May Dip

St Andrews is full of weird traditions, from wearing ridiculous gowns in ridiculous ways to refusing to walk across particular cobblestones where a Protestant man was once burned at the stake. I could go on – but my favourite of these traditions is May Dip.

Anyone fancy joining me to run into the North Sea at dawn? It’s two degrees air temperature and the familiar biting wind is howling through your ribs. The tide is out and slipping away further, so it’s a long run across numb sand to get to the water. But there are bonfires all along the beach and a pink and orange glow is starting to spread across the sky, while the wet sand is gleaming with firelight and the first rays of dawn.

We ran in together and held hands as we submerged ourselves. The shock of the cold knocked the air out of me. I emerged gulping for air, mind blurred and fuzzy, but the air seemed warm now, and the sun was rising too. We whooped and laughed and sloshed away, frog-legged and numb, in search of hot showers and pancakes.

Where I’ve been

I’ve not written here in over a month, which is a little ridiculous. But I have written! Example 1: let’s talk about Labelled.

Labelled Magazine is all about body positivity, inclusivity, feminism, ethical fashion, and happiness. We’ve got two issues out and I’ve written for both.

Ethical fashion: Read my feature on Pineneedle Collective blogger Annika here even if you’ve already heard me rave about her blog.

Ethical fashion again: I also did a feature on ACHIK, a student-led ethical clothing venture stretching from Guatemala to St Andrews – read here.

Opinion: I think this article kind of sucks, but here are my thoughts on the idea that ‘everyone is beautiful.’

Finally, I’m going to be fashion blogging over summer (sort of). You heard me! Soon you’ll be inundated with posts about where I got my clothes and why I think that’s important. Get keen.

Easter Sunday snapshots

It is eighteen degrees on the sunny side of the street.

Shadows hint of winter across the road.

Sunlight glances off pale skin, white and blinding bright, soothed only by the glitter of orange-golden hairs gleaming like jewels upon a stranger’s arm.

My goose-pimpled mother thaws, and takes off both her jumpers.

It is Easter and spring has risen indeed.