9.30am Sunday 6th November 2011, Hive

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.