Dead rat

This post is not for the squeamish. On Sunday we had a lovely swim at the lido, Brockwell waters blue and glittering in the autumn sun. All well and good. But while gathering for our usual post-swim cake and coffee by the pool, Miranda (who was swimming at this point) exited the waters and asked in a low husky voice "Does anyone have a plastic bag?" For - oh no shudder shudder shudder - there was a dead rat at the bottom of the lido!! Miranda, star of the show and general saviour, was keen to avoid mass panic and potential evacuation of swimmers, and so proposed to dive down herself and remove the offending cadaver.

It took a few attempts but eventually she emerged bearing rodent in rigour like a hand-dived scallop, passing it to the crack team of Scene Of Crime Officers Rachel, Candy and Fran.

Pearl-fisher meets rat-catcher

Miranda the lido hero

Winter timetable II

Now that winter's come
Lido closes Tues and Thurs
And today is Tues.

Now that winter's come
Lido closes Tues and Thurs
Tomorrow is Weds.

The Movember Swimmer

Ah, The Swimmer, The Swimmer. In no other situation is satisfaction so thoroughly guaranteed. Intricacies of this monthly outdoor swimming extravaganza are outlined here for the October installment, but basically you meet in north london and get to south london through the power of FEET and swim at four lidos/ponds/lakes en route.

The November installment on Saturday (a year since I first took part in this madness) saw record attendance of 23 lunatics, including FIVE whole women, not to mention some of the usual suspects:

Arch rivals Marcus and Peter try to out-fluoresce one another

 ...and some unusual upper-lip motifs for movember:

"I'm telling you my moustache is right here"

We were blessed with some early morning sun for swim #1 at Hampstead Men's pond, where John celebrated his 50th birthday with a dive into 9 degree waters: 

A quick splash about (and startled expressions from a couple of unacclimatized newcomers), then redonning of clothes and hop over to parliament hill lido - a hallowed place where steel and cold water make each other colder (in a good way):

Back into clothes, scarf down half a banana in the carpark, pile bags into support car (this time kindly driven by Jonathan and Beano the dog thank you very much indeed), run to Primrose Hill, get random lady to take the obligatory group photo...

...share second half of banana with a chap called Martin who sometimes swims at Brockwell, hoof it through Regent's park, Marylebone, Hyde Park. Hello Serpentine!

On arrival I discovered the token tree that usually constitutes my changing room is entirely surrounded by mud, so head up a little set of stone steps that lead nowhere and start changing there. Soon discover the bag already there belongs to a man who has now finished his swim and come back to dress - awkward. We dealt with the situation by having a very pleasant chat about swimming whilst studiously looking in the opposite direction.

Not sure quite why but the Serpentine felt absolutely FREEZING. I hear tell it was 8 degrees, so not exactly warm, but seemed more like 5 degrees to me. The serp club had some races on in the cordoned off part so we were instructed to go Beyond the Buoys - thrilling! Suddenly felt very exposed to the elements and all at sea. We opted for a conservative lap along the buoys and I strategically stuck close to Marcus (who knows those waters) like a pilot fish on a sea turtle, before slithering ashore with all the dignity we could muster amongst the mulch.

The usual battle between icy fingers, damp towel and barely preserved modesty, then onwards and downwards to south london and journey's end - viz my own dear Brockwell lido, though not before we were thoroughly soaked in a deluge from Clapham onwards. Having taken the last leg at a leisurely pace I was even able to put in a canter at the end like an old horse nearing its stable, before a delicious 6 lengths on home surf followed by equally but differently delicious poached oeufs at the lido cafe.

Always rehydrate after a long run

Meanwhile, two of the girls had been mislaid en route, causing organiser Will to prong the eggs and b. with a meditative fork, frowning (see above). Fortunately they eventually materialised (to a resounding cheer from our table), having run all the way to Tooting Bec before discovering that we finish 2 miles north:

And then there were 23 again

They seemed completely unfazed by the detour (whereas Martin, on the right of the above pic, is clearly traumatized by the very idea).

This has since sparked rumours of an "ultra" penta-splash version for the December Swimmer... watch this space...

Winter timetable

Now that winter's come
Lido closes Tues and Thurs
And today is Thurs.

Now that winter's come
Lido closes Tues and Thurs
Tomorrow is Fri.

Dry dives and light shows

We've had some truly wonderful autumnal swims at Brockwell lido the past few weeks, glorious morning sunshine illuminating suspended leaves, scattering golden patterns of light across the bottom, with water temps inching steadily, thrillingly down (12.5-13 degrees at the moment).

The latest craze, instigated by Peter and subsequently championed by David, is the dry dive - i.e. diving as a means of initial entry to the water (for definitions of other lido terminology, see David's blog post), which can be something of a shock to the system even for the most hardened Icicle (the dive I mean, not David's blog).

I'm quite a fan of the mid-swim wet dive with maximum run-up before launch - whoosh! - so I gave its dry cousin a go at 13.8 degrees and it was quite exhilarating, although more of a bonedry bellyflop in my case as my subconscious tried to put its foot down. 1 week (and 1 degree) later I had firmly hung up my dry-dive hat, leaving me free to capture this exclusive footage of fellow Icicles in action:

 In case you blinked and missed it, here are a couple of stills:

Dry...

...dive!

