This is a self-indulgence that I indulge in only rarely. But when I do, I wish I indulged more often. It produces the very best of highs, but the building up to it is hard work. Still, it's worth it - and here is how to get it.
First, take off whatever you are wearing.
Next, in most circumstances, replace it with a swimsuit.
Rub your eyes, yawn loudly. For - sorry, forgot to mention it - this is first thing in the morning, with only the faintest light in the sky and a chill still hanging in the air.
Then set out, clutching a towel and knowing you are mad.
We are talking here, you'll have guessed, about the early-morning swim. It is best at the seaside, somewhere in Britain or Europe, with the rest of the family in bed and a gentle, milky swell. The water seems cleaner than at any other time - though it can't, I suppose, really be. You plunge in, shudder for a few moments, then strike out. Or, in more normal times, you find a river, pond or swimming pool. My local baths at Richmond do an early- morning session outdoors in the summer, which is bliss. But indoors is all right. Best of all is a clean pond - even the smelly Hampstead ones have their adherents - or a little stream.
Yes, I know this sounds like masochism rather than self-indulgence. But I swear, there is no feeling of physical and mental wonder like the one you get from an early-morning dip. Or at least afterwards, once you are out and wrapped cosily in that towel. Also, you have lost so much weight that you can go straight home and eat the biggest breakfast served outside America - crusty bread, croissants, thick rashers of bacon, three fried eggs and a pint of milky coffee . . . and still be thinner. Er, honest.
