I've started going to the sea to swim
I’ve started going to the sea to swim. There’s something about being on the edge of the world, between the waves, that makes my skin tingle from a sensation that stems from more than just the cold. Although the cold itself is, I admit, biting. There’s something too, something specific, about the smell of sea salt in the air, and about climbing down to an empty beach in the middle of winter. No accompaniment but a towel and a bag of warm clothes by your side. The bay itself doesn’t feel caged in by the steep cliff faces that tower up almost on all sides. Instead, it encases you, offering shelter, and a sense of safety from the elements and the people above, on a level with the vastness of what lies before. Above, the wind whips you around, and also, more obviously, around you. Great big gusts that mean although spring is coming, there’s waiting time yet. Down here, though, you can place your face to the wind. And breathe. Down the last of the stone st...