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Ireland has astonished me by providing the fourth day of clear cloudless sunlight in a row. Instead of going to the gym, I stayed abed an extra hour, got up and did a few reps with my dumbbells, and then Mum and I made for Skerries, where the water is deep.

Deep and cold and clear, swimming off the steps layered over the rock of the headland and not off the beach. The water still as milk, a haze out past the islands; several swimmers including a bouncy black retriever. Long strands of weed reaching up for one's ankles, and a handful of tiny fish. And the sunlight, hot on the back of your neck while every other part goes numb and tingling.

It was gloriously cold. Getting in, I flinched quite a lot: the worst part is always the knees and then when the sea hits your waist. Cold enough to give you a headache when you dive. I was twenty-five minutes in the water and I didn't want to leave.

Thalatta! Thalatta! The sea! The sea!

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