Danger!

"You must be mad" he said to me.

I was on a bus to Salford Quays, chatting to a man who was going to Media City for a meeting. He reminded me of Rohan, my old landlord from Canterbury. Rohan looked like a colonial white African, powerfully framed, leather like skin and an inbuilt confidence. This was hardly surprising as he lived on the shores or Lake Tanganyika most of the year, teaching the International Baccaleurate in the local school.

The man on the bus, in his salmon coloured Ralph Lauren slacks was slightly put out having to travel by bus. The tram line was closed for the weekend so it wasn't the first choice for either of us. He simply wanted directing once off the bus and I was happy to help.

"Madness is relative" I said.
"To what?" he asked.
"Perception.....I know swimming in the dock in April will be unpleasant, but I'll live and I'll feel more alive afterwards....it would be mad not to!" I replied.

You take this sign for example....Danger Deep Water ! No swimming! It has the power to make people fearful of the water. Yet, the greatest danger in cold water is fear and panic. How does the depth of the water add to the risk. Yes, it's a hazardous environment but it's not at all dangerous if you treat it with respect. The sign is more dangerous than the water as it changes people's perceptions of risk.

My first steps in were fine. Two girls were dangling their feet over the edge into the water but were scared to go further. They gave me confidence...just like when I took my friend Liz swimming last year...... I wanted to show them it was fine. I was apprehensive inside my head though as I knew the next 20 mins were gonna be unpleasant. I waded beyond my goolies, always the most difficult level to breach. I wet my face and then started to swim, initially using breast stroke.

The deep gasps came...."automatic physiological response" I said to myself, as my face was immersed in the water. It took about 5 attempts to keep my face down! Pain shot up my neck, culminating in extreme ice cream head. One short lap done.....one to go. My dodgy wrist started hurting but I kept going for another few hundred metres. Andy Chalmers and another guy helped me out onto the dockside.......the pain in my wrist now unbearable.

The changing tent was full of camaraderie. Someone helped me get my wetsuit off, I helped another guy zip up. I was screaming quietly with pain from my wrist but knew it would soon be OK. Core temperature hadn't dropped so I warmed up quite quickly and headed home.

After lunch I watched a great film in the Storyville series about war photographer, Tim Hetherington. The guy had it sorted! I related to him as he had a deep fascination in people and simply wanted to tell stories through the photos he took. "There's something inherent in male biology that makes men of a certain age want to go to war". It's probably the same thing that makes people join gangs or even political parties, a sense of belonging. My biology must be different.....I love to connect with people but find belonging 'to a tribe' limiting and almost xenophobic. Hetherington was eventually killed by a mortar in Libya a few years ago.

The subplot of the film reminded me of when my mum died. I wasn't sad or even too upset. I even said to Paul, my year head and a psychologist at uni' not to tell me what to feel. Like Hetherington, I don't find death upsetting. It's seeing the deep sadness of those that are left behind which is more difficult to deal with.

On a brighter note, I then headed out on the bike, later than planned. I rode up the classic climb, Snake Pass as fast as I could. It hurt! Then, in driving rain I rode home again and had a veggie sausage sandwich.