Why wild swimming, no I mean camping, has always been my passion

I’VE always loved wild swimming, sorry I meant camping. The exhilarating freedom of plunging into the sea, by which I mean a tent on Dartmoor, heals the soul. 

The court ruling banning this age-old English activity which I have been doing for simply ages rent my wild camping heart in two, and left me no option but to write about how special and marvellous it is, and that I do it.

When did I begin? Ah, I remember standing overlooking the lake, wondering ‘will I actually jump in?’ And no, not that, in fact wondering that as I put up my tent by the lake with ‘jump in’ being a figure of speech.

I loved it. The bracing cold, the invigorating feeling on the skin, the actually the canvas and the magical feeling of waking up to see a herd of deer outside the tent or similar. Putting on my DryRobe, which campers wear no doubt, to do yoga at sunrise.

There’s nothing like it, I imagine. Comparing it to normal camping is like comparing the thrilling experience of diving into a mountain lake with swimming at a municipal pool. That’s just the first comparison that comes to mind.

So as an evangelistic wild camper everywhere from Windermere to Bournemouth to Penzance, I will be protesting this ban. Yes, perhaps I should have protested before the court case and its publicity, but I’d forgotten how much I love it until then. I’d confused it with the other thing.

I will not be silent on the subject. In every newspaper, on your radio, on your television and your social media, I shall be proclaiming my passion for wild swimming, shit I’ve done it again, camping.

You’ve never done it? No, I imagine you haven’t. Not really the type, are you?

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Six depressing ways to get into the Blue Monday spirit

IT’S Blue Monday, the most depressing day of the year! But are you celebrating it in the right spirit or ruining it by feeling occasionally cheerful? Follow these tips: 

Go to work

Consider yourself lucky to have a job? Trudge to the office to realise how wrong you are. Not only is your role largely meaningless, but you’re so woefully underskilled that you’re unable to get a better one. Extinguish any remaining glimmer of happiness by looking at your last payslip.

Check your smart meter

You’ve already spunked six quid today and all you’ve done is boil the kettle and charge your phone. How much will you piss away when it hits freezing and you let yourself down by putting the heating on? Energy bills aren’t coming down either. Wholesale gas is. Bills aren’t.

Browse a dating app

Determining your position on the sexual marketplace is unfailingly demoralising. An hour failing to get a match of anyone in your league resigns you to not even being ill-judged one night stand material. In a relationship? A quick scan of hopeless single bios will still bring your mood right down.

Go for a walk

Avoid spending lunch with hated colleagues by nipping out for a quick walk in the freezing cold beneath a sky that resolutely refuses to get lighter. Walk past the closed shops, the charity shops, the vape shops. It begins raining or worse, snowing. Buy a stale sandwich.

Stalk schoolfriends on social media

What’s that freak from maths class up to these days? A quick trawl through Facebook reveals he’s quad-biking in Cuba with his jacked-up physique and gorgeous wife. He probably checks in on your dismal profile to cheer himself up. He’s probably doing it now.

Watch some TV

You’re home. It’s cold. You flick through the offerings on telly, none of which inspire. You plunge into some prestige shit on streaming which transpires to be boring shite. Chasing a quick high, you watch half of Love Island but can’t begin to care, and finish with the slow poison of News At Ten. That was your Blue Monday!