Back in the days when I still lived at home, my sibling and I used to define spring’s arrival by jumping in the sea the day after Easter, no matter how early or late Easter fell in the year.
One year especially, was a particularly stormy day but it was the day after Easter, therefore we had to jump in. There is a picture of my best friend’s daughter when she was about four, all bundled up in her overall, gloves and hat and us crazy people crouching next to her in our swimsuits wrapped up in a towel. I don’t think she quite understood our logic behind the swim, and looking back at it I don’t think I do either.
It was a long time since we did this and I don’t fancy much jumping in the Thames to continue the tradition.