Foam, sweet foam

Air temperature 22 deg C, water temperature 10 deg C, which is now comfortingly into 2 digits, very arbitrary of course, because in Farenheit it has been in 2 digits since minus 20 C, but it is just a little lift and it feels like summer is arriving, at long last.

I wish my camera was working - there would be some sumptuous shots of the clear skies of Berwickshire this morning, and the duvet of haar mist covering the sea to the horizon and nestling up to the edges of the cliffs, fluffing and filling the bays and warming the toes of Torness power station. The mist gradually cleared and left one of those silky days where the sea blends into the sky and invites a dip.

I could hear the waves crashing on the rocks before I saw them - the "Ladies" was surrounded by breakers  and Green End Gully at 5pm was infested with snorkellers, 2 no., whom I forgave when they chatted helpfully. They had been in "The Ladies" with just fins, masks, and snorkels, to me it looked like Scyllla and Charybdis. They said it was full of bubbles, but I decided to go in the Gully, ouching because I had forgotten my sea shoes which protect my poor feet and their lumpy ganglions from sharp pebbles on the way in and out. The water felt a tiny bit warmer that last week, so I didn't follow my full improvised hakka/bushido routine to get my blood up and scare myself into the water. Other Half says this ritual is not intimidating, but rather funny.

The water was seething in eddies around the rocks and was covered in foam, I found myself inside a Heston Blumenthal dish, this is the fish course I had on my birthday; "Sound of the Sea", acompanied by a shell which contained an MP3 player and had earphones to listen to the sounds of waves on a beach.  You would have to try the dish to get the full effect, or try a dip in Green End Gully after a Northerly blow, snacking on floating bits of sea-lettuce as they come close.

While I was swimming, Bob the greyhound was trying hard to keep an eye on me - but he was on the grass in the sunshine so he was nodding off, as he was sitting there, lurching awake when his head lolled.  I swam to and fro for about 15 minutes, thinking that lengths in a swimming pool never felt as good as this, gasping with the waves smacking my face and floating on the tow of the sea moving towards the shore and then out towards the open sea. The swimming mask is a great thing, I have almost 180 degree vision which is good when I am worried about Porbeagles. I saw one last summer off Heugh Ness, quite a distinctive shape and motion, just not mistakeable for anything else. As I walked back up the rocks to the way home I saw a small boat out in the bay and thought how lovely it looked, it was then that OH rang to say that it was him in that little boat and was going to catch something for supper. He is out with the retired smoke-house owner; I think they set off with Mustad feathers so I will be interested to see what they catch.

On the way home I told Bob the Greyhound that I thought that days were not much better than this- a happy but poignant thing to consider, so to add to my joy, I had a whisky and ginger when I got home and put on some cool and groovy tunes. Other Half brought home the bacon, or fish, rather, in the form of a bucket of coal-fish, or coley so I heated up some new potatoes in a bit of butter. Coley is what posh southern ladies feed their cats. I enjoyed "woman with cats" translated as "spinster", I think it was the writers on Have I Got News For You, words delivered by Kathy Burke.  Anyway, coley when cooked, does not go bright white so is a bit of a hurdle for conservative eaters - it's more like mackerel in appearance, but more like cod in taste, but oh, so mild. I'm going to leave the other half bucketful in the fridge to see if it matures like a flat fish.

Note to self: must stop doing punny post titles. Not big or clever.