Whenever I walk by the sea I have to walk in it. It doesn't matter how cold it is, how rough the waves are, how stony the pebbles, I have to take off my shoes and get into the water. It can be a genuine pain not to be able to get wet. That's what the sea is for. There's no point at all being by the sea if you cannot get in.
Some years ago I was in Australia, all ready to swim. My friends, Australian nationals, came down to the water's edge with me. It was a lovely day, the sun was shining, yes, it was winter in Australia but have you tried the Solent in summer? There was no-one in the water. All the more for me, I thought.
But no, it was not to be. 'The sea is full of bluebottles' my friends assured me. Bluebottles? Large flies wearing football boots like at home? No - bluebottles are the early stage of the Portuguese Man of War Jellyfish and they sting like - well, they sting. So I wasn't allowed in. There I was, in Oz, with sand and surf and the water and I couldn't go in.
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