High Tide 10:11 (2.60m)
Low Tide 16:18 (0.60m)
High Tide 22:37 (2.60m)
Sea temperature: not taken
Sea conditions: calm, grey
Joined by: The Poet and TBC (The Bridge Captain has been shortened, not sure how she'll feel about that), and Sara keeping watch
Topics of conversation:
DK's apology to TBC - he'd forgotten to let her know we've moved to WST (Winter Swim Time) and was very sorry. Poor old TBC had arrived at normal time and wondered where we all were as she'd missed the announcement yesterday. DK and The Pirate had made and executive decision as it's so dark these days. This morning I'm not sure it would have made a difference, it was dark grey and looks to stay that way.
There was then one of those sequences of conversations, the likes of which never happens anywhere other than first thing in the morning on the beach, and only when we have the DK/Pirate/Poet combination. The Pirate admitted that he'd confused Tom Daley and Daley Thompson, thinking it was Daley Thompson who had come out online. The Poet then told a joke about Camels, whose punchline was "Of course it's a female camel, I'm not queer", DK tried in vain to stop him, but he was on a roll. DK then accused him of being very 1950's and we all looked at The Pirate, who I accused of being very 1890's, which he took as a compliment.
DK is still getting over his charity event in London at the weekend, when he and his friend Maureen had been booked to entertain with song and humour. It had been a total trial for DK, having set off at 6.30 am and not getting on stage till 11.30pm. Legs had posted the following on Facebook by way of explanation:
So, report from London: DK got talked into performing his Christmas song with Maureen at a charity do last night at Leicester Square Theatre in aid of New Orleans Jazz Musicians Affected by Hurricane Katrina, or something worthy, produced by Harry Shearer and wife, also performing (rather lengthily in fact). Also Kiki Dee, Rob Bryden, Jaqui Dankworth. Others. Show didn't start until 10:15 PM. No sandwiches backstage. No coffee, no tea. No water. No expenses. No cabs home. DK and Maureen, she in high heels, trotting along Oxford St to 1:30 in the morning for one and a half hours, no cabs to be found.
TBC and I usually go to an exercise class on Tuesday with my Arctic team-mate Mark, but dear Mark, in preparation for his Marathon De Sables has overdone it and exacerbated his old problems with his back following his helicopter accident in his RAF days. He ended up in hospital at the weekend, so certainly won't be making the LOTV's jump about today. Get well soon Mark.
Sara and I discussed the recent murmurations over the marshes, which have been spectacular. I'd missing most of the best one at the weekend, trying to race down to a view point in time, but their house has amazing views and they seen a corkscrew tower of starlings. Yesterday they'd been very keen to roost and hadn't 'murmured' much but I'd been on the marsh till dark, where I'd met a young man with cameras, who had come all the way from Dereham in Norfolk to see them. I think I'd also spotted one of The Artist's friends down on the path, but those of us who hang about on the marsh at dusk tend to ignore fellow shifting shapes in the gloom in case we scare each other, it's an unwritten rule that you just walk in silence, only acknowledging each other if you pass. Here's a little clip of the birds rushing to roost last night.