Though a very effervescent New Year's Day concert crowned the afternoon of 1 January, my senior swimming companion Catherine and I were only satisfied once we'd celebrated our first dip of 2026 yesterday (3 January) - and it will be the last for a while, as this was extreme.
Yes, the sun shone on Sandycove, and it was packed, not least because people weren't prepared to risk the much more exposed Forty Foot around the corner. But a strong north wind was blowing, and any consolation I sought from folk coming out of the water that it was warmer in wasn't forthcoming. Sea temperature c. 8.5-9, outside around freezing. So, straight down the ramp within the bay and a quick swim across to the steps as two little turnstones rushed to greet my emergence. Wore sea socks and gloves, but feet felt like blocks of ice, as one old guy said of himself, and remained so until half way through our coffee and (for me veg) sausage roll at Sandycove Store and Yard.
Never seen it packed before, with much conversation about prior loss of sensation in hands/feet. But how jolly it was, and another memorable meeting with a Gleason's regular at Booterstown further warmed us up.
Frost on the bedroom window (outside, I hasten to add) at c. 9am had made me question my sanity,
and I think all those folk at Sandycove were slightly mad, especially the ones who bobbed around seemingly happily. But we did it, and the rising of the Wolf (actually waning gibbous) moon over the Bord Gáis Theatre, again from the comfort of the bedroom, made a satisfying end to daylight.
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