It shall be my fifth consecutive evening swim in the harbour. Spring tides are here. I’m togged up. I head down to launch myself when the water is high, but the spirit is low, weak. Not this evening, I decide. There is no need. Why put yourself through this torture? Nobody’s forcing you. You’re a … Continue reading The Contented Loneliness of the Cold Water Swimmer
Over four nights, I read The Old Man and The Sea to the two brothers, twenty-five pages before they went to bed. I did wonder at their eyes staring into corners of the room, seeming to follow spiders, or shadows, sometimes a hand reaching absently for another Ginger Snap. Were they listening at all, or were they … Continue reading Destroyed but Not Defeated
On the fun to be had in falling into water.
I had agreed to it, and happily so. It sounded like a great idea. Right up until 7am on Tuesday morning when I thought: the water is about 12 degrees and this bed is really warm and cosy. I knew swimming outdoors would either boost my energy for the day, or finish me off and … Continue reading Messing About In The River
My Edinburgh Press 