Skip to main content

Taking the Plunge


Well, our heating engineer
returned from his travels and we found not one but two electricians and a builder so it looks as if July will (fingers crossed) be the month when we take the financial plunge. The current boiler’s being put out of its misery and the wiring, which seems to consist of very few sockets and very many extension leads, will be replaced. If there’s any money left in the system we may even be able to spend it something more fun like, oooh, big whoopee, a kitchen or bathroom, but I suspect that things like new paint colours and fabrics are way down the line. Never mind, I’m not complaining, I’m still feeling very fortunate that we’ve landed where we have; I’ve had enough tough times to appreciate the good times when they come along.

Many years ago, I got into difficulties in very deep water trying to swim back to a boat. Worse still, I had my small daughters with me. I remember being underwater seeing Lily’s legs kicking above me as she broke the surface and the sense of relief that the girls were going to be all right. Clearly, we all made it back, but it’s left me with a very healthy respect for the sea. But when Tom proposed an early morning swim this week, I was more concerned about the water temperature, after all it hasn’t exactly been scorchio here lately.

A walk down the hill and wrestling into a wetsuit soon chased the cold away, but I did think I was going to bottle it at the eleventh hour when I saw how the wind was whipping up the waves. Thanks to some help from Tom, I managed to overcome my nerves and I was so glad I did! It’s pretty exhilarating splashing about in the waves, especially when there’s no one else on the beach, so we’ve every intention of making the most of it before the busy summer holidays. Once in a while, feeling the fear and doing it anyway is the jolt that reminds you how good it feels to take the plunge. The photographic evidence's at the top of this post... but, naturally, there are no big waves in sight!

Comments

Jane Lovering said…
That looks bracing! Next thing you'll be windsurfing about everywhere...
Milla said…
I find the sea really scary - even carrying a bucket of water tells you how heavy it is so to have thumping big waves bearing down with intent? no thanks!!
Flowerpot said…
Oh I agree - we all have to take the plunge sometimes. But I nearly drowned once and it was terrifying experience. Good for you Chris!
Just had a lovely catch up with your previous posts Chris. Good to hear you are settling into the new house and enjoying your garden.

My goodness, I can't believe you have just finished your third novel - go girl! Hope you enjoyed your swim!

Jeanne
x
Maggie Christie said…
Fabulous! I love swimming the in sea and the extra buoyancy of a wetsuit. What you now need is a body board of course...
You are brave! I just about get my ankles wet and am always amazed when the teens spend hours in the sea on their boards. Brrrrr.
Frances said…
Chris, I love this post. It's summoned up so many of my own memories about water and me. Floating...what a miracle. Waves, something else altogether.

It's got me wishing that I will someday get to sit down again with you and Tom and talk of so many things.

Your writing in this post will most likely contribute to some plot lines in my dreams tonight.

Dreams, mind you, no nightmares. xo
Pondside said…
I love the beach when there's no one else there - not so fond of the big breakers though.
Fennie said…
Chris - that must have been a terrible experience that I would wake up sweating from if ever it had happened to me. I am with Milla here, really never seen the attraction of immersion in cold water. Only once in Greece with the temperature about 30 degrees and the sea turquoise and I with a snorkel did I ever have a rewarding marine experience. So rather you than me, wet suit or no wet suit. Still I suppose there aren't any dogs to chase you and nip you in the bum.
Pauline Barclay said…
You brave thing...even our sea is much warmer, but I don't go in it! Good luck with the renovations, I'm with you on those in fact I've just Blogged about our latest disaster...sob!

Find more time to enjoy your beautiful home....hugs x
Fab pic, Chris. I, too must confess to being a bit of a sissy when it comes to the sea, although I think I might feel a bit braver if I had a nice wetsuit like yours. Don't like it when I can't touch the bottom. Or see the bottom. Or think there's a chance there might be the odd fish down there. Or crabs. Or jellyfish. Or worse...

