Time to come out, literally it seems. Having graduated from the pool, I’m now increasingly spending time in the great outdoors. It really is a completely different experience swimming in the open water, lumps and bumps, zero visibility, the threat of the recent jellyfish invasion in Dorset and the car park changing challenge. For some time now I’ve been harbouring an obsessive interest in getting a changing robe so that I don’t have to do that balance on one leg hold onto the car door and attempt to maintain some dignity in the sea front car park. My favoured option is a tad expensive but I saw someone (funnily enough at the infamous “ladies night” – see earlier post) who told me it was worth every penny so I’m teetering literally as well as figuratively.
Anyway back to the post, last night a little under half of our merry band (0.42857 thats the accountant in me) “The Solent 7” decided to brave the early evening swell so that 2 members could try out their new wetsuits. I have to admit I was quite looking forward to the spectacle of the largest two of our group struggling on the seafront putting on brand new wetsuits in the carpark, so you can imagine my disappointment when they both turned up pre suited, leaving just me to do the car park shuffle. My favoured parking spot (right on the beach not too far to walk to the sea) was closed for the Bournemouth Wheels festival so we had to park a few hundred yards away, so I got small satisfaction from them having to walk down the hill fully suited, especially since one of them for reasons only known to him had chosen a pink and white swim hat.
The sea was quite choppy and so we decided that we would set an easy target by walking 3 groins worth of the beach toward Bournemouth and then swimming back towards the pier. Funny how you can have a numbers based dispute within the space of walking that short distance as Mr Pink and White hat tried first to claim the pier and then another structure as being Groyne’s (he didn’t know a: Not to mess with an accountant when it comes to counting, nor b: Not to mess with Bournemouths self-proclaimed Groyne vaulting champion). The Financial adviser among us stepped in to adjudicate and we finally agreed what 3 really looked like. So into the murky choppy depths. It was bracing. There was a rather large swell and we were soon heading back toward the pier at a pace. Distance covered we then decided to swim back at least one into the current. Job done, no Jelly fish seen, to be truthful nothing much seen and we headed back to the car. Well if I had been disappointed to see them arrived pre suited you can imagine how that was compounded when changing robes were produced with a flourish and once again I was left doing the “no one looking are they” Jig. Internet shopping here I come!