An excerpt from Toast travels included part of piece written by Olivia Laing about swimming – below.  After a glorious summer of swims in the Baltic, the Irish Sea, white Roscoff beaches and the good old Atlantic, I though this perfectly summed up the separate feelings of each individual experience.

Photo by Nicholas Seaton.

Seawater

 

‘All those swims – every swim I’ve ever made, in fact – are tucked away inside me like a pack of cards. Swimming on Dog Beach in Key West, where Tennessee Williams used to take his afternoon dip, in warm water the colour of Gatorade. Swimming in a rocky cove in Cap Ferrat, or over ruined houses on a tiny beach in Andros. Body surfing in Devon and dropping from rocks into water clear as jelly at the northernmost extremity of Scotland, where anemones pulsed red and pink beneath the lapping surface.’

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