29th June 2024

Covid solo

Six thirty. Earlier than regular swimming. No conviviality, a quiet and unassuming slope in slippers through grey backs, shadowed by tall buildings, over damp pavements, passing half-drunk cans of cider on the corner beside the bins. A soundtrack of arguing gulls.

There is no one else yet. We are slow, the kind of pace that indicates not entirely well. Steadily up the steep, fat concrete steps and down again. High steps, steep rise, but not many of them, steel handrail if you like, enough to get over a sea wall and onto shingle. Crunch to the water’s edge.

The shingle here is mostly flat, there are gentle slopes but no struggle. Only the very last foot or so, which slopes to the sea at forty five degrees and demands that I stand sideways and slide until my feet touch the water.

By then, I have shed the slippers and dressing gown. I am lucky to have a friend to hold them, to watch out. I’m no longer hot and feverish, just worn, warm and ready to be lifted up. I wear an old spare. In the normal world, there is foot cover and hats and a bag full of stuff just in case. Here, I have towel.

One, two three splash! I am transformed, right now, this is my element. Move over jellyfish, flip aside, fish. No more pitiful plague victim, more a cackling Bond villain, submerged with the whole damn sea to myself. I am instantly lifted into the position of being Queen of the world, alone and in charge of everything that waves and sparkles to the horizon and back.

There is nothing to confine me, not even my dastardly Covid.

It is glorious. The sun has already shed a wide strip of glitter and I swim towards that through water that is pale grey green and glassy and around fourteen degrees. It’s not cold exactly, not flinchy cold at least, but it’s not yet summer warm.

The sea transfigures me, it makes me better, supports my aching joints and lifts me out of anxiety. I am free and I thank the goddess on the endless horizon (my eyes aren’t good enough to see the windmills) and as I run into the glitter I also run into the current that chooses to pull me out.

I look at the beach that is further away now than it was and becoming further than I would like it to be and I turn and swim in a proper swimming way, rather than the gentle side-on slide to which I’ve lazily become accustomed.

I leave the glitter and head for home. The beach heads slowly closer.

I manage to climb the shingle micro cliff side on in one go and make it over the pebbles and to my friend, my slippers and towel.

For a few minutes, the sea healed me, cooling, sympathetic a comforting world power.

The seagull argument had not resolved.

If you know your six thirty skies, you will know that this is not one of them. Forgot my camera (too tired prob), warmed up, dried off, applied coffee then returned to the beach to take this just after eight.