It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the birds are singing and so on and so forth. After a film festival meeting held OUTSIDE (only in Dorset could we be this privileged - I doubt they organise the Oscars like this) I'm feeling very spring-like and send up a signal to SW who has kindly agreed to come and pick me up (my - disputable - broken arm is making driving difficult). He wisely suggests that we meet at the town tip, what could be nicer. After disposing of six bags of rubbish and buying a mirror for a lonely goose (does it need more explanation?!) we are on our way beachwards.
Conditions are perfect. Mental conditions less so. But we change and advance. The water, I'm not going to lie, is absolutely freezing. Without boots my feet are instantly burning agony. We go for the extremley slow approach, gradually going in inch by inch with several total retreats and discussions and strategy reports. We agree that this water is cold enough to pass the "misted up glass" test. Eventually - and it really is eventually - we make it in. We do this three times and by the third time it really is ok - I am able to swim (in circles mainly, due to my broken arm) breathe, feel my feet and shout bossy reports back to SW. The water is clear and still, the beach is empty. If it weren't so friggin cold this would be paradise. We are a little demoralised as we remember ourselves this time last year skipping merrily in and scorning all those who claimed it was cold; in fact, looking back at the blog this isn't quite true, we swam a lot but never claimed it was warm....
Scoffing cakes and chatting in the warm sun, we plan for future swims, with never a shiver of cold. The only after effects this time - apart from the usual glow of well being and sense of hysteria - is a sudden onset of paralysing tiredness; SW reports a half hour snooze, and I have a very happy doze in my deck chair too. Always worth it!
No comments:
Post a Comment