Yesterday I was tired and more than anything, I wanted to swim. I headed for the little bay next to the main sands but on the other, quieter side of the harbour wall. There was a huge digger on the ramp down to it, along with workmen in high viz jackets. I could see the head of Anthony Gormley’s figure just poking out of the water. I walked further along, found another bay, backed by a car park, but deserted. As soon as I put my bag down two men and their dogs turned up, not walking, just standing chatting. I moved on again, past the graffiti of the filled in Lido. The sky was very pale blue, the tide retreating, and I could see, even from a distance, that the water was low enough to access the tidal pool. I walked faster.
The water was green, flat, shimmering with low sun. I changed by a tangle of saw rack, walked out to the ladder and edged past a huge gull, his black tail spotted white, his yellow beak tilting towards me as I passed. I went in from the first ladder, went down till my feet hit the floor. The water reached my chest. I swum for the other side, looking ahead to the far steps, back to the chalk cliffs where I’d changed, further back to where the disused lido building that hid the town. The water was a deeper flat green up close and a cormorant flew low then tipped away. The curve of its flight and its fast flapping reminded me of a duck. It started to rain softly and all the water around me hissed.
Bonnie Radcliffe 