There is no minutae too trivial for the land of internet blogs. And so, bearing that in mind, I had my first cold shower of the year yesterday.
Why so notable? Don’t know. It’s a thing. It had been a hot day, I’d been out for a jog, and so I decided to turn the cold tap on full and the hot tap on not at all. It was as cold, not as ice because then it would’ve literally been ice, but as cold as water not very much warmer than ice. It was almost painful.
But the reason I do it is that, firstly, it feels marvellous. Makes you feel all fresh, hearty, tingly and super-awake, like you’ve just woken up as Brian Blessed. Which is quite a feeling, as I’m sure Brian Blessed would confirm.
(ALARM CLOCK SOUNDS.)
(BRIAN BLESSED SITS BOLT UPRIGHT AND LOUDLY PROCLAIMS:)
Secondly, there’s the saying that you should do something every day that scares you. I’m not sure that’s entirely sound medical advice, particularly for people who are only scared of dangling from great heights, or putting their heads into crocodiles’ mouths, but nevertheless it’s something I strive to do.
And cold showers scare me. Not like a phobia, but just enough to mean there is a little dance of trepidation of shall-I-or-shan’t-I-go-under-the-water-yes-I-shall BLOODY HELL IT’S COLD.
What else could I do to scare myself? I suppose I could watch the bit with the twins from The Shining (note to comedy writers: referencing films is not funny, and referencing The Shining is even less funny than that.) Or I could go on the internet and read fans getting angry about extras on Doctor Who DVDs. Or I could almost-but-not-quite fall backwards in my chair.
No. Cold shower it is.