for the past week or more finlay and i have been running down to the old harbour at buckpool pretty much every night; around midnight or before one of us will suggest to the other, "fancy a dip in the sea?" and the other will invariably respond with an, "aye, let's go!" and we'll bundle ourselves up - it is not exactly warm outside - and run down to the sea. the first time we went we took the bikes, but finlay is right: it is better to run. it is exhilarating to make our bodies course through the deserted night streets, running ourselves into an enthusiastic body heat for the cold naked encounter that awaits. it feels like there is a cord which joins me and the sea; the cord pulls me; the cord is my desire to enter the sea.
mostly it has been lowish tide, so we clamber down towards the swishing laconic pull across the big round clunky stones and don't even think - splash! sometimes i swim out beyond the pier so as to see the yellow street lights of the yardie sparkling off the sea. sometimes the stars are up in the sky. we don't stay in the water very long. usually twenty seconds is enough to make me shrink in the sea's icy hands and furiously front crawl want to regain the shore, the beautiful solid dry stones and the blood which is left coursing round the body as if a big wild blood circulation celebration had been initiated. the blood is furiously happy to run round the body. i can't say it feels particularly cold; i could almost say it feels hot.
extraordinarily fresh is what it feels.
finlay says that the dalai lama says that the purpose of life is to be happy, and i can tell from the way he says it that he too thinks it is so.
mostly it has been lowish tide, so we clamber down towards the swishing laconic pull across the big round clunky stones and don't even think - splash! sometimes i swim out beyond the pier so as to see the yellow street lights of the yardie sparkling off the sea. sometimes the stars are up in the sky. we don't stay in the water very long. usually twenty seconds is enough to make me shrink in the sea's icy hands and furiously front crawl want to regain the shore, the beautiful solid dry stones and the blood which is left coursing round the body as if a big wild blood circulation celebration had been initiated. the blood is furiously happy to run round the body. i can't say it feels particularly cold; i could almost say it feels hot.
extraordinarily fresh is what it feels.
finlay says that the dalai lama says that the purpose of life is to be happy, and i can tell from the way he says it that he too thinks it is so.
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