I’ve never been a fan of swimming. I loathed it at school and I’m not thrilled when the boys want to go. It’s cold and smelly and I once found a toenail (a whole toenail) in a changing room.
But for some reason, a few weeks ago, I fancied going swimming. I ignored it, hoping it would go away, but then I dragged myself off to our local pool and… I really enjoyed it.
It was very quiet. I was the youngest person there by about 25 years. I swam about a bit. I got out. I got dry. I went home. I ate everything in the fridge. (Swimming makes me hungrier than anything else ever.) And then I thought… I’ll do that again.
I went again this morning and enjoyed it even more. Mainly because every now and then the sun shone through the glass roof and I could paddle my way over to a patch of sunny pool and pretend I was on holiday.