I'm hardly the next Ice Woman of the internet, but hey, I've just had three weeks of cold showers.

Yup. Icy cold blasts of ball shrinking water (thank god I don't have them) all over my tingling skin. And it's bloody great. Whilst it might be painful for a moment or two, once those pain receptors settle down it's quite tolerable. And afterwards, I'm invigorated and energised. It's become a bit of a tonic - my only regret is not doing it earlier in my life.

Cold showers are meant to make you feel good. They reduce muscle soreness, inflammation and strengthen the immune system - in fact, one study found that people who took cold showers had fewer sick days. A cold shower is meant to trigger the body's immune response regardless of how long it is. It helps with mental alertness and feelings of fatigue. I'm sold. Utterly, utterly sold.

I do have a warm shower first, washing all the bits that need to be washed, then it's full blast cold. I tried to

When I was a kid, my Dad taught me zen and the art of handling being tickled. 'It's all the mind,' he said. 'Just pretend it doesn't tickle'. To this day I disappoint people by standing there deadpan, unaffected by their attempts to make me laugh by tickling. Not that this happens often, mind, but you know, once in a while I can use my superpower and amaze people.

It's a bit like that with cold showers. Whilst Jamie's face sccchrrrrunches up like a little boy and his whole body convulses and he swears like a pirate with a piranha hanging off his testicles, I can stand there and shrug off the seconds, nonchalent and calm as the vegemite toast that follows for breakfast. Not. A. Problem. Mind you, I only last about 45 seconds on most days, but that's enough to make my skin come alive.

As for the rest of the Wim Hof extravanganza, I'll pass on the breathing techniques, thanks. Breathing like that makes me anxious.

But cold showers? I'm in.