The Ticking is the Bomb by Nick Flynn
There’s no point in me ever trying to properly explain why I swam for hours every morning in the pool at the Hyatt in the week my father had a stroke. Nick Flynn has done it for me. The last time I read this book was before. God how books morph in myriad ways. Reread, always reread.
Swimming in public tends to be something I sort of hate doing, mainly because I’m not a very good swimmer but also because I really don’t like swimming costumes or the massive amounts of chlorine in public swimming pools. Still, this very swimming pool in the photograph was such a lifesaver during Vidcon. I’d swim for around two hours every morning, normally at 7am or so, get into the jacuzzi to warm up and then dry off, spend an hour looking in the windows of the closed shops in the outdoor shopping centre nearby and eventually try to work out whether anyone else had woken up yet. I’ve been busy today so as per usual I sat on my bed and started to read, but all of the words on the page overwhelmed me and I feel like I’ve hit my limit. I used to have that feeling a lot, particularly when I started secondary school (I was 12) and during GCSEs but it really surprised me today. I ended up buying Glamour (the UK version which is about five thousand million times better than the US one, although still terrible) and just looking at the pictures. I wish I had a swimming pool open nearby though. I desperately want to do laps listening to a random playlist of songs. The best was when All Saints’ 'The Beach' shuffled… infinity pool + that song = calm.
[I think PPD is starting to hit me. PP&VCD. And maybe a bit of SAD — wish the UK would have nice weather]