Did I hear the words 'third novel'? Am hugely impressed! xx
Chris Stovell said…
Eek! Just a quickie - no, have just finished second novel, well second for Choc Lit anyway!
HelenMWalters said…
You were brave to risk the cold!
Chris Stovell said…
Jane, I won't say 'never', but that feels a tad ambitious for me!

I understand that, Milla, but at the moment, I've overcome the fear... mind you, still don't like seeing the odd jellyfish about. Too much like water spiders. eeek!

Fp, taking the plunge is what you're doing lots of lately!

Jeanne, I wish! No, just two! And thank you.

Ah, Mags, I know you're more intrepid than me, but maybe I'll give the body boarding a go!

Debs, the wetsuit works wonders - I wouldn't go in without it!

Frances, that's a lovely thought about this post working its way into your dreams. I do hope we can sit down together again and catch up. The door's open...

Pondside, it is a special feeling - we feel lucky to live so close to a beach that's quiet most of the time.
Chris Stovell said…
Fennie.. the jellyfish worry me; I'm always a bit worried about an 'Alien' moment and getting one in the face!

Pauline, thanks for your good wishes - I do hope the building works are progressing as they should now.

LBD, No, don't mention the jellyfish (see above)! Truly, the water's lovely and clear here and the beach is flat and sandy with no seaweed... or I probably wouldn't go in either.

Helen - three cheers for the wetsuit, although the first trickle of cold water down the neck is horrid!
Rob-bear said…
Swimming? In a wet suit?
Where is your spirit of adventure?

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Blended families come with conflicting loyalties and at Christmas time nearly everyone has somewhere else they feel they ought to be. Throw partners into the equation and it gets even more complicated. Since Tom and I aren’t especially hung up about Christmas we’re happy to let our children go with the strongest flow, but I have to say it was a great delight to have the girls and their partners staying with us this year. When such moments are few and far between they become very precious. My stepsons weren’t far from our thoughts either, not least because we had the very happy news on Christmas Day that my elder stepson and his girlfriend had become engaged. Congratulations Dan and Gill, here’s wishing you every happiness together. Tom and I end a year that has seen the fruition of many years work, both of us crossing important thresholds within weeks of each other. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Turning the Tide published next year and it’s been so satisfying, after al...

Fly Free, Dottie Do

‘How many days to my birthday?’ Ma asks. I do a quick calculation. ‘Eighteen,’ I reply. ‘Eighteen days until your ninetieth birthday.’ Ma pulls a face and shakes her head. Every sentence is hard work for her now, when each breath is a struggle. ‘You’ll have to write a book about this, you know,’ she says, with one of her quick, mischievous smiles. ‘“Carry On Dying”. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry.’ The smile fades. ‘Who knew,’ she adds wearily, ‘that dying would be such a palaver?’  It’s only eleven days since Ma was diagnosed with a high-grade, aggressive lymphoma, four days since she was overwhelmed with pain and breathing difficulties and was admitted as an emergency to hospital. Until a few weeks ago, she lived completely independently; shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending her much-loved garden. The deterioration in her health is shockingly rapid. The eight days preceding her death are a living hell, a constant battle with the ward staff to get Ma the pain relief she’s been p...

Since You've Been Gone

Well, Ma Mère, There have been so many times when I’ve gathered up all the little shiny moments I’ve collected during the day, ready to present to you in our evening phone call and then I remember all over again that you’re not there. But, Mum, so much has happened since you’ve gone - maybe you know, maybe you don’t - that I’ve decided to write to you instead.  A few days after you died, we sold our house! After all those months! We even joked about you rattling cages somewhere. At first, nothing happened and then suddenly everything happened at a breathless pace and the next thing I knew I found myself driving (yes, me, driving!) along the M4 to Bridgend and the Time Capsule House, the one you said you and Dad would have bought. I remarked, when we first viewed it that if it was meant for us, it would come to us. Over a year later, when it had been under offer twice, we moved in. Oh, Mum, you and Dad would have loved this house; it’s peak Seventies and the decor - the pampas ensu...