ever managed without it, and when instructed, I find it no trouble to lie on the heated bed and be massaged with essential oils. The therapists are really excellent. After rudimentary questions regarding preferences for essential oils they remain silent, and I can feel all the stresses and strains of life falling away. After, MG and I meet in the relaxation room, where we lie cocooned on beds watching the sea on a giant screen. It reminds me that spring will come after winter, and "next year I'll like spring just for spring, as the thrushes do" (see Charlottte Mew, ed).
Feel utterly bliss and we both agree that we are entirely subsumed by calm, zen like feelings of positivity and light. We go everywhere very slowly and carefully, needing only our robes and exuding essential oils everywhere we tread.
With Blackberry and iPhone cast aside no emails can intrude. We speak only in soft voices and everyone is most courteous and polite to each other. Wonder if they might let me live here? MG thinks possibly not (she has now become so relaxed that she has gone full circle and become stressed), but it's a thought. Back out into the cold night, greasy but well rested and content. A definite tonic for both.
Ed - the highlight for me was psyching myself up for the "icy drench" - warnings in the manual it was only for the VERY BRAVE only to discover on drench that it was in fact probably warmer than the sea gets in August, at 15-20 degrees, which gave me a very superior feeling. Four days later RL and I are still floating on a zen like cloud of peace and calm and all is aligned in the way of hope. Or something. MG
Another grey but still and warm day. Its been a better than average autumn swim season so far. However the waves on the beach were bigger than expected. The long roller types with strong pullback. This makes us all cautious and KH sensibly decides to sit this one out. A and I however run in like true addicts. The water is grey and churned but only cool, not bad for mid November. As always the euphoria of being in the water and the views outweigh everything.
As we are coming back to shore I see the smartly dressed MG arrive straight from work - and horror of horrors, joins KH sitting on the beach! After trying to get out of the sea I could see she was being wise. The pullback was strongest I have known for a while and I had to run out after a wave and get up the beach before the following wave arrived. Not that difficult but a good reminder to be careful round here. A seemed to have no problems however so maybe I was being a bit paranoid?
A quick change and barely even a shiver. Long may this mild weather continue!
Am cold, in the car, with all my clothes on. Dull and cloudy at Burton Bradstock although the majestic cliffs impress in any weather. There's been a frost overnight and the beach is deserted, except for solitary woman who stares in disbelief as we remove our clothes and reveal beach wear more suited to July. We reminisce fondly about our last summer swim together whilst I eye the sea with distrust, although I point out that 'at least the beach is quiet' (I think your words were...."it's not exactly August is it?" Ed) MG is kind and agrees fervently that this is definitely a good sign. Decide to go in with least amount of prevarication, partly because pebbles are like chips of ice! MG unwillingly remains on beach to procure photographic evidence.
(I like this as it is unclear what you are doing or why you are doing it! Ed)
Fortunately beach at Burton shelves steeply so once in up to one's knees, full immersion is almost inevitable progression from the shore. We swim. Feels very, very cold initially, but soon warms up (!!!). Am defeated before MG who's acclimatisation to temperature is admirable. SW would be proud. Retire to beach to change and both rediscover that tights on the beach are not conducive to ease of beach changing. Tea back in the car warms us considerably and we head to The Bull for bacon sandwiches.
I am sufficiently bold to broach a re swim. But think I may give into wetsuit next time.
