Some rejuvenation

Saturday, 3 October

Now that I have got over the headcold (which was so awful I stayed home from school on Tuesday... and missed church for Michaelmas), I suppose it is time to get outside again whilst the weather still allows it. The day was expected to be cloudy but when Jessy and I awoke it was actually very lovely, sunny and clear with a very light breeze and, most importantly, warm. She came in when I was washing in my bathroom. 'Are you going out?' she asked me.

'Is it warm out?' I asked back.

'Does a fish live in the water?' She giggled.

We had both slept naked and so didn't put anything on... of course. Daddy had been up early and had already skimmed the pool. He believes in doing a little each day-- he calls it is 'exercise', though he does plenty o other things too and has always been in exceptionally good shape. The pool tends to get salty, especially with the weather we have had over the last week, but when I dove in this morning it was just about perfect. Being on the eastern side of the house it warms up early in mornings, even when you don't expect it to be a warm day. The house tends to block cooler western and south western breezes and the garden wall keeps it warm close to the terrace blocks... or in the water of course.

I did my 'usual' 25 laps, 312 metres of crawl stroke. To someone who has never tried it I can only say that swimming naked in the pool-- and I mean actually swimming, not just lolling round-- has got to be the most delightful thing in the world. I have remarked to some people-- usually online, though with others too-- when they wonder if it is 'arousing', that yes, it definitely is, but I don't think they understand what the arousal is really like. I would not say it is sexual. There is that, of course, in every form of excitement, tingles in certain places, goosepimples on the chest, bottom feeling tight, legs quivering, you know how that is. But I would rather say it is physical. The physical activity of swimming pretty much dispels the pent-up energy-- you have something to do and something to concentrate on, and even if it's hard, such as it was for me round lap 18 today when I was coming off six days of rain during which I felt too awful to do much more than sleep, you cherish it. Swimming is never a burden for me. I could do it all day if my body would allow it. My record is about 125 laps of this pool, nonstop-- that's like a mile, and I only stopped when I realised it was like a mile (and yes, it was naked too). I would do more if I had nothing better to do. What I am calling arousal is that very fine little vibration you get all over your whole body, feeling the water envelop you like sweet syrup round every part, feeling the chlorine in your face as you pump arm-over-arm, feeling it sweep by you and break round every leading-edge of your body as though you are sleek shiny porpoise perfectly at-home in your favourite environment. And yes, your heart quickens and your skin creeps with something like arousal, but it's everything together. It does NOT make me feel horny. It makes me feel acutely alive. That's the best way to describe it.

Mother came out, with little J.J. and some gardening things, and Jessy and I spent maybe half an hour going round the gardens that surround our pool pulling leaves and other bits out of where they do not belong. J.J. teased Jessy about being bare, as he often does, and in the course of her labours Jessy had to crawl in past the bluebells she ended up right on her tummy in the loamish soil and emerged blotted with bits of it all over her. 'Ha-ha,' J.J. taunted. 'You've got it on your....' And he pointed.

Jessy giggled, looking down at herself. I won't say where it had got to-- but it wasn't anywhere most people have to worry about getting dirty! She stood there blotting things off herself and J.J. was only pointing. 'Im a mess,' Jessy said.

'There's more,' he said, pointing. She bent farther and looked. 'On your....'

'Just say "crutch",' she said gently to him, and I saw her pulling a little stick out of her maidenhair. J.J. wrinkled his nose at her. 'It's only part of me,' Jessy said in that sweet tone.

'Why is it fuzzy?'

Jessy only laughed. 'Because it is. It's what God wants me to look like. You know that.'

He nodded-- he has heard that before. 'Well this is what God wants me to look like.'

Of course J.J. does not go in for our girlish antics. Today he was working in the yard with blue jeans having big thick patches on the knees, a Batman t-shirt and an important-looking black canvas belt with a few packets of this and that and his water-pistol mounted on it. He takes work seriously, you know. 'And you are very sharp and handsome,' she said, and bent down and kissed his head. 'I am glad I have such a good brother.'

He shivered from the kiss and turned to go back to where Mother was weeding a little.

Later in the afternoon it became cloudy and I came up here and typed a little. I have had this awful assignment on the Norman conquest to do and it's been dragging so long-- my first draught was rejected my the teacher for not having enough sources. I learned all this when I was at HOH! --why do I have to cite sources when it's just common knowledge. But my history teacher does not have the benefit of having gone to school in England. It's different there. Would you have to cite sources to say that the Declaration of Independence was signed in Philadelphia?

Round 3.00 I heard an airplane coming in low over the Bay out back. Daddy was out back raking down by the water and cried out, 'Holy cow! Look at this!' I bounded up and ran to the window. At that moment an old-fashioned biplane went buzzing right by the house, about 100 feet off the water and barely 300 yards from my window. It pulled up just north of us and circled round above the fishing wharf, and we could hear it going round again past the road. 'Wow,' I said.

Below me, Jessy emerged-- fortunately with a shirt on-- and I grabbed mine off the chair and ran down to the little parlour. Out in the garden Daddy had his mobile phone up, taking pictures. The airplane wasn't exactly circling us, you know-- he was just buzzing the general neighbourhood, but I knew Daddy wanted to take pictures for two reasons. One was because it was an amazing sight-- when was the last time any of us saw a 70-year-old airplane fly by like this? And the other reason was that the pilot was technically breaking the law-- flying too low and performing what could be called stunt flying over a populated area (if you can call our road 'populated'!). So his pictures would get the airplane's number. The airplane went wide round the whole community and then went round way south of us, dropping down low again and buzzed straight up the bay, very low this time, ripping right by our house. Jessy and I stood holding our arms folded in front of ourselves, mainly to keep our cover-up shirts closed (hah!) and Daddy stood with his arm extended snapping pictures. The pilot looked out for a split second and waved. I think maybe he thought Daddy was waving, but then he must have realised that he was taking pictures and just blew out of sight around to the north and west of us, towards the airport actually, maybe feeling worried that with the pictures we could report him. That's Daddy's way-- if there is anything that could be taken as a threat to our security here, he will counter with a kind of offence against the offender. This is how he has dealt with invasive paparazzi all these years and it's actually enabled us to live a pretty normal life.

After that bit of excitement Jessy and I came back in, because it was getting chilly. I had socks on for a while. Josie came over after supper and the three of us, and Lisa, went down stairs to watch Branagh's 'Much Ado' (Jessy's choice). It was a pleasant day, all the more so because it was the first nice day I've had since before I got sick. I only hope tomorrow will be better.

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