Poolside Percy

Water temp: 5 degrees Windy and muddy Saturday morning. Whatever, I've just done another Hampstead Parkrun, I'm as high as a kite and looking for more legal highs. Luckily I've got the ever intrepid and inspirational GB with me. Neither of us are brave enough to dive off the board today. I'm in first today, two swimming hats. I swim quickly towards the perimeter rope as the cold starts to bite in to my flesh. It looks a long way back to the jetty but I remind myself that I swam two lengths of the Lido a couple of weeks ago. I consider how long  you'd survive in this water if your ship had sunk, not long. Before you know it I'm jumping up and down on the jetty with joy, oh joy, oh joy. That's my first ever, ever December Pond swim. Not long 'til January. Merry Xmas.

I'm the gentleman in the rubber cap Water temp: 6 degrees I'm with GB. 'Do you want a free ticket for the Outdoor Swimming Society's winter dip?'. Two lengths of The Lido, three mince pies and three cups of ginger wine later and I feel like a proper Saturday morning hero. Much fun.

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