A mild morning and a brief respite between squally showers lured large numbers this year to the annual Christmas Day plunge at the Forty Foot in Sandycove, Co Dublin.
Many were called, but only a few were frozen. The throngs of woolly-jumpered, whiskey-slugging onlookers easily outnumbered those hardy souls who dared to plunge in Joyce's scrotum-tightening sea of Dublin Bay.
Large and small, young and old - but all equally goose-pimpled - the swimmers slowly made their way down the steps. There's a balance to be struck here; go too slow and you cool down too much and the moment will have passed.
But jump in too quickly and the shock of immersion will be all the more painful.
Once in, thrash about furiously until you "warm". Shriek to attract attention, but not so much that you put off your friends entering behind you.
The landlubbers cheered each new entrant to the sea, especially the divers, who had somehow mistaken the lowly rocks of the Forty Foot for the cliffs of Acapulco.
The largest roars were reserved for those in fancy dress or wigs, a few unfortunates who bellyflopped and women whose bathing costumes became disarranged in the effort of it all.
Year-round swimmers, some well into their 70s, scoffed at the enthusiasms of the multitudes. "Tepid!" said one old woman, on hearing that the water temperature was as high as 44 Fahrenheit.
By noon, when the crowds peaked, the heavy showers had disappeared and Howth showed brightly across the bay.
The sea around the Forty Foot was calm and deep and blue. Two canoeists patrolled the outer limit of the bathing area to ensure no mishaps occurred.
Dublin's main social occasion on Christmas Day was in full swing. Friendships were being renewed, presents exchanged and invitations issued. All was well with the world.
