We met Tim (He whose rib I previously defiled) and went out night swimming.  A 9pm start we went off to the Sutton end of Dublin bay to jump into the sea of a spot of night swimming.  Not the “drunk-fun-naked-night-swimming-of-youth”, more the “terrifying-middle-of-the-irish-sea-whatthefuckwasthat-night-swimming-of-madness.”

The team was in high spirits, apart from savagely cold feet from a bout of welly wearing.  This was agreed by all to be a mistake.  If it is a sunny day when we get to go (or more properly not a rainy night), runners will be in order.

All five of the team got in before me and looked confident, strong swimming by everyone.  Those fuckers.  There is really nothing like a strong display from your teammates to put it up to you.  I stripped off 5 minutes before I was due to get in and even though it is a cliché, it really is warmer in the water than on the boat.  I froze standing there in my tightie-greenies.

I hopped in the water, and started to swim.  If any of you are planning this, here are Con’s-toptips© for a happy night swim:

I am finding myself exposed to more smells recently.  They tend to be working against me, swimming has made my nose my enemy.  Some of this is my own fault.  The smells I am going to talk about are largely, but not exclusively, exercise derived.

My gym bag.  I unpacked my gym bag fully last night.  Some people may do this daily, some weekly, some longer.  Unfortunately for my nose (and as it transpires my hygiene), I fall into the longer category.

I found:

One towel,
One pair of togs.
6 swim hats
2 pairs of goggles
1 pair of headphones for a phone I no longer use
1 pair of flip-flops
1 mashed banana

Now, the more eagle-eyed among you may spot the odd-one-out (clue: it’s not the headphones).  What makes this worse is I was merrily unpacking my bag, and then ugh! hand straight into the mother load.  My god it stank.  I sterilised my bag and flip-flops and made a mental note to eat any bananas I put in my bag that day, or at least before they migrate to the bottom of my bag and rot.

One notable absence from the bag is the sports towel (or chamois, as the Garganator refers to it).  I haven’t used it in a while, and you store it wet.  To be honest, I am a little apprehensive about taking the lid off its canister.  I predict a horrendous stink.  I think that I’ll deal with it tonight.  No time like the present, it truly is a quality bit of swimming paraphernalia and I can’t wait to start using it again.

The sea itself.  The sea smells.  Smells sea-like? Salty? Briny? And occasionally very, very bad indeed.  Sometimes I am swimming along and I get a whiff of, a whiff of…well a smell that says to some primal part of your brain that you shouldn’t be swimming through this.  Smells do this, your body reacts at an instinctual level and goes “move faster buddy, this isn’t good water.”  I am learning to listen with my nose.

Myself.  I constantly stink of three things; chlorine, salt or sweat.  Sometimes a mixture of all three.  Chlorine seems to be particularly insidious (a quick google tells me chlorine is odourless and that what I am actually smelling is chloramines.  For God sake, don’t look these up if you are planning on getting into a pool soon), and leaves a lasting after shower smell.  So I have bought man-fume.  Not really ever buying into the man-perfume market (blue stratos as a young, young man, a brief flirtation with Paco, and an acquaintance with Calvin Klien aside), I have decided on the one for me.  L'eau D'Issey Intense Cologne For Men by Issey Miyake. 

Now, I understand the traditional cologne buying technique for men goes something like this: Your wife, partner or mother goes to a shop, decides they like the smell of something and buys it for you.  I went a different route, and here’s why.  I visited a perfume factory in a previous job, and discovered that the way perfumes are manufactured is that a designer puts a concept out to tender, perfume companies manufacture a scent to what they think the designer’s vision is, he smells it (“Not enough woodland spirit!”) and then picks a winner.  Then perfume goes into manufacturing to become CKone or whatever.

I read the concept behind Miyake’s ‘vision’:
A captivating new fragrance from Issey Miyake, L'Eau D'Issey Intense cologne is the epitome of elegance. Building on the spicy notes of the original L'Eau D'Issey Pour Homme, Intense brings the fresh cologne to a new level. Imagine a stream of water that continues to change its course and gain power. The masculinity and warmth of Intense illustrates water's force like never before. L'Eau D'Issey Intense cologne sparkles with its citrus, spicy and woody scent. Notes include Mandarin, Yuzu, Bergamot, Nutmeg, Saffron, Cardamom, Black Incense, Ambergris.

You are a better person than me if you didn’t need to look up Yuzu and Bergamot.  Unfortunately, I know that ambergris is whale-vomit (although wikipedia tells me it is actually whale shit, only bits that are too large to exit are vomited out).

The concept alone wasn’t enough.  In the magazine I was reading on the aeroplane, the perfumiers talked about Miyake being a recluse, how they never met him and how they’d receive a mandate from his go-to guys.  This general weirdness, coupled with an undeniably sexy photo of Miyake and my general fetish for Japan pushed me toward his product.

I still would have been too cheap to buy it, if my wife hadn’t gone to the duty free and bought it for me.  In fairness to me, I tried a squirt of both the pour homme and the pour homme intense. I preferred the intense, a big musky sillage. 

I had to look that up too.