 | | 2016-07-05 15:11
From blog Rosalind Jana
Swimming in Oxford
(1) I’m at home in water. The minute it’s warm enough to go without tights, it’s warm enough to be shimmying out into rivers, lakes, and (dare I say it?) waves. At least, I like to think it is. Sometimes I’ll still wimp out, dallying at the edge, wondering if retreat is better. But often the promise of thrill wins out: the chance to fold up flickering, busy thoughts with my clothes and towel, leave them behind on the grass bank. It’s a way to pitch forward into something very immediate, to emerge again at the end somehow scoured. That’s what’s so wonderful about swimming outdoors. You are distilled down...
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