Roger Deakin had a moat! Amazing. In this book we get to hear about the year when he went off and swam in all sorts of amazing places: rivers, the sea, lidos, estuaries all around Britain. His descriptions of splashing and gliding though various water definitely made me want to go swimming too (and sad about the fact I only have a chlorinated pool near me). He really gets to some beautiful places and describes them all for us. We also get smatterings of history and thoughts and anecdotes and ribbing of the Environment Agency inbetween all the swimming. A different take of this isle and a very joyous and irreverent one too.

I am by no means a swimmer, but this made me want to get in the water. It read like a marginally less sardonic and more nature-minded and often more lyrical version of Bill Bryson. Fun dives into the aquatic environs of Britain padded with lots of relatively interesting local history and perhaps a bit more travelog chatter than necessary about how he decided where to go next. Strong opinions about wild swimming and access, passion for the physical experience and landscape and the communal closness to it that wild swimming nurtures. I was charmed by the chapters on Cambridge (repeated references to his very useful stop in the University Library map room--this was 1999) and Cambridgeshire and the watery fens.

Oh, Deakin's voice sings. Mossy, luminescent and often melancholic; I loved this book. Nostalgic for the place of my fathers birth; a place I have not yet been able to visit- I have been seeking out novels that explore the British Isles as a place full of stories and memory. Deakin does this the best. He examines the natural, spatial and personal histories of each swimming spot, able to become friends with all inhabitants easily, he speaks as a local each time. This is a soft, warm and often wandering novel. Don't read it quickly.