Swimming – This weekend, I became one of those women who posts photos of themselves wading into icy water wearing a bobble hat. In the dark, under the fattest, glow-in-the-dark biscuit of a moon, you couldn’t see the goose flesh as the slick cold inched upwards. And upwards. Unbearable, exquisite, until, suddenly… Oh, I can breathe… and survive this. For a few minutes anyway. And just as quickly the insulation enchantment has gone and I’m shivering. Painful cold. Afterwards, roughly any-old-how dressed and, thank Thermos, clutching steam-hot tea there’s nothing but laughter, death-defying, fuck-you-fear, piss-your-pants mirth. When can I do this again?