Day 629: Rats and Flatbreads

Lovely to see Rob, though I was slightly late, having jammed in a swim as an absolute must. My hands still cold, Rob wrapped them, one by one, in his ovened flatbread when his dinner came. A first, today. Not a last. Next time a hot flatbread is delivered to a table near me, I'm in. Five stars, I say. Did my fingers a whole new world of good. 

It had to happen today. I was late, but I had to be held in that water womb today. It's not just nipping, at 8 degrees, it's got teeth. I was out of my clothes and in the water within a minute, but I let it hold me for a reasonable time. I was going to say respectable, but there's no such thing. Stay in as long or as short as you like, it's not a competition, it's a gift. 

never leave a rat and a flatbread unattended

I was late, and it's fine to rush the clothes off, but the second I'm on the steps,the slow, calm ritual begins. However rushed I am, I take the steps steadily, stepping off and stepping in. Sometimes with a lurch, but not for speed. Then I bathe in sensation. Why come here just to rush that bit. I feel every inch of skin and flesh find itself within the cold. I wait it out. I plunge, head under, and pop up (like the cormorant does, only for shorter). I shake my head dog-like and swim on. 

I was transfixed by the cormorant, ugly-elegant, black-beaked and curious. It looked concentrated but not, like the heron, on the water - balanced on the life ring, it had its head lifted up to the sky. As I gazed and cooed at its beauty, it suddenly spewed forth a stream of white waste into the water - a spout, if you like, of shag-shit. I laughed and it went back to being gnarly and stunning. 

As I turned and headed back towards the hut, I spotted rats. Two of them, I saw. Swimming woman Val said three. Fat and happy, they went about their business, jumping up and down steps. Just animals. Not gross or cute, but pleasing. None of them dived in. They're good little swimmers, apparently. I did, and drank in that moment of dark nothing as I cross the water's line. Lost. And then the ice cream headache and the bliss smile and the glee at having done it one more day, even though I was scared. 

Cold shower: aaaarrrrggghh!

Back inside, Val and I discussed whether to shower hot or cold this time of year. She chose cold today. I chose hot. She chose better. With cold, it still feels warmer than the pond. It's harsh on the head, the cold, but the hot opens up your pores and confuses your body. It wants to concentrate on warming up the core, but then we warm it with hot water and the blood can't do anything but come up to meet it, so the superficial warmth runs cold deeper into your veins. Cold shower, hot bucket for feet and hands (lovely mental image, all folded in like a shrimp). Next time, in a week, when the world has changed. 
Till then, big love.
And gratitude.