1. It’s the first time that, even with neoprene gloves on, my fingers become frozen within seconds. The water is cold enough that we had to crackle through the frozen swollen edges before easing down into the river itself, and although I recite the winter swimming mantra within a stroke or two (‘Hey, it’s not too bad’) both hands are already sharply cold to the bone, and dressing afterwards takes a lot of huffing into cupped hands to allow me to do up my laces, stuff everything back in the bag. It’s been worth it, this winter, ditching my wetsuit jacket and just swimming in summer kit of running leggings and sports bra — I like a lighter backpack, and the sense that I’m really feeling the cold of the water, as much as I feel the warmth in June and July. And this winter in the river has given us so many pleasures already: the Geminid meteor showers filling the still clear sky in mid-December and reflecting in the water; a shooting star streaking across Christmas morning, in a silent dark rushing world empty even of the usual occasional early worker; a New Year’s Day hushed gathering, knowing at any moment such a cluster would become illegal; floods that mean we wade shin-deep towards the bank edge, and lower ourselves into the small bay, swimming hard to stay in place against the current. 

This morning we run back through hard, bright snow, our footsteps loud, my feet numb. I run to my waking house down a street where only a handful of months ago I would circle the block on my bicycle, round and round and round at this same hour, the light pink and orange, the doves and pigeons cooing at my damp hair, the air already warm enough to send me back to sleep, not wanting yet to wake the house, not wanting yet to end this coral-coloured silence. 

2. The main soundtrack of the last year has been John Finnemore: either his Souvenir Programme or Cabin Pressure, at least one of which is playing at any given time in the house on any given day. Between him and Kate Beaton’s comics, I feel like at least the housemates are getting some education in classics, history, politics, literature, geography, and comedy. When not molding impressionable minds with my own tastes, I’ve been listening to Tim Key’s Late Night Poetry Programme and In and Out of the Kitchen on headphones, escapist little windows into a different life. Diverse my listening may not be, but brilliant, amusing and comforting it very much is. 

3. Can I recommend this particular episode of Reply All? I very much like Alex Blumberg’s clear and constructive riposte to Alex Goldman’s climate defeatism: we are not done yet, but there’s hard work to do and we need to crack on. Hope may be tiring, but it exists for a reason. Speaking of which, this episode of Soul Music is food for the spirit. 

4. A housemate has made this a few times since receiving the Simple book for Christmas, and my goodness it’s good. 

5. I hope you’re all well. Keep writing to your MP about environmental concerns, NHS concerns, schooling and jobs and housing and the flawed legal system and data collection and employee rights and all of this country’s major inequalities. Courage, mes braves. x