A stolen May Day swim, afternoon turning into evening. From the water the sun seems to be shooting rays over my shoulder, the wind chilling my bones through the green-clear surface. The storm cloud which blew angrily a few moments ago duels with the bright evening’s intentions. Cantons blast forth from beyond the darkness, a sight so vivid I end up swimming with my head turned almost back on myself so I can keep looking at it. Beyond the water’s edge rich green leaves on early summer trees blow softly in the breeze. There’s more further away. I stay in for too long, then dive in again off the board, and on leaving the changing area shiver, having overdone it. But how could you not?