A love letter to our local beach…

52.

(I think we should count the things that count).

This evening was swim number 52. Fifty two swims on our local beach since the start of May.

Some days it’s been a five minute swim, other days forty five minutes.

Some days a brisk 8am swim, other days a relaxed 7pm swim in the sunshine.

Sometimes so cold you don’t want to be in for long, other times you never want to get out of the water. Oh, and sometimes it’s raining.

So okay, it’s not the Mediterranean, it’s not clear blue water.

It’s the Thames estuary.

But still, it’s special. It’s become such an important ritual in our life. Especially in 2020 and these last few months when we’ve had to stay close to home. So grateful to have a beach we can swim from at the bottom of the road.

We just have to monitor the tide times. Because when it’s low you can’t go, and when it’s high you have to go. And you only get one chance a day.

I’m not a fantastic swimmer, I have zero technique. But there’s something amazing about getting immersed in the water. Plunging under the water makes you feel invincible. If you’re stressed or irritable, it’s so cleansing. You always emerge reinvigorated.

And then there are days like yesterday evening. When there of tens of people you know down there. Swimming over to each other to say hello. Sitting with a beer on the sand afterwards. Spotting some other folks you know and walking over for a chat.

And usually the chat is the same. How we found the water that day. What it felt like. And how damn fortunate we are to have this on our doorstep. 🙏🏼