They show extraordinary intelligence, even problem-solving. Especially the big one.

Hello again, blog followers. Happy new year to you all, and I hope that 2009 brings you all that you wish for.

My initial resolution for 2009 was not to make any resolutions. However, it soon dawned on me that I would be breaking that resolution if I followed it. So, not wishing to have the collapse of the space-time continuum on my conscience, I resolved to compile a list of traditional resolutions - one of which was to sit down at my computer once a fortnight and tap out something vaguely coherent for your perusal.

It’s been three months now since Tom and I began our training odyssey, and to be honest I’m not noticing much of a difference. I was expecting to go through some kind of dry land withdrawal. I imagined myself developing mutant gills, webbed feet, a superfluous nipple, or maybe the odd fin or two .... but no. I am rather disappointed.

I am a little perplexed too, at how my general level of fitness and stamina seems to be decreasing the more I train and exercise. Two months ago I was able to swim a kilometre with little pause for rest. More recently, however, I have struggled to swim more than ten lengths without becoming significantly fatigued. It is all very strange, and the only rational conclusion I can draw is that it represents the basis of some kind of latent superpower that is awakening within me.

As to whether I will use this power for good, evil or awesome, I have yet to decide.

In other, non-superpower related news, we’ve not played underwater charades since Tom’s little accident in the pool at the end of 2008. Unbeknownst to us, it appears that humans have yet to evolve the capacity to speak underwater without simultaneously ingesting large amounts of water into their lungs. This in turn can lead to a major case of deadness, especially if your swimming buddy is too busy laughing his head off to assist in your recovery (once again Tom, I’m very sorry about that).

Instead, our new year swims have been interspersed with deep philosophical musings; the kind of age-old questions that have prompted much beard-scratching and many sleepless nights throughout the course of human history. So, when halfway through our swim, Tom turned to me - his face pained in thought - I knew that an enquiry of epic profundity was about to be made.

“Seb?”, he began, “What do you think is the most important part of a building?”
“I’m sorry?”
“A building. What’s its most important part?”, he repeated, believing me to have simply misheard the question or become confused by the ordering of its words.
“... Well”, I answered - after a dramatic and unnecessary pause - “probably the floor”.
“Hmm”, huffed Tom, clearly unsatisfied by my answer.

.... “But what if the building was on a precipice?”, he continued.
“Overlooking a precipice, or overhanging a precipice?” I enquired, illustrating the difference with my hands and some impromptu signs.
“No, no, no, hanging FROM a precipice”, exhorted Tom, as if that were the most normal thing in the world.
“... so, upside down?”, I managed.
“Yes! But the people inside have magnetic boots to combat gravity. Obviously”.
“Ah, I hadn’t thought about that”, I conceded, observing the wide circle of space that had formed around us, during the course of our conversation.
“In that case the ceiling would be important, wouldn’t it?”, Tom concluded, his eyes a sea of pleading recognition.
“Yes, I suppose in that case it would”.

to be continued