no work for tinkers hands part 1

Summer solstice 2014. 6.45 pm.

Hanako, is, by quite a margin, the best restaurant in Watford (which description really doesn't do the place any justice at all, but will have to suffice). I am resigned to another day of channel training of the non swimming variety.

I've just ordered edamame beans, rainbow roll, three types of sushi, and the obligatory spicy seafood ramen (medium hot). Not to mention vegi tempura. Which makes me sound even more gluttonous than I actually am.

Time must have a stop

The phone rings. It is Neil, the pilot of my channel boat.

An American, Willie Schultz, was out in the channel in Neil's boat SUVA earlier. I watched his track and when the boat turned back at about 1pm I thought there was a slight chance that I would get a call today.

At 6 I had decided that Neil wouldn't ring me.

Neil is saying we could maybe go Sunday morning at 4am ish. He's going to check the weather and get back to me in an hour. Great. I wonder whether sushi is the best pre swim food. That aside, I decide that you can't really go wrong with a great big steaming bowl of chilli ramen.

I call my crew to see how everyone's set.

They're all packed and ready to go.

A cautionary note about romanticising a channel swim. Burned out drug addled ex hippy bum that I am, I had a weird idea that midsummer day was preordained for my swim. So the day after was the next best thing. Obviously. Hmmm.

I hear Jeremy's words, "It's already in the can."

Being new to this channel swimming malarkey I didn't really take care to notice the signs. The hour Neil takes to ring back is one of the longest hours I have experienced. Admittedly that's partly because it's well over two hours.

So I ring him. He'd wanted to talk to a few other pilots and people about the weather and what they were going to do, he says. As a matter of fact there's one of them trying to ring him right now. Could he ring me back in a few minutes?

The 'best' boat for the channel

Sure. Why not? An hour later he does call back. Says the wind is North Easterly not very strong. What do I think? It is my swim after all. Monday might be slightly better. Or it might not. It is a gamble. Tuesday and the rest of the week is probably going to get quite a bit worse.


Being asked what I think about conditions by one of the best channel pilots there is, should have alarm bells at least tinkling slightly.

It's a bit like me as a roofing expert with more than a quarter century of experience asking a new home owner who has almost never looked at a roof whether they think the fixing intervals, clips, laps, upstands and weight of lead on their various dormers and bay roofs are sufficient to withstand the prevailing weather conditions at their expected levels of exposure. "It's your house mate, what do you reckon?"

I ask Neil what all this means for my swim. He says a north easterly is colder than other winds. It's 3 to 4 knots so pretty minor though. I wonder why there is an air of caution in Neil's voice (but naturally, don't ask).

The biggest factor in my mind is ending the dangling 'channel swim of Damocles' state of affairs. Rather let it fall than endure weeks more of that excruciating torture.

If you think I sound melodramatic now, and it irks you- stop reading now. I can assure you, that it will only get worse.

I enjoy my exquisite Japanese meal as only a condemned man on the way to the gallows can. Then skulk off home to pack my bag and mix my feed. I have elected to use powdered maltodextrin as I have on previous swims, but without the addition of sickly tasting fruit cordial which I can no longer stand.

At this point you might wonder why I am not enraptured at the prospect of my long awaited day in the channel. If I were a tad less filled with dread at this moment I might wonder at this too. But I don't.

Early doors. For these beautiful and happy people, hope springs eternal.

A week previous when I briefed my crew (at the Thai Orchid) I told them that my feed would be unsweetened double strength Maxi diluted 50% with hot water to be fed at 45 minute intervals for the first 3 hours then 30 minutes thereafter. Occasional little pieces of banana, tinned peach slices, fun sized milky way if I really want them. Maybe a jelly baby every now and then. Ibuprofen on 4 hour intervals if my shoulder starts hurting.

I speak to Neil one more time where he tells me that we will meet at 3.15 am at Dover Marina. He'll make some calls then call me back to confirm. I decide not to wait up.

An hour and a half of feverish and fitful sleep. I'm up at midnight making espresso and chopping bananas for a bowl of porridge. Jez pulls up just before 1pm and we collect Ruth and Alexia. Roger meets us there.

Waiting in the carpark at Dover Marina I secretly hope that since he didn't call back last night, Neil will simply not turn up. I console myself with the thought that, usually, the waiting is the worst part. I centre myself and try to ignore the histrionics of some of my team- it is a big day for them after all.