I braved the sea on Sunday and floated just off the coast of Kent. A little bit of swimming, but mostly floating, as oh, I like to float.
It was April when I last saw the sea. The April just before everything changed. Since then I had yearned, time and time again, to stare out into the distance at the waves. So much so that on Friday, I walked beside the Thames and when something resembling a beach appeared, I stood in the squelchy mud, staring out at Isleworth and at the boat of tourists that went past.
Sunday then, I was very glad to get to the actual sea. It was not quite as cold as I had imagined, as I walked slowly into the water, and then began to gently drift along with the waves. Sometimes, just sometimes, it even felt warm.
It was April when I last saw the sea. The April just before everything changed. Since then I had yearned, time and time again, to stare out into the distance at the waves. So much so that on Friday, I walked beside the Thames and when something resembling a beach appeared, I stood in the squelchy mud, staring out at Isleworth and at the boat of tourists that went past.
Sunday then, I was very glad to get to the actual sea. It was not quite as cold as I had imagined, as I walked slowly into the water, and then began to gently drift along with the waves. Sometimes, just sometimes, it even felt warm.
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