“It is August,” I declared haughtily, “so if I want to go into the sea, I will go into the sea. There is nothing mad about it.”
As it turned out, it was slightly mad. Owing to global warming, holes in ozone layers, and possibly something to do with people leaving greenhouse doors open, the seasons have apparently lost all meaning. Hence, the Irish Sea seems to genuinely believe that it’s winter. Of course, when you’ve just made a whole big song and dance about how it’s perfectly normal to want to go for a swim in the sea in August, it’s pretty much impossible to say “Errr – actually – it’s rather cold today, isn’t it? Who’s for a big mug of hot chocolate and a nice game of Cluedo in the caravan?”.
I ran blindly into the sea. (Literally. I had removed my glasses, which gave me the disadvantage of not being able to see where I was going, but the advantage of not being able to see the large chunks of ice floating around in the water.) I didn’t stop running until I was waist-deep, at which point I valiantly flung myself under the surface, and emerged trembling and jerking, my skin tinged a healthy blue. It was definitely not pleasurable. I smiled broadly and waved wildly at my disapproving friends on the shore. “It’s fabulous!” I cooed, trying to breathe through the shock and pain. “Not cold at all! You don’t know what you’re missing!”
A loud roaring noise built up in my head, and I shook it fiercely, fearing that I was about to pass out because of the sudden drastic drop in body temperature. Fortunately, the source of the noise turned out not to be internal. Less fortunately, I only made this discovery when a roaring, ten-foot, frothing and spraying wave came crashing down on top of me at about 90mph, pulling me down to the bottom and then hurling me forward and retreating, leaving me dazed, confused and coughing up salt next to a surprised young paddler at the water’s edge.
I stood up. My arms were bruised, my skin was a highly unnatural colour, my lungs were filled with seawater (and probably sewage).
“Wow!” I exclaimed excitedly.
I borrowed a body-board and ran back out to the waves.
Maybe I’m some kind of sadist?
Filed under: beach, Benone, body boards, Fear, friends, pain, sea, sheer silliness, summer
Not at all!!!!
A few freaks here in DunLaoghaire on the east coast of Ireland (near Dublin) go dipping in the sea on Christmas morning every year. One octogenarian claims it’s his secret to longevity. Crazy if you ask me.
Oops. You’re in Northern Ireland. I don’t need to tell you where DunLaoghaire is! D’oh…
Actually, you do – my geographical knowledge (even of my own town!!) is shockingly inadequate.
As for the winter swimming thing – here, it’s New Year’s Day in a harbour.
Nuts.
Nothin like the open waters and bodyboarding ! good blog
[...] I’m really only acquainted with beaches of the Northern Irish variety. I’m a big fan of the Northern Irish coast, as you know – I’ve spent many a happy day on the Strand at Portrush, wandering along the seafront in Newcastle, clambering over rocks at the Causeway, and body-boarding/dodging glaciers at Benone. [...]