The first time we successfully held a spoon became a lifetime of being able to feed oneself. The first time of eating sushi in my case – became a lifetime of not liking it, and others will remember the first time of eating a brussel sprout or a floret of cauliflower. The Husband can attest to the latter; he can even detect it if I sneak some into soup, like a Cauliflower Radar going off before the food even reaches his lips.

Maybe some of you born away from the ocean can remember your first time at the beach, seeing the sea stretching ahead to the horizon, having never seen much more than a bathful of water in your entire life, maybe feeling a little afraid or awed that it might swallow you up.

Credits: Unsplash; Author: Sandra Seitamaa;

Well, on a more mundane note, I had my first swim of the season today. I have been lucky enough to live in a house that has a garden and a pool. After all the high winds of late, both the garden and the pool were suffering from leaves, so I took the skimmer thingy and cleaned the pool. Then I swept round the pool to prevent any more that were lurking from entering themselves, and then swept beyond the fence of the pool, widening my search for leaves.

By the time I had done all this, I was hot and bothered to say the least. The newly cleaned pool looked quite inviting, and when the pump kicked in, and the surface became all sparkly in the sunshine, I felt oh my goodness, it’s just inviting me in.

The pool had been pretty useless for months through the winter, just somewhere that gathered leaves and had to be fed water occasionally, cleaned, and a chlorine tablet now and again. It crossed my mind that having a pool sounds fun, somewhere to frolic in the summer, somewhere to entice family and friends to visit, but best part of the time, it's just a giant puddle that can’t be ignored.

Credits: Unsplash; Author: Vinicius Benedit ;

Today was my first dip since, oh, I don’t know, maybe October. I was hot from sweeping, red in the face probably, perspiring (to heck with that nonsense about ladies glowing and men sweating), and my eyes were starting to sting as the sweat ran in rivulets from my brow.

So in I went. First feet, and a gasp. Slowly down the ladder in increments, one step at a time, and more gasping the more immersed I became. I finally got up to my waist and, for some reason, raised my arms in the air. Why did I do that? My brain had made the decision to submerge my body in cold water, but my arms were saying, 'Oh no, you don’t, one step at a time, please. I was reminded of a recent TV programme where the host described how typical Brits get into a pool or the sea, announcing ‘I am going in’ in the manner of an explorer entering a cave where surely a wild animal lurked. When in the water, we always swim about, then say ‘it's fine when you get in’ with a big smile, like we have done something heroic.

But guess what. I had barely hung out my towel and patted myself on the back for braving the cold water (and when asked, I will knock off a few degrees just to prove how brave I am), when the wind picked up again, and tomorrow will be just another day of rinse and repeat.