OK, so I’m a swimmer, by most anyone’s definition, as long as it doesn’t include flip turns. I almost always remember to pack a suit and when I forget, there are other options. So when the 80-year-olds scheduled the charge into the ocean, I was tempted. But it was smack in the middle of my no-commitment-promise-to-myself time. I did appreciate the variety of descriptions they used to entice us: “quick plunge,” “toe dip,” and especially “metaphorical swimming.”
But when I heard the water temperature (21 degrees, do the conversion if you must), the choice was clear: No ocean for me! Besides, at our B & B down the road, the Andoran House, we can swim metaphorically too. Not especially monastic, I know, but, hey, the reading material legitimizes it, not to mention our host extraordinaire, Richard.