It was in the second week of lockdown. I had been swimming throughout the winter on Port Meadow. That week I had an urge to swim upriver, so I set off by myself with just a rucksack to put my swimming and drawing things in. I met this impasse: a goose on the path to King’s Lock. I felt so free, leaving the city behind me and the worries of the virus.
Going past the lock you reach a weir and the landscape feels as though it has been untouched for a long time. I was looking for a place to swim when I came across a little stone memorial to an angler, hidden in the long grass. I dared to swim by myself in the river. It was cold and clear and completely solitary. Afterwards, I spent some time drawing, then came back across the meadow. The goose was still on the path, and just gave me a cursory glance before settling back to rest her beak in her feathers. – Miranda Creswell