Sunday afternoon swim. Grey and overcast.
After yesterday's madness/heroics it's back to normality in central London. The water is cold but the pool is virtually empty. It starts to rain as I push off in lane three, my very own lane, the slow lane all to myself, luxury. The water is even colder at the deep-end, I quicken my stroke on the way back.
Some potential swimmers brave the chilly west end air, I growl at them, keep out of my lane. Most of them dip their piggies in the cold water and scurry off to the tropical oasis of the indoor pool.
At length 31, the mid-way length, the middle lane is free. I'm free, a whole lane to myself. I swim on and on and on, in no particular hurry. The water gets pumped in to the pool in the shallow end of the middle lane.
I peddle to the rainy north for home-made curry.