That was almost certainly my last swim aged 52 years.

It was all appropriately autumnal but utterly wonderful.

Today was one of those October days when the air is still warm but buffeted by squally winds that start to scatter willow leaves across the ponds.

The water was a reasonable 16 degrees according to the lifeguards’ board,  but its surface was wrinkled by the breezes and alternately sparkling with still-bright sunshine or dark with grey clouds.

I lay on my back in the middle, mesmerised by that intersection between the two elements: bright light and dark water with the silver in-between.


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