At the end of the week when everyone was sharing the picture of the sea on fire—the one that shows flames emerging from the ocean like the Eye of Sauron and around it three boats trying to put the fire out with water despite the fact that the fire is already in the ocean—I went with my friend to the sea baths. The idea was to go into the steam room, get hot, and then swim in the cold sea water just outside the steam room to make us feel better about it being winter. We went in the steam room where there were five other men sitting and talking. I asked them if they had been in the ocean yet. The men nodded. I asked if it was cold. A man with an entirely bald head wearing a thick gold chain around his neck said, in a northern English accent, "fucken cold mate, you'll freeze your fucken balls off."
On space culture wars
On space culture wars
On space culture wars
At the end of the week when everyone was sharing the picture of the sea on fire—the one that shows flames emerging from the ocean like the Eye of Sauron and around it three boats trying to put the fire out with water despite the fact that the fire is already in the ocean—I went with my friend to the sea baths. The idea was to go into the steam room, get hot, and then swim in the cold sea water just outside the steam room to make us feel better about it being winter. We went in the steam room where there were five other men sitting and talking. I asked them if they had been in the ocean yet. The men nodded. I asked if it was cold. A man with an entirely bald head wearing a thick gold chain around his neck said, in a northern English accent, "fucken cold mate, you'll freeze your fucken balls off."