Angie was down at her caravan at Bantham, and invited us down for an afternoon dip. We walked through the clouds of young cow parsley and down to the pink thatched boathouse, where the river was a slim green twist. It was nearly low tide, but the water was still moving down towards the sea at a fairly brisk old pace. There were the usual cries of protest as we plunged in (the sea is taking a long time to warm up this year, to be fair) and it proved pretty impossible to swim against the current up river. We waded and dragged ourselves for a while, and it was wonderful to have visibility again after the murky winter seas; we saw mussels, cockles, and lots of swaying bladderwrack below. Then it was time to turn and be taken by the current, in what is generally known as the "Bantham swoosh". You don't realise how fast you're going until you put your face in and watch the underwater landscape racing along underneath you. We were carried along until we suddenly reached an eddy, where we span around for a while, like children on a merry go round.