Nightswimming deserves a quiet night
I’m not sure all these people understand
It’s not like years ago
– Nightswimming, R.E.M
No, I haven’t been nightswimming. It’s far too cold and even I’m not that stupid. Besides, the beck here isn’t deep enough to paddle in never mind swim. But I have been out, in the cold, crisp darkness, walking and enjoying the night.
Nothing quiets my mind like walking through deserted streets when everyone else is tucked up in bed. It’s so peaceful, not a soul to be seen, no traffic and only the occasional hoot of an owl for company.
And it really is gorgeous here, who could resist the old buildings caught in a combination of moonlight and streetlight? Not me.
K used to have a book called The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark (available here, or from any good bookshop) and in each chapter Plop, an endearing baby barn owl who longed to be a day bird, would find out why people liked the dark. Dark, Plop learned, was kind, exciting, fascinating, beautiful. And, with a little help from a black cat called Orion, eventually Plop learned to love the dark.
And so do I.