Note from MG: extremley nice to have the company of RL who was quite astonishingly brave and savoured her blue fingers with the relish usually reserved for SW. Also, she brings the most delicious tea known to man. I'd like it if she and her sense of humour would move to Dorset forever. As long as she doesn't get a wetsuit. And in other news, not going to do this every time, but check out last year's amazing 7th November (especially you JJ!) 7th Nov 2010
MG, text. Fantastic photo of Burton beach masquerading as an island, SW
8.45am. Stumbling back into my room from brushing my teeth I see my phone flashing an answerphone message. "Join us for a swim?" ring out KH's dulcet tones. The day is utterly perfect; golden oaks and clotted cream, which is how this time of year feels in Dorset. But alas! I'm working this morning and much as I want to swim, turning up blue lipped, shivering and bedraggled isn't my ideal look in front of the ex- British Ambassador to Moscow. "No no no" I say to KH, giving my reasons "Gosh…. That's very firm of you…" she says, sounding astonished, knowing how usually I will esquew all responsibilities, friendships, trains, meals, sanity in favour of a swim. The resolve lasts two minutes. By the time I have drawn the curtains and put on my shoes I've given in and am racing to the car, grabbing my bikini, texting KH and SW enroute. I arrive at the beach and see three bobbing heads in the flat turquoise expanse and head towards them at a brisk trot, only detained by Percy's ecstatic welcome. KH later memorably tells me that he never forgets a face. I'm changed and in head spinningly fast. As I splash out to join KH, L and A, the familiar throb across my collar bone and in my upper arms, as well as the brain freeze, is a friendly welcome and I emit a few soprano yelps. But it's easy really, and the company, warm sun and ideal conditions make it a joy.
I slowly swim out and look back to see SW following in my footsteps of ten minutes before and racing along the beach, tripping over Percy. He's made it from bed to beach in twenty minutes, which is impressive for anyone, especially him (some trouble with early mornings…). The others are exiting the water, striding up the beach looking incredibly strong and beautiful and I think again how this swimming is just the most brilliant thing in every way. I swim in as SW swims out and we pass to exchange some niceties about the conditions. I'm wary of getting cold and having been in for ages (15 mins maybe?), I know it's time to get out, though I really feel I could stay in for hours. KH etc are pulling on enviable layers of wool and cashmere – A brilliantly is putting on a boiler suit, which sounds mad but is actually inspired (why didn't we think of this before? When we were having our endless baby-gro conversations maybe? I'm heading straight to Mole Valley Farmers) and depart briskly, all feeling a tiny bit chilled. SW reappears, enlivened by his swim, and we gossip as I rather miserably pull on my TIGHTS (torture - and even worse, filled with sand for the rest of the day) and inadequate fancy clothes for work. In fact though I'm not even vaguely cold, just buoyed up and exuberant (though this does give way to a slow burn chill within about 10 minutes). I leave SW revolving as he takes his amazing panoramic photo of the beach, and stride towards my car. Then, in an alcove of the cliff, I see… people taking off their clothes and pulling on swimming costumes! "Have you been swimming?" they call, and – here they are – the Winter swimmers of Burton Bradstock of whom we'd heard tell but never met, possibly because a) we rarely swam at Burton last year and b) this early morning swimming is a new thing for us and I suspect the truly dedicated always swim first thing…. Anyway, here they are; three serious, hardy winter swimmers who have swum through the winter for the past five years. There is so much to share, and if I could stop my teeth chattering long enough to feign authority, I would share away. As it is, I can only exchange a few statistics, but I'm sure we are all going to collide again over the next few weeks. This feels very exciting!
I start as I see the time on my car clock and turn on my phone. "Umm, MG?" says the voice of the Ex-British Ambassador to Moscow on my answerphone "where are you?!". Diplomatically, an error, but winter swimming? Always worth it.
Poor form from the Dorset contigents - but not for want of trying: I committed the cardinal sin of changing and prancing before bailing, to my shame, rage and the glee of the gathered crowd. The sea has just got too tempestuous in the winds of the last week, and though I'm well aware it's been a horribly long time since my last swim, I'm not ready to die to save my honour quite yet.
...And SW and I had a walk on the beach yesterday during which we very, very nearly lost the most precious of our canine companions, the Hairy Aunt, to a monster wave. And then we got so drenched in a monsoon that we had the DELICIOUS spiced chai latte (yummy) SW had brought, standing in the rain admiring the double rainbow. We are getting all the benefits of swimming without actually swimming (freezing cold, soaking wet, banter and hot drinks). But the water is still warm - SW reports it has got warmer since our last swim - so I'm not yet panicing about a total winter fail.
