Swimming in the sea is my favourite thing

TO say I am not a sporty person is an understatement of some magnitude. I hate playing sports, my face looks like an angry turnip pulled from the earth after approximately 30 seconds of high-intensity exercise. But there are two things I love which could be counted, if not as sports, then at least as physical activity — any type of walking and swimming in the sea.

The distinction in the latter is important (to me). I hate indoor swimming pools. The smell of chlorine, the threat of verrucas, the foul concept of verruca socks and the injustice of swimming hats are too much, but the freedom, excitement and thrill of the sea is addictive.

Some of my clearest and happiest memories are being in the sea, floating on my back looking up at the sun or getting the life kicked out of me by waves in Kerry. There was one time when I got stung on the foot by a jellyfish and my big toenail fell off 24 hours later. But I’ve forgiven him and moved on.

Also, unlike your Reformer Pilates class, swimming in the sea is free. All you need is the ocean — access to which is pretty easy unless you live in Birr or Longford, in which case, frankly you have bigger problems. JOKING. You just need a pair of togs and some mettle. On swimwear — a word of warning: you will need something sturdy with decent straps if you are going to avoid the double humiliation of getting knocked over by a wave and then jumping up enthusiastically to show everyone you are OK only to look down in horror and see both boobs flapping freely and your bikini top heading in the direction of the Americas.

True story, and sincere apologies to all on Derrynane beach that day.