How to make a vinyl record

I saw an interesting article in Saturday's Guardian newspaper on How to make a vinyl record. It was in a section called "Disappearing acts", which sounded a little depressing - although actually it seems that a few die-hard bands are still putting enough material out on vinyl to keep the industry going for a bit longer.

It's a good read if you're at all curious about the industrial process used to press records, and it also touches on some of the reasons why vinyl still has its fans. I had to suppress a cynical snort when I read about the "superior sound quality" of vinyl (possibly true in principle, but in my experience often not realised in practice - I have some pressings that are so poor that it sounds as if someone was vigorously sweeping the floor during the recording) - however I agree with the appeal of a "personal, tactile relationship" with the discs and their sleeve artwork (surely there has been no greater canvas than the 12"x12" LP sleeve?).

Also, reading this article reminded me of another obscure pleasure of vinyl: the little messages etched in the run-out groove of some records (I guess made by the engineer when the original lacquer was cut). For example, my 12" of Suede's epic "Stay Together" has "A big hand to D D, Mr G K and company!" on the A-side and simply "For My Dad" on the B-side:

As I've written previously, my own record collection has of late been experiencing a bit of a quiet renaissance (helped by the purchase of a new needle for my turntable). There is definitely something almost ritualistic about the hands-on process of playing a record, compared to the ease of putting on a CD or MP3, and it continues to fascinate me. In the meantime it's heartening to read that my old friend vinyl isn't quite dead just yet.

Llandudno Sea Swim

On Saturday I did my first ever real sea swim - 1500m along the bay between the Great and Little Ormes in Llandudno - as part of the Blue Seventy Llandudno Sea Swim run by Xtra Mile Events. I'd decided to do it in preparation for a holiday at the end of July, which will involve swimming between some of the Scilly Isles. As I'd never properly swum in the sea I felt I could use the experience in Llandudno to improve my confidence.

I'd been trying to think positive thoughts in the week beforehand, reminding myself that I routinely swim further than 1500m in the pool; that I'd done a number of outdoor swims in the last few months; and that my swimming instructor had told me my technique was fine. In spite of that I felt nervous by the time I arrived at the seafront, and it didn't help seeing the distances between the big yellow course buoys (before the tide came in, still lying on the beach) - it looked a long way! Also, in spite of the sun there was a persistent chilly breeze from the sea, and the waves rolling into the shore looked bigger than I'd expected. Was this really a good idea?

Fortunately I'd arranged to meet up with a great mother-and-daughter couple that I'd met through the OSS social swims at Hatchmere, and we gave each other moral support as we made our way to the start and changed into our wetsuits with the other swimmers. Everyone looked very serious (but I suppose that's the effect of wearing a wetsuit - whilst simultaneously making you also look quite ridiculous) and I was feeling increasingly tense waiting around for the organisers to give the safety briefing. Finally the rather fetching lilac race swim hats were handed out and we were off, staggering barefoot down the beach over hard pebbles (ouch!) to the starting buoys, which were now bobbing up and down vigorously with the waves.

I wasn't feeling too confident as I waded in near the back. The waves seemed rough as we made our way out into the deeper water for the start, and I felt like I was being pushed around a lot by the sea. The left lens of my goggles let in some water but I wasn't really able to adjust them. Really, what was I even doing here?

The signal was given for every one to set off, and I trailed the surge of lilac caps and flailing arms towards the first pair of buoys. The first few minutes seemed mad; I felt like I was being tossed up and down like a piece of driftwood without any control. Swimming breaststroke in order to see where I was going, I didn't feel like I could possibly make any headway in these conditions. The distance buoys marking out the course kept disappearing out of sight as the waves carried me several feet up and down. Surely I couldn't cover 1500m of this? Perhaps I should stop now?

And then quite suddenly something changed - I realised that I was already some distance past the starting buoys, despite appearances it was possible to ride the waves quite comfortably, and - shock! I started to relax and enjoy just being in the sea. Continuing with breaststroke (and occasional bursts of front crawl, as I felt more confident) I took in the sights as I slowly but surely made progress: sunshine, blue skies, the white buildings on the promenade to the left and the green waves rolling in from the right, the support kayaks bobbing up and down. I was swimming in a race in the sea! And it was fantastic! Yaay!

I stopped worrying about the distance, kept up a steady rhythm, and lost track of time. All of a sudden the last yellow buoy seemed to appear and I saw the support kayakers directing the swimmer just ahead of me back to the shore. I followed him and staggered up the boat launch back to dry land. I'd enjoyed it so much that I was almost sorry that I'd reached the end, and I was so glad that I'd done it. A lot of the swimmers had come to race but I was happy just to have completed the distance, and I'd conquered many of my fears of swimming in the sea.

I also felt that I learned a lot about what I need to work leading up to swimming in the Scillies trip. I think most importantly "sighting" (i.e. periodically checking and correcting your course), swimming in more of a straight line, and not getting too worried about going off course. People talk a lot about swimming being as much about good technique as about fitness, but I'm realising now that confidence and mental attitude also plays a big part, especially outdoors.

Afterwards I caught up with my Hatchmere friends (who I'd lost somewhere on the swim - I was the one in a lilac hat, didn't you see me? Um...). I think we'd all done really well just to start the race and achieve our goals of making it to the finish, but I thought that they both had reason to be particularly proud: the mother was recovering from a hip replacement, and her daughter had stayed with her to give encouragement and support. It was inspiring, and why swimming can be so great sometimes.

After a few pints at the pub with a group of their friends who'd come along to watch, it was time to catch the train back home in a pleasantly tired stupor. I couldn't have had a better end to a fantastic day than watching the north Wales coast roll past in the glow of the late evening sun, feeling a real sense of achievement and now looking forward to swimming the Scillies later in the year.