Parliament Hill Lido

Sunday morning insanity. I just can't help myself sometimes. And you may find yourself over the Lido in winter...

It was actually 9 degrees when I arrived, I was bottling it already. I stood and stared at the water for about 20 minutes, the regulars were all there, I doubt they ever left since last October, that's what make them regulars I guess. Quite a few people in the water, few wetsuits, lots of rubber gloves and swimming socks, I felt inadequately equipped. The sun was shining but it was still pretty chilly. Not today I thought.

And you may find yourself leaving the changing room wearing your trunks, tshirt, woolly hat and sun glasses, clutching your £2 entrance fee. They're only getting that if I actually get in the water.

I sat on a bench at the shallow watching the brave souls, at least they weren't dead so the cold water probably wouldn't kill me either. I'm reading Oliver Twist, his childhood was a broken-hearted misery, whatever happened, my self-inflicted pain would be nothing compared to his wretchedness.

And you my find yourself wading up the Lido in winter. How cold? I waded back. No flipping way. I bet the regulars were having a right chuckle or taking bets to see whether I'd do it. I waded back up the pool, in it to swim it. I managed four lengths of breaststroke, I sang songs from Oliver to keep me going. Nice hot shower afterwards.

I'll be back.

Spanish omelette in the cafe on Fleet Road with Jai.

Later watched 'The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer' at the BFI.