Hottest day ever in the UK, apparently. I know, I’ll shut up about the weather at some point, I promise. Trouble is, when it’s this clammy, it’s actually quite difficult to concentrate on anything else.

Anyway.

With another scorcher predicted, P and I jumped in the car and headed once more for points south, ending up this time in….West Wittering again. Well, it’s just what you need on a day like this.

And it *was*. What we needed. Exactly what was required: a chance to enjoy the summer rather than resenting it (or watching it swelter from behind corporate smoked glass only to retreat behind clouds when the working day is over).

The beach was packed out with punters, but practically perfect in every way. Sunshine, sand, a light breeze, sea the perfect temperature for swimming. It all just came together, in one long sunny afternoon on the South Coast.

We swum lazy laps to the sandbar and back. We lay on a blanket and read. We ate chicken drumsticks smothered in barbeque sauce. We even exposed our pallid city legs to the world (first time for everything), figuring that if ever there was a time to reveal an imperfect body, it was on a sunny beach full of others just as lumpy, bumpy and pale -along with, of course, the few adonii who we went to great pains to stand very far away from.

But the main point of this: I haven’t swum for years - the last time was in the sea off Iona, I think, or possibly in Greece - and it felt fantastic. Consider me now resolved to book a holiday for next year where I can swim in the sea. I’m going to take my cozzie up to the Hebrides when I go on holiday later this week, but the weather’s supposed to be turning, so I’m not confident that I’ll be able to go for more than an extended paddle. Hypothermia isn’t a good look.