Meanwhile, on the wider swimming theme, I like these book covers.
ps interestingly (!!) SW, yesterday's walk was the same day as the legendary swim last year when we nearly died so it would have been ironic if we HAD died.
MG
pps from SW - That drink can only be described as yummy after a freezing swim or a good rain lashing... Under 'normal' conditions its just weird and claggy. My photos do not do the weather or the sea justice from our walk. It was the roughest sea I have seen in ages and despite not swimming I still had to change my clothes and have a bath when I got home!
Current favourite quote; Gary Oldman on swimming in the Hampstead Ponds in current cinematic beauty Tinker Tailer.... “It was deathly cold, but I couldn’t complain because there were these 80-year-old geezers swimming beside me. I couldn’t say ‘God, I’m cold’. It actually took me a whole day to warm up. I will never forget Hampstead Ponds.”
A perfect swimming day and a perfect swim - calm, clear, sunny. Although it was only 10deg in the shade (and 12 deg in the house..) it felt so warm on the beach it was like it was still summer. The sea being flat calm was extra inviting and we were in after only minimal whimpering and complaining (our initial reticence was noticed by some dog walkers - wearing satisfyingly big coats - who gave us some verbal encouragement).
The sea had cleared since yesterday and we swam out past the pier, marvelling as always at the view back to the cliffs. Now that the temperatures are dropping we thought that this might be our last long, calm, sunny swim of the year so we made the most of it and swam out further and for longer than we would normally. Even after much brain freeze from all our diving and swimming under water it was impossible to get out. We stayed in a bit too long and even returned for multiple dips but the heat of the sun helped to reduce our shivering to dress-able levels.
Twelve hours later I got a text from MG who was still feeling cold - despite now being in a warm, modern flat. I was still freezing too but was blaming my lack of heating and scrooge like resistance to lighting a fire. Maybe a shorter swim next time...
I have been away for a week and the temperature seems to have dropped dramatically. After much catching up we both headed rather tentatively towards the sea. The small grey waves were offset by the amazing blue sky and warm sun.
The water definitely felt cooler. Still lovely but with a bit of bite now. After 10 mins I was all for getting out but luckily MG encouraged me to stick at it and we spent another 10 minutes diving and swimming. As our temperature dropped we noticed the now freezing seeming wind and it started to feel much warmer under the water than above it. Eventually we had to get out and shivered our way back into our clothes and our waiting car heaters.
Late evening swim at low tide. I met a friend, AL, who is a keen swimmer but today was suffering with a cold and a dodgy knee and so stayed dry (apart from her feet and shoes which got soaked by a freak wave).
The sun was just coming out after a day of heavy cloud creating a beautiful erie light. At low tide the seabed is flat and sandy, great for long rolling waves but too shallow for good swimming unless you go a long way out - and then you would be at the mercy of the lightening fast wind surfers. Staying in the safer shallows it was great fun and invigorating playing in the waves, the perfect antidote to a day in a hot, stuffy classroom.
After a stuffy day at work the absolute bliss of an evening swim, the beach is deserted the incoming tide slowly covering up the foot, hoof and paw prints zigzagging across the shore . With not even the tiniest hint of swell the water is mill pond flat flocks of birds swooping over the surface of the water. The sea is cool with slightest hint of evening chill. I float around first looking east into the night and then west into the red haze left after the sun has dipped below the horizon. Getting out and standing in the balmy night air it seems inconceivable that M.G. and I were only a few weeks ago standing shivering on chilly Yorkshire river banks inconceivable and grossly unfair but that's the joy of a British weather for you. After another dip vainly waiting to see the first star of the evening I get out to dress only to discover that the sand bank we swim off is cut off from the shore by an extremely high tide. We wade back through the water covering the small bit of marsh, feet alternately sinking into silty mud or crunching Samphire under foot.
I manage another swim on Friday after a long hotter day of frayed tempers and slammed doors which is cooling and calming the pictures all look exactly the same as for Wednesday so I wont bore you with more flat seas and red sunsets.
