Waterlog Reswum


“I was on my way south from Edinburgh along the Northumbrian coast, where I came to the sands of Bamburgh beach, once trodden by the early Celtic Christians from Iona. In a flat calm sea I took a long, cold–water swim straight out towards the Farne Islands, almost hidden in the lead grey mist.” Keeley and I each suck on an extra strong mint proffered by the taxi driver as the car… Read More