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.
SW
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