We used to visit a ford in the River Nar at West Acre when we were children, perfect for paddling with lots of lovely grassy shady banks for lolling around post lunch. A friend had said that in various places it was deep enough to swim so we packed a picnic and went off exploring. The ford was full of children exactly the same as twenty years ago, we left the screams, shouts and barks headed off down the foot path which is part of the Nar Valley way. After various false starts, climbing over a fallen tree, through a hedge and some barbed wire. We found a secluded spot, off the path in full sun and deep enough for dipping. The water levels are not as high as they would normally be as Norfolk is in drought. We dipped and then baked a bit in the sun and dipped again surrounded by masses of water cress and further down stream some curious cattle cooling their hooves.
Heatwave, hottest day in October ever recorded - brilliant swimming, poor blogging. I rushed home on Friday night after three sweltering days in London, and toppled immediately into the sea with SW on Saturday morning. Strangely disappointing as SW had warned - he'd had a few days of impossible condiditons; waves and scum, despite the perfect external conditions. My support team said it was something to do with the new moon and the equinox (?! For reasons I have never fathomed, she seems to know all sorts of interesting and useful things like that) but whatever the causes, the Saturday sea was soupy and murky. Then we were nearly turned into shark-fin soup by a boat full of fishermen. Very unpleasant all round, but a swim none the less, and a high standard of banter involving a long and fascinating story about my breakfast. Not to be put off, I got in an evening swim that was pretty perfect - far better conditions and in the fading light the scum and murk were less noticeable. And the happy beach obscured by a fug of barbeque smoke at 7pm on a Saturday in October was an extraordinary but cockle-warming sight. Nowhere I'd rather be. Sunday morning found the whole team together; almost perfect conditions (though still murky) and a long, brilliant swim. Breakfast at The Hive was planned but rendered impossible by a queue almost out of the door by 10am. It was a foretaste of what was to come; snatching an hour at lunchtime I could barely squeeze my car into the carpark; there must have been 200 cars there. But the sea offered the peace and stillness as always and swimming 15 times further out than anyone else, I could look back at the beach and marvel at the wonders of the weather: no one does a heat wave like the British seaside, and this feels like the closing of the bracket opened in the April paradisical conditions.
We saw something in the water. SW was making the advance party ahead of KH and I, but by a miracle as I watched him prancing we both saw something HUGE leap out of the water about a foot in front of him. SW leapt almost as high in surprise and consternation. It could have been this:
After a beautiful and long swim at Hive in the morning we decided to re-group in the evening if the weather was still fine - we dont know how long this good weather will last before the winter storms start seriously curtailing our swimming so we want to pack as many in as we can, while we can.
A calm, clear evening followed - we met at west bay just after 7pm and the light was fading fast. It was ideal timing, the beach being virtually deserted and the sea was calmer and clearer than the mornings rather choppy murk. Familiar scenes were re-cast in the fading light with the last of the sun creating golden reflections on the water. We watched as lights appeared in the sky to our east (Portland) and the red and green of the pier flashed to our west. By the time we were getting out it was almost dark. The normally white foam from the breaking waves had turned to a tarnished silver and the water was an inky blue. We could not resist diving in a few more times as the wind had got up and it was freezing on land. By the time we were dry and had stopped shivering it was almost too dark to take any pictures. Heaven.
Just to cheer up SW and I; we reminisced about our pearl diving days as we were battered and tossed by a grey scummy sea this morning (actually much nicer than it sounds.... especially the deserted beach, what a joy to have it back to us again).
