Young Fergus was almost sure that something was not quite right about his evening swim.
But he could not put his finger on it.
No clue as to what wasn’t right. He kept searching his trousers and anorak pockets while trying to remember what he had forgotten…
… and too boring for muted colours!
Massive respect to the fuchsia lady on the Dart.
Donnacha was determined to get one last rush of adrenaline before the annual lift-out tomorrow.
He was enjoying every second of this white knuckle ride as he was zooming across Dublin bay in his formula 1 of the waves.
Now that I am no longer able to go for a swim every day, I have to take an educated guess at how much the water temperature has dropped in the week just gone.
Or rather I dive in, and hope for the best.
Dipping a toe and trying to go in gradually would be just too soul-sapping.
Especially the tie.
The shaggin tie…