Poolside Percy

A surprise visit to see my Mum on her birthday. Obviously a post lunch swim in the sea is on the birthday cards. It's a fantastic afternoon, the sun is slowly setting behind Walmer beach. The sea is silvery blue and enticing. I waste no time and slip in to the English Channel, the water isn't exactly cold considering it's the last day of October. I swim far enough so I can see my Mum and step-dad who wave at me, silhouetted on the top of the steep pebbly bank. As I cycle out of Charing Cross Station on my way home I catch the tail end of Critical Mass, I've not been on one those in years, it's Halloween, what the hell. I soon find myself peddling round Piccadilly and up Regent Street flanked by ghoulish skateboarders and cyclists wrapped in tinfoil. Tourists smile and cheer, cabbies look bemused, London innit. As the procession turns left up Oxford Street I carry on north. It was great, as fun as the original Critical Masses, but less aggressive.

 

Water temp: 13 degrees I miss all the ladies this morning but manage to salvage the last croissant from the bottom of the unisex box. I volunteered at Parkrun this morning, split timer, it was was fun shouting times at people as they ran past. I mess about with the Spanish bloke, he won't get in, keeps dipping his feet in the water then shrieking and yelling. I call him a 'big girl's blouse' in his mother tongue. He looks at me bewilderedly and replies: "I'm a large lady shirt?" I shrug wondering what 'lost in translation' is in Spanish. Time to give up and go swimming before I cause a diplomatic incident. The water has been 13 degrees for ages, months even, I don't believe a digit of it. Quick paddle in the pond, feels cold and makes my joints ache.  My shoulder hurts when I swim front crawl. I'm due to do a relay race at Brockwell Lido in a few weeks, I'd better get my act together.

Water temp: 13 degrees It feels like it's been raining for days, the Heath is very damp and muddy. I think we had one shower of biblical proportions during the week which I was the intended recipient. Speaking of biblical, I'm at the Men's Pond with GB. He's well happy 'cos he just picked up his Parkrun 50 t-shirt. He's been waiting very patiently for it for months. The water at edge of the pond is luminous green, like tinned pea soup but with extra algae. I'd best keep my mouth shut, say nothing, I didn't do it, I wasn't there. You can see the green shore in the photo. Thirteen degrees my arse. The water feels very cold, and gnaws at my aching muscles, I manage to swim around the nearest buoy and back to the jetty. They'll be bringing the ropes in soon I reckon. My mind and self have to be elsewhere, off to Olympia with my son, he wants to go to a language seminar. It's all Greek to me.

Special offer at David Lloyd which I neither resist nor afford. Heated outdoor swimming pool on my doorstep, mine for the next five months. I will still still be visiting the Men's Pond and The Lido regularly. I never swim indoors, I like to swim lots of lengths, the nearest heated outdoor pool is London Fields, miles away. I don't have to justify my choice to anybody, apparently I do. First world problems. Thursday late afternoon. The grey canopy of the sky hangs over Finchley like an unwashed neck curtain, it hangs so low it's like a roof, I might have well have swum indoors. Is it too late for a refund? Hey, pool to myself. It's not that warm but it will do, it will have to do, I'm paying for this. The chlorinated water tastes strange. I plough up and down, I'm back to counting lengths, short lengths. I wonder what I'm doing here, a private health club. I sit in the jacuzzi contemplating and justifying my choice. There are some very overweigh