Janet Gogerty's Blog: Sandscript - Posts Tagged "isle-of-wight"
Sandscript at Sea
'The Water's Lovely' is the title of the Ruth Rendell paperback I have been reading at our beach hut - you can read my review here on Goodreads. An appropriate title, though the story is about a drowning in the bath.
The only water some beach hut owners come into contact with is that which comes out of the stand pipe to fill their kettles. For myself and others one of the benefits of a beach hut is a handy changing room for sea swimming. My first swim of the year in May was at 11 degrees, yesterday the sea temperature had gone up to 16 degrees. It is not easy wading into the cold sea, but the thought of the beach hut shelter and kettle boiling for a hot drink helps boost morale.
So why do it? People go in The Solent all year round, much to the entertainment of onlookers and photographers. In wet suits they surf, body board, kite surf out to the horizon or power through the waves freestyle as if in practice for a channel crossing. Every Sunday morning at Boscombe Pier, from October to April, the Bournemouth Spartans, aged ten to ninety, extol the healthy virtues of winter sea swimming. At least they enjoy the benefit of warm showers; on other mornings on any stretch of the beach you may see a solitary bike propped up with a pile of clothes on the saddle and a towel on the handlebars. A swimmer will emerge for a quick salty rub down, then jump on his or her bike. I have seen an elderly, very arthritic man regularly hobble down to the water's edge with a human and dog companion and plunge in.
I don't possess any equipment except a swimming costume. I swim parallel to the shore, within my depth, east to the next groyne, pain turning to numbness. As I turn around, the warm glow has usually arrived and if the afternoon sun is shining in my face it is exhilarating; I know why I am doing it and the water is lovely.
Cold freshwater shower on the promenade, brisk walk up to the beach hut. If it is sunny I sit and soak up the warmth. If the sun has disappeared behind black clouds and a stiff breeze blown up, then I wrap up with plenty of layers and enjoy my coffee. Either way, it is time to scribble some more of my novel, I have usually planned another scene while in the sea.
It is a beach hut, not a beach house; a calor gas ring, enough room for folding chairs, cupboards, shelves and hooks. A tiny wooden shed; we own the wood, the council owns the square of concrete it sits on, but it is large enough for its purpose and affords a great view of the Isle of Wight and The Purbecks. For a taste of the seaside visit my website.
http://www.ccsidewriter.co.uk
The only water some beach hut owners come into contact with is that which comes out of the stand pipe to fill their kettles. For myself and others one of the benefits of a beach hut is a handy changing room for sea swimming. My first swim of the year in May was at 11 degrees, yesterday the sea temperature had gone up to 16 degrees. It is not easy wading into the cold sea, but the thought of the beach hut shelter and kettle boiling for a hot drink helps boost morale.
So why do it? People go in The Solent all year round, much to the entertainment of onlookers and photographers. In wet suits they surf, body board, kite surf out to the horizon or power through the waves freestyle as if in practice for a channel crossing. Every Sunday morning at Boscombe Pier, from October to April, the Bournemouth Spartans, aged ten to ninety, extol the healthy virtues of winter sea swimming. At least they enjoy the benefit of warm showers; on other mornings on any stretch of the beach you may see a solitary bike propped up with a pile of clothes on the saddle and a towel on the handlebars. A swimmer will emerge for a quick salty rub down, then jump on his or her bike. I have seen an elderly, very arthritic man regularly hobble down to the water's edge with a human and dog companion and plunge in.
I don't possess any equipment except a swimming costume. I swim parallel to the shore, within my depth, east to the next groyne, pain turning to numbness. As I turn around, the warm glow has usually arrived and if the afternoon sun is shining in my face it is exhilarating; I know why I am doing it and the water is lovely.
Cold freshwater shower on the promenade, brisk walk up to the beach hut. If it is sunny I sit and soak up the warmth. If the sun has disappeared behind black clouds and a stiff breeze blown up, then I wrap up with plenty of layers and enjoy my coffee. Either way, it is time to scribble some more of my novel, I have usually planned another scene while in the sea.
It is a beach hut, not a beach house; a calor gas ring, enough room for folding chairs, cupboards, shelves and hooks. A tiny wooden shed; we own the wood, the council owns the square of concrete it sits on, but it is large enough for its purpose and affords a great view of the Isle of Wight and The Purbecks. For a taste of the seaside visit my website.
http://www.ccsidewriter.co.uk
Sandscript
I like to write first drafts with pen and paper; at home, in busy cafes, in the garden, at our beach hut... even sitting in a sea front car park waiting for the rain to stop I get my note book out. We
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