It hasn’t really felt like winter’s as I remember them, but then again I do remember some pretty grim winters. Miner’s strikes cutting power to damp cities, shoes that never seemed to dry out, England and I are in a better place now.
The thing that has really exorcised the ghost of winters past for me has been my daily swims in Tooting Bec Lido; the realisation that our bodies not only survive more extreme temperatures but can actually thrive, the support of people when they see you going through this process, almost religious but without the dogma, a healthy cult where the pay-off is seeing that light of realisation, of trust in oneself and the environment. How lovely, how truly and simply lovely.
Whilst roasting in the Tooting Bec Lido sauna the other day someone referred to the current weather as a heat wave. The water, hovering at 5 degrees seems to some to be a balmy bath compared to what it could be at this time of year, so people wander about virtually naked but for a lick of cloth and occasionally a pair of Liz Taylor sunglasses, chit chatting as if we were in Benalmadena minus the palms. Anyone looking in through the security fence might see people who are locked in for their own good.
I can’t believe it was the 19th of May that I returned to Blighty, it seems like an age since then.
I have done few of the things I had lined up for my return and many of the things I had not, for instance I have only been to one festival though I had lined up myself a good few more to attend, yet have been busy work-wise plus have been helping a fellow turn his pub into an art gallery.