Poolside Percy

On the way back from less than sunny Sussex I decide to make a stop-off at The Oasis, scene of many an epic Sunday afternoon adventure. I manage to blag myself a free swim. I haven't swum in a heated pool since May. The water feels like warm treacle and I make hard work of my 50 lengths, I'm quite out of practice.

Water temp: 6 degrees These Saturday mornings keep on getting better, and better, it's just a little bit colder than the last one. I've just done another 5K at Parkrun, I think I smashed my personal best. I've been focussed on running recently, I've been neglecting my swimming duties, time to sort that out. 'Dive in' shouts a regular looking geezer, 'it's much easier' he continues as he does breathless pull-ups under the springboard, his upper torso red with cold, glistening in the morning sunshine. I do what any normal sane person would do and lower myself in to the water via the steps. The water feels cold and sharp on my skin, no kidding. I head out towards the perimeter rope and quickly head back towards the jetty, the brutal cold biting in to my arms. OK, it's only a quick paddle but I feel alive. I have a pleasant chat with a bloke called John from Cricklewood about our teenage sons and the merits of not eating meat, gentrificati

Water temp: 8 degrees (I missed 9) Good morning, good morning. It's a beautiful sunny start to the day in north London. I've been through the 'will I, won't I' discussion in my head. I'm here, with my towel, trunks and rubber hat, in I must go, via the steps today. Head up breaststroke to the perimeter rope and back to the jetty. Easy. Brilliant. I shall return on Saturday. There's an illustrated talk on 26 November, 'Swimming on the Heath', by none other than the illustrious Ruth Corney. Details opposite.

Water temp: 10 degrees (did I miss 11?) It's Friday morning folks. After a lot of mind changing I find myself pulling up outside the men's pond on a very cold November morning. This is the time of year I usually hold up my frozen hand and admit I'm not a cold water swimmer and skulk off to The Oasis. A regular looking swimmer greets me with good morning collective madness look in his eye. The changing room air is cloaked in a thick fog of collective madness. Am I the only sane one here? I find myself at the water's edge and begin my descent in to the cold, opaque waters. A regular (I assume everybody is a regular at this time of year) suggests I might try a dive from the springboard. The water feels warmer than the air temperature, so somehow, somewhere in the degrees of madness, diving in seems like a good idea. What a great idea. Before you know it I'm screaming with laughter and having a great old time. I swim out to the furthest perimeter rope feeling tru

Water temp : 12.1 degrees, apparently Saturday morning dip. It's a beautiful morning, it's always lovely over Hampstead Heath on a Saturday morning. There's quite a few people here, but I'm on my own and need some cold water moral support.I slunk across the jetty, braver souls than I dive in. 'Luxury' shouts one gentleman as he treats himself to the opaque cold water. I slowly lower myself in the water, quickly hoist myself up again, make a few adjustments to my swimming shorts and lower myself in again. The nearest buoy is far enough for me today, the cut on my finger I never knew I had is aching like mad. I consider swimming further but I'm really glad when I'm in gasping reach of the steps. 'You weren't in long' comments a lean, muscled torso. 'I have nothing to prove' I replied. 'Tis true. The Swimmer again next Saturday. Should be good.