It's a grey and windy day as JJ and I are united at Stoke railway station to begin our annual pilgrimage to somewhere watery. Our holidays originally began as walking jaunts – in the distant days of yore we covered around 80 miles of Hadrian's Wall – but as the years have passed, the walking has given way to the swimming, until this year the furthest we walk is probably from the car to the tent and since I am prone to parking the car almost inside the tent, this is not far at all. Still we make up for it in SWIMS, brave, fearless and intrepid as always…
Our first stop is in Derbyshire where we are in such haste to get to the water that I get a speeding fine. We head towards a spot highlighted by Daniel Start on the river Dove, below beautiful arching Mapleton bridge. We are incredibly brave, tearing off our clothes in a howling gale and throwing ourselves into the icy murk. I'm taken aback by the cold and the brain freeze, but it's an amazing spot and we are full of self congratulation for starting the holiday as we mean to go on.
Once in Yorkshire though, things take a bit of a down turn as swim spot after swim spot reveals itself to be a roaring, raging torrent of death after unbelievably heavy rains and tempests, even, some might say, hurricanes….
(Catrigg Force)
(Stainforth Force)
(Askrigg Falls)
JJ is not to be entirely defeated by CatriggFalls on day two, throwing herself into a narrow channel of water above the waterfalls just to claim that she has swum. It's a plunge pool approach, but no less brave for that. I keep a beady eye on a gaggle of walkers on the hillside who are staring open mouthed. We fortify ourselves with cheese and jam sandwiches and resolve to come back in more seasonable climes….
Day Four brings us Hawes Force, an incredible swim below Britain's longest free falling waterfall (or something); famous for this, but for us more celebrated as the site of Kevin Costner's shower in the 1995 classic "Robin Hood; Prince of Thieves". KC clearly disregarding the many signs warning us NOT TO STEP BEHIND THE WATERFALL (in fact in these conditions, I think the cascade would literally knock your head off).We have to choose our moment between groups of gawkers, but when a second of solitude comes, I'm in the water like a flash of lightening. It's utterly terrifying with the roar of water so loud we can't hear each other and black water below us to unfathomable depths. I swim about squawking before braving the underwater which takes the edge off my fear. It's AMAZING, an incredible place. We are exhilarated and breathless and the ringing in our ears continues for some hours.
A post breakfast outing on Day Five - we take a dip below the bridge into Hawes, which is disappointingly shallow, but a swim all the same and then motor happily on over the dales, by now in full holiday mode.
The end of the day brings us our most perfect swim, another cracker from Daniel Start and an incredible campsite in Burnsall to go with it, 10 minutes walk from the river. We wander down to the river Wharfe which is lying wide, still and unbelievably beautiful, with even a little sandy bay to make getting in easy. It could not be a better spot. We plunge in and swim about for what seems like hours.
The next morning we make another pilgrimage here; we're both thrilled to see a kingfisher in a blazing flash of emerald (not caught oncamera unfortunately).
Post swim we are feeling…. slightly chilled…. (!!) so don't swim at Bolton Abbey, though it would be a magical place to dip on a summer's evening.
Neither do we embrace the Turkish Baths at Harrogate…. I make an executive decision, feeling so purified and peaceful from our Wharfe dip that no amount of steaming could improve my sense of well-being. Actually I do slightly regret that now, but the enormous tea we demolished in Betty's Tearooms was fair exchange at the time. Then it's pedal to the metal to make a downward swoop back to the Peak District for our last night. We swing by Chatsworth where the river Derwent feels like an old friend; we swam here last year on our way up to the Lake District; it's incredibly still and peaceful after the quick, youthful sprite of the Wharfe; this river flows majestically in no hurry at all. The ancient duke compared to the rakish count. In the dying light with the Chatsworth deer cropping the opposite bank and the quiet park all around us – this could not be a better conclusion to our adventure.
7 days; one speeding fine, more jam and cheese sandwiches than you could believe possible, several bottles of the Queen of Lemonades, a lot of Kate Bush (Wuthering Heights) one internal tent fire resulting in carbon monoxide poisoning, one hurricane, several frightening pubs, a lot of very happy Steve Coogan quoting, one cave, zero Kevin Costner sightings… and 7 perfect swims. Thanks to JJ for being such a brilliant companion (and very flattering - at one point laughing so hard at one of my jokes that she sprayed a mouthful of porridge all over the tent walls... xxx)
