Water temp: depends on what you believe in
I'm on The Heath. This is good. This is always good. I'm on my way home. This is also good. I'm going to swing by the ponds to check what time the swimming races are held tomorrow. I've never taken part, but that could change this year. I shouldn't really take part, I've not been well, I'm definitely not well enough to swim today, I can't shake this rhatid cold off.
Despite the clouds, cold and damp it's a lovely morning on The Heath.
There's a poster on the board at the men's pond which has the time of tomorrow's races. Great, that means I don't have to deal with the wit and vagueness of the lifeguards. Hey, the sun is coming out. Water temperature is six degrees, I don't believe in Santa Claus either. The sun has come out. It's a shame that I'm not well enough to go swimming. Obviously I ignore myself and swim anyway, what harm could it possibly do? I swim a bit of front-crawl and imagine myself racing in front of the cheering crowds. The seagulls just laugh at me, the big one sitting on the lifebuoy keeps his big beady eye on me as I saunter past. I feel alive again.
I spend ages and ages talking to Dan the lifeguard in the winter sunshine. It's a glorious morning. Whatever I did, I feel a lot better now.