I swim in my pants – my pants and a t-shirt. It just feels more of an adventure that way. I used to make a special trip to the beach with my swimming stuff, but more often than not I wouldn’t go in. I would sit and shiver on the shingle feel wretched and disappointed in myself. We live on the east coast – I swim in the North Sea – it is cold, very cold. Making it a big deal kind of stopped it feeling like an adventure.
However, for the past week or so I have been going swimming almost everyday after work. Me and the dog turn up, I take my skirt off and jump in the sea, pretending it isn’t freezing and that I am a brave wild swimmer.
I then wrap my towel around me and drive home – wet and soggy in my undies, but exhilarated. It works for me. Sometimes I swim in the secret pool, but more often than not I swim across the lagoon to the shingle spit, back and forth, back and forth.
The dog comes too. He is faster than me, but not impressed at all by my antics.
He hopes we are going to the beach for a walk or to play with a toy.
I don’t think he likes swimming much, but I like to swim with him and as he is a team player he obliges me with just a hint of bad grace.
He really is a lovely dog.
N.B. yeah, yeah, yeah … I know, back in the 1970s it was all just swimming, but now it is wild swimming this or open-water swimming that – I know, I know …. but it does make it feel more exciting – so there.