In the Sea
Swimming in the sea is one of the best things ever.
Here I am, doing it, earlier this afternoon. The tiny dot slightly over to the left of the photo is my head.
Of course, you can see from the crowds that don't surround me that everyone else disagrees.
Everyone else thinks look, for goodness' sake, it's June and the sea in South Wales is freezing. The woman is clearly mad.
But I was taught by my mother - and the only reason that she wasn't in the sea this afternoon was that she was in the hotel's open-air pool: and, in fact, after my swim in the sea, I came up the cliff path and had another swim in the pool. Yes, yes, I know.
My mother always assumes that if you are by the sea, than the greatest pleasure is to swim in it.
She's passed this on to me. The cold doesn't bother me - cold rarely does, as long as I can keep moving - and I absolutely love swimming where there are waves. One of my earliest swimming memories is of realising that, if you float on your back, you will just bob over really quite big waves. I love gliding in with the waves, or plunging through them, or just swimming along parallel to them.
To me, swimming in the sea is the nearest I get to a feeling of total freedom. I hope that, like my mother, I'll still be doing it when I'm eighty-four.
I don't like it when I tread on a flatfish though, and it wiggles under my foot. Everything else is great.
Here I am, doing it, earlier this afternoon. The tiny dot slightly over to the left of the photo is my head.
Of course, you can see from the crowds that don't surround me that everyone else disagrees. Everyone else thinks look, for goodness' sake, it's June and the sea in South Wales is freezing. The woman is clearly mad.
But I was taught by my mother - and the only reason that she wasn't in the sea this afternoon was that she was in the hotel's open-air pool: and, in fact, after my swim in the sea, I came up the cliff path and had another swim in the pool. Yes, yes, I know.
My mother always assumes that if you are by the sea, than the greatest pleasure is to swim in it.
She's passed this on to me. The cold doesn't bother me - cold rarely does, as long as I can keep moving - and I absolutely love swimming where there are waves. One of my earliest swimming memories is of realising that, if you float on your back, you will just bob over really quite big waves. I love gliding in with the waves, or plunging through them, or just swimming along parallel to them.
To me, swimming in the sea is the nearest I get to a feeling of total freedom. I hope that, like my mother, I'll still be doing it when I'm eighty-four.
I don't like it when I tread on a flatfish though, and it wiggles under my foot. Everything else is great.
posted by Daphne at 5:50 pm
3 Comments:
There was a young mermaid from Leeds
Who swam in the coldest of seas
While paddling in Wales
She noticed her scales
Were festooned with pungent green seaweeds.
(Does the last line work? Not sure...)
I am a water baby also. Love everything about it. I prefer warm water, but if it's the sea, I'll take what's offered! I love the sound of it, the feel of it, the smell of it. Take a dip for me!
I do like swimming in the surf as they call it here - and it is slightly warmer in New South Wales than the original South Wales. I'm always surprised by the power of the sea, even the little waves can knock you over here.
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