I glanced at this sculpture as I rushed on towards the Gherkin. That was when I thought I noticed that something was missing.
On my way back, I slowed down and took a closer look. The cockerel was gone. All that remained was the pile of grey fibreglass rocks where he used to stand.
To doublecheck I walked around to the other side of the sculpture, drips of rain icing down inside the neck of my coat. But there was still no sign of him, although I could see the edge of the stand where he once stood on the top rock.
I paused, wondering. The plaque describing Pittu Pithu Pitoo as ‘made of fibreglass and garden ornament’ was still there, and it still listed its creator as Simeon Barclay. Just one problem – the ‘ornament’ – the cockerel – was not still there.
I took a photograph and left, hoping that the internet would help me. But the cockerel doesn’t seem to be there either. So where has he gone, with his chest out, and his feathers fine, telling the world exactly how he feels?
I was asked today if I would go back to a petrol car? My instant reply was ‘no’. Of course, if circumstances changed I might have to, but it is not in my plan right now.
The reason the question was asked was that I was describing a trip I’d just done. Instead of three and a half hours, it had taken four and a half hours due to charging the car en route. It sounded frustrating but it wasn’t. I’d taken along work to do, and discovered the InstaVolt charger was available when I got to the pre-chosen charging spot. InstaVolt, by the way, has a simple tap and untap method of payment. After way too many stressed out sessions at charging points needing mysterious apps I’ve decided InstaVolt is the way forward.
Anyway, back to that trip’s charging session. The InstaVolt charger I used was one of a pair positioned at the end of a carpark on the edge of the A303 near Honiton. At the other end of the carpark was the Brightside Diner. It was my second stop at the diner, and it still felt cheery and clean so while my car hummed away outside I had a pot of tea, and some delicious pancakes with blueberries, yoghurt, granola and maple syrup. In the end I stayed for just under an hour, thankful that rather than being in the draughty, neon-lit, soulless belly of a service station I was able to sit in a warm, quiet space and watch the morning sun fall in folds across the autumn flecked fields of Devon.
That for me is the bright side of travel with an EV. If I hadn’t needed a charging point, I would have been in and out of a service station, hands full of petrol, head full of fumes, clutching a coffee to go.
On a winter’s morning of wind and gusting rain, I watched a ‘wild swimmer’ come in from the sea. I asked her a few questions. Here are her answers.
“Keeps me sane. It’s my moment. You’re out in nature, and have no idea what conditions are going to meet you. And no-one can get hold of you. You are alone with your thoughts in the water. It’s very meditative.”
How often do you go? Where do you go? When do you go? How do you swim when it’s so cold?
“Once a day at least, every day. Varies according to conditions. In Denmark I swim all year. If it’s icy my swims are shorter. If I’m in good condition and feeling strong, I can do more. I have to listen to my body. One day I can swim far, but the next day if I’m tired, or stressed, or haven’t slept well, or haven’t eaten well, I can’t do it. I like to be in my depth when it gets below ten degrees, and the colder it gets the more mentally aware I have to be. I have to know whether or not I can still touch finger to thumb. When I get out I feel fabulous, but lasts max five minutes, and in that time I have to get dressed and warm. First thing is to put something on my head. Best thing once I’m dressed is to have hot tea so I can warm from the inside out. Sometimes I’m shaking so much I can’t lift the cup to my mouth. I only wear a wetsuit if I’m swimming over a kilometer or in an event. I’m entering an event in January. I’ll only swim 25m.”
Did you do cold water training before you started this swimming?
“No. You pick this info up. I prefer summer swimming, but I enjoy the winter. If conditions are bad I’ll always try to be with someone. I go swimming at about seven in the morning.”
Who else is out there when you go swimming in Denmark?
“It’s fantastic because the age range is from teens to 88 year olds. Anyone can do it, and any shape. It’s a very inclusive sport. Both men and women are out there all through the year. In the long distance swimming it’s a fairly even mix too.”
Do you enjoy it?
“It’s fantastic. I can do it anywhere – the sea, a river, a lake. The best bit is being able to swim from somewhere to somewhere … and that anyone mad enough to do it can join in.”
The Phraser 