I’ll Swim to France!
SARAH MILNE
There are some things you say as a child that disappear completely. Others, for reasons you can’t quite explain, stay with you.
I was born in Hastings, although we moved away when I was four. Thankfully, my grandparents stayed, and some of my happiest summer memories are of their concrete chalet at Bulverhythe Beach. One of those memories is of me, aged six, swimming in the sea in my favourite 1970s swimming costume, complete with pleated skirt and white piping. My grandma called out that I was too far out. I shouted back: “I’ll swim to France!”
I loved swimming. When we went as a family, I would leave my dad and brother to their games and present a lifeguard with a soggy piece of paper so they could count lengths towards my next distance badge. I lined the badges up on my swimming costume, ridiculously proud of them. The skating and gymnastics certificates and Brownie badges have long disappeared, but I still have my swimming badges, most slightly shrivelled from years of water.
I had plenty of determination and endurance but very little speed, so I never made it into a swimming club. But whenever I stood on a beach, I would look beyond the horizon and remember that six-year-old who simply wanted to keep swimming until she reached the other side.
Then I grew up, got a job, got married and became a mum. I had three premature babies; one of my children was seriously ill throughout his childhood. There were hospitals, appointments, uncertainty and the exhausting business of bringing up a family when one child needs more than most. Dreams became the sort of thing you could think about later: when there was more time, more sleep, more money, more certainty. I became very good at putting myself at the bottom of the list. But the idea never quite disappeared.
My tiny premature babies grew up. My daughters left home, while my younger son, who still needs support, began dividing his time between my home and his father’s. Like many of us, the slower pace of lockdown gave me time to look at my life differently. I began to wonder what I wanted the next chapter to look like. The answer, unexpectedly, was Hastings. The family home in Croydon came with a huge mortgage and many memories, but Hastings had always felt like home to me. In 2021, I finally made the move back.
I immediately built a life around the sea, starting each day walking the dogs along the seafront, drinking coffee on the beach and swimming. Within weeks, I joined the RNLI, first as part of the shore crew and operational team and more recently with the water safety team. The sea gives us so much, but it demands respect. I’ve learned to understand its risks, the weather and tides, and the importance of knowing your limits. Now I have the privilege of sharing that knowledge with others, helping people enjoy the water safely.
The more time I spent looking out to sea, the louder that little girl’s voice became. So now I’m finally going to attempt to swim the English Channel. Writing that still gives me butterflies. I’m not an elite athlete. I’m an ordinary, middle-aged woman who had a childhood dream and has finally decided to find out whether she can make it happen.
The plan is a Channel relay in July 2027, followed by a solo crossing from England to France in July 2028. The pilot boat is booked, the contracts are signed, training has begun. And I’m going to share all of it: relearning a more efficient front crawl, endless pool and sea sessions, sewage alerts, rising sea temperatures, jellyfish stings – and the life reflections and strange thoughts that emerge when you spend hours with your head down, following a dark line on the pool floor or disappearing into open water.
There will be stories of Hastings and St Leonards, the beaches, the sea and the characters I meet along the way, because this is where the story began and where much of the training will happen.
One of my first discoveries has been the extraordinary community of channel swimmers. I signed my solo swim contract on the way to Dover to celebrate the centenary of Gertrude Ederle becoming the first woman to swim the Channel. Surrounded by seasoned swimmers, I felt somewhat overwhelmed. It didn’t last long. Everyone was generous with advice, encouragement and stories.
That sense of community is something I want to bottle and share, because we often keep our dreams to ourselves. We’re frightened of being laughed at, told they’re unrealistic, or discovering that we don’t have what it takes. I was afraid to share mine. But I must, because no channel swimmer succeeds alone. A team is needed to keep you safe, hydrated and fed.
I would love you to join my team, whether by sharing advice, joining me for a swim, helping raise funds for the adventure and for the Alexa Trust – which supports other families of premature and sick babies – or simply offering encouragement when it all feels overwhelming.
And perhaps there is something bigger in this than one woman trying to swim 21 miles across a cold, unpredictable stretch of water. What if we all shared our deepest dreams? What if, instead of talking each other out of our ambitions, we helped each other achieve them? I hope that by sharing mine, I might start a ripple effect across Hastings and St Leonards – and that, along the way, our stories might become part of each other’s.
My story started when a six-year-old girl stood in the sea at Bulverhythe and made a rather ambitious promise. Now, finally, I’m going back for her – to find out if she was right.
You can follow my journey at sarah_e_milne on Instagram and at gofundme.com/sarah-milne-swims-to-france. HIP will continue to follow Sarah’s journey into the blue.
Sarah Milne is a writer and public health psychologist based in Hastings. She has a PhD in health psychology and has worked for many years in public health, specialising in behaviour change, motivation and wellbeing. She also writes theatre reviews and performs at The Stables Theatre. Since returning to Hastings in 2021, she has built much of her life around her love of the sea, swimming and volunteering with the RNLI. She often writes for HIP, including arts and theatre reviews and has taken part in productions at The Stables Theatre.
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