Sunderland Swim

Travelling across the Northern end of England is always an experience on a lot of levels. Northumberland is a stark mix of urban conglomeration and wild boggy grazing; high Pennines then down to a rocky coast-line; swirling fog and rain and sheltered sunny valleys. And underpinning this, the mystery and history of Romans to Reivers walking the upland mists. The journey to the Sunderland Eye Infirmary takes in all of this and today was particularly beautiful with May blossom and cow-parsley adding scent and pollen and sneezes to the warm haze of the morning. 
On the way we stopped at Haltwhistle - purportedly the very centre of England - if you consider being mid-way along the country's longest  line of longitude counts. Meriden near Coventry would hotly dispute this, as would Morton in Derbyshire, Clitheroe in Lancashire or indeed a small piece of sea-bed in the middle of Morecambe Bay, as they all use markedly different criteria to back up their bids for centrality. My money is currently on Haltwhistle as parking and public loos are free and Jethro's Cafe on the main street sells a mean bacon buttie! 
After the appointment it seemed a shame to travel straight back so we went down to Roker beach where my sister,  basked in misty sunlight and her sunglasses, after the dilating eye-drops, did not look out of place. The tide was out with a long curl of white wave hitting the sandy beach, to the left of the lighthouse, so I attempted a swim. In fact, more like entering the fast cycle of a washing machine, all froth, whirl and beat and spin and eventually a regurgitation back onto the beach. 
With the sun's warmth the sand was steaming gently as I walked back, which blurred its surface into soft wavering undulations, and seemed to go well with the sighing echo of my water-filled ears. 
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