Freaked out by noticing his resemblance to the dodgy lifeguard in EoD's birthday book (who actually turned out to be Captain Matthew Webb, the first person to swim the channel) SW arrives clean shaven at the beach...
I am in high spirits brought about by the sun, the spring and the general sense of well-being that being reunited to swim with SW on these blissful days in this blissful place inspire in me. We prance along the beach debating, who knows why, whether clotted cream is the greatest of the dairy products. SW reveals that he has butter AND clotted cream on his scones, which seems a contentious issue. It may be pleasing to note that we in the West Country really do have conversations like this.
We arrive at a spot suitably isolated, revelling in the glorious desertion of the beach, which state is soon to be broken by the distant rumble of the Easter hordes. I'm sure someone else must have swum here today, but since we haven't seen them, we can pretend it hasn't happened. We have had a genius idea for the blog and spend some time in discussion and set-up – to be revealed when all is ready – and once prepared, we prance to the waters edge and make what feels like a graceful entry with no prancing and little cormorating. We have three long bathes, each more joyous than the last. We are truly wallowing in this gift of clear skies and hot sun, and things could not be more perfect. We are able to swim, talk, go underwater (just – the brain freeze is fairly crippling but as SW puts it "good in a really bad way") and prance about on the water's edge. It's heaven.
As we change we agree that looking forward all day to the swim that is over in ten minutes is a drag, but for the obsession levels, an evening swim is better, as we know it is there, and can just about bend your mind to other things during the day. These sacrifices are necessary in order to fit in with society. We change leisurely and cheerfully with barely a shiver and many a hysterical giggle.
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