Yesterday's swim turned out to be a series of failed attempts.
4pm, earlier than the August swims. To the Weir (usual spot - see previous blog posts), past *dozens* of walkers on the path. Not a good thing in my book. A few boats including an odd looking narrowboat with a tall flue moored up at the Manor Inn beer garden.
Ugh what's this? Mystery oil slick on the water was off-putting, and spent ages inspecting it from the bank (bet it was out of the leaky engine of the antique narrowboat having passed through earlier), and then when I'd made the decision to go in anyway (Water: 14ºC), an angler turned up and stood right there casting, which put me off again. I asked him about whether he's noticed the oil slick. "Tench, perch sometimes", came the reply, in a sort of Polish accent. er, let's try again.
Cycled along the towpath to the secret upstream spot, well beyond the reach of boats. Which wasn't that secret: occupied by 2 or more boisterous yooofs yelling at each other. And that was the allotted hour gone. Still, it was a fairly nice randonée.
I'll tell you about Swim 11 when I get a chance. In-tress-ting.
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