Amongst other things today (saw some Picassos, some Miró's etc etc plus we had coffee and icecream in a café on the beach) the girls went swimming in the Med - there are days when my own life leaves me stunned. Look ma! We're in SPAIN!!!!
Back to what I meant to talk about.
There are, to my mind, two types of people.
Forget all the other fancy definitions. There are the divers and the creepers. Youngest is a diver. Want to go swimming but the water's cold? No problem, she's IN. The occasional shudder but basically she gets in. My sister is the same. My folks too by and large, with the occasional groan and splutter.
I however am a creeper and I always have been.
There is a long and frankly agonising series of zones to achingly wet and gasp past on the way into any water below about 90 degrees F....
The feet and ankles, generally no problem.
Getting the backs of the knees in though...now there's a pause.
Then there are the upper thighs, another hurdle....
Then the waist, again I find strong temptation to bail here as the icy water laps around my previously peaceful and toasty warm belly button.
Once that is accomplished then the armpits...*shudder* *yuck* I don't like this, probably the toughest part, I have spent a lot of time on tiptoes with my arms splayed out and up trying to avoid the inevitable.
Then, then, then, the head duck. I have to confess that by the time I am here it is usually OK....
Watching eldest get in today was hilarious, and would have made a great bit of photography as she inched her way past each cosy zone....
I shouldn't criticise though.
I didn't go in past my ankles.