Ever since I woke up I've been thinking about my anointed dip in the Men's Pond. I guess I must have decided last night that I would swim this morning. I'm doing The Swimmer again tomorrow and I should be mentally prepared.
Despite the lingering darkness of the morning and the frost on the ground I remain resolved. I think of nothing else other than my aquatic appointment. I'm a bit nervous. I'm a crap cold water swimmer really. I'm not even sure why I do it. I guess it's like whisky, it's not the taste it's the effect. I never drink whisky, well sometimes perhaps, I don't recall.
Anyway, I'm on my bike heading for The Heath. The wintery sun has come out to cheer me on. I watch the commuters herd each other in to the tube station, Not one of them will be thinking about swimming outdoors on Hampstead Heath today. I like that, I am unique, I am free. I'm not thinking about anything else other than swimming outdoors on this beautiful morning.
There are a few swimmers in the changing rooms. They all say good morning, I like that. The board says five degrees. I don't believe a digit of it. As long as I've still got five toes on each foot when I've finished.
With all fingers and toes intact, if slightly numb, I pedal of to the warmth of my King's Cross office. I'll keep this one a secret from my colleagues, I guess we're not thinking the same thing this morning.