Following the thrill of the dive, the ripples dissipate, the heart regains sinus rhythm and what remains is a shoal of Brockwell Icicles gliding about in a calm, crisp, sun-drenched box of cold watery heaven. Just to prove I'm not exaggerating:

See?!

All followed, of course, by piles of cake and lashings of the best coffee in town.

An unsuspecting Liz takes her eye off Candy for one second...

...Candy I think she may have rumbled you

The Lido Cafe: sanctuary for bewildered Icicles

Polar Bear basks in the sun

The three bears and their porridge

...Goldilocks finds sustenance elsewhere

Mad dogs and Englishmen

Brockwell lido has been feeling *distinctly* chillier the past few days - winter swimming is approaching! Though doesn't officially start until 4th November, so still a few weeks to go. The board says 14.5 degrees, some of us are sceptical, not least because that's what it was last week and Tooting Bec just down the road has been reporting 10 deg...

Anyway I'm sticking to my '1 length per degree' winter formula that got me through last year. For the first length it feels like millions of invisible teeth are nibbling at my forearms, but swimming back into the sun seems to melt them away. A few more lengths and I'm over the mild cold shock and getting into blissed-out endorphin territory. I'm swimming between regulars Marc and Peter, still glowing from our weekend adventure, and 'Red Leader' Guy. No sign of Sara or David - worrying... I get to 14 lengths, I'm having such a good time...I could probably manage one more but I'm not sure about two (has to be even numbers) so I quit while I'm ahead. In the showers who should I meet but my old friend, the Uncontrollable Shivers! It's been a while.

Out by the waterside for post-swim coffee, who should burst in upon the scene but David being pulled every which way by the magical murphy and ruthless rufus:

These boots were made for walking dogs

Does David know something Peter doesn't?

Apparently he's having a 'Victorian day' - something about fireplaces and chimney sweeps. Mind you don't catch the flue David.

And what time do you call this?

The later-spotted Sara

Fortunately Marc was there to raise the tone with a most convincing impression of a Greek bronze statue:

Poseidon adventurer

I'm going away tomorrow for FIVE WHOLE DAYS - how am I going to cope? Am I actually going to start taking cold showers..?!

'The Swimmer' returns

After the summer recess (featuring school trips to such delightful spots as Cambridge), at last The Swimmer returned in its classic, London form. Invented by geniuses Will and Jonathan of Tooting Bec Lido and inspired by the John Cheever short story, the basic concept of The Swimmer is an epic swim-run journey from Hampstead NW3 to Brockwell Park SE24. It's a monthly event and I took part through last winter, and basically it's totally totally brilliant!

For the latest installment I had aspiring Brockwell Icicle Marc for travelling companion (at 6am, naturally), making his Swimmer debut with the world's largest backpack and enough kit to supply a company of sherpas for the busy season. Frantic rearrangement of bags-within-bags on the underground only seemed to make the biggest bag bigger...

Totally packed on the tube

Everything to declare

Switching to Northern line who should we encounter on the platform but Brockwell Icicle Peter, sporting some highly questionable footwear which he insisted are the latest in barefoot technology:

Line the gap

Alighting in salubrious Himpstid, we made straight for McDonanlds McMeeting point by the station, there to convene with Will, Jonathan and 20 other participants (a bumper edition!) and to sign away our rights to sue the organisers in the event of injury, death or worse. Bags in the support car, this time kindly driven by Will, and we were off for swim #1 - viz Hampstead men's pond.

The more observant of you will have noticed that I am not a man - indeed, I am a woman! However, with just me and two others (the excellent Ellie and Hannah) representing Team Gal and the ponds pretty deserted at 7.30 of an October morning, we were allowed to access this otherwise exclusive boys club. There's even a small subcompartment within the open-air changing room for such eventualities (which you access, giggling, via the men's section). While it can't compare with the secluded idyll that is the ladies' pond, the men's is still an enchanted spot, and the water looked very tranquil and inviting under the rising sun. There's also a diving board at the end of the jetty where, proudly sporting our white The Swimmer hats, we duly unleashed our testosterone-filled inner egomaniacs.

Today's specials on the board

Here we have a brilliant video from Peter, pictured above, from whose steady hand and post-production skills I can but learn:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHM5uYOy_fc&feature=youtu.be

The water was a refreshing 13ish degrees, providing a firm but by no means brutal wake-up call that gave way to a glorious little paddle about under some beautiful backlit cloud formations. *sigh of pleasure* What's more weather forecast of torrential rain turned out to be completely off the mark, thank god, and we were blessed with a sunny autumn morning for the whole affair. What luck!

Clothes back on, a few star jumps to get warm and then a short trot to swim #2 - the unique and steely experience that is Parliament Hill lido, where the shimmerings and reflections underwater can make you forget to beathe.

Just time for a fortifying banana in the lido carpark and brief documentation of 3/4 of the Brockwell contingent, including a rare sighting of the lesser-spotted Marcus (Peter was taking the photo):

 

Now for the first run proper - a 4-mile canter through a who's who of London's scenic spots - among them Primrose hill, for stunning views of London skyline and obligatory group photo (thanks to The Swimmer for this and a few other pics, which I have shamelessly swiped from your website):

...past London zoo (no giraffes in sight - presumably lie in on Saturdays?), through pretty Regent's Park resisting urge to add in a bonus swim through the boating lake, winding our way amongst the smart marylebone streets, before hitting Hyde Park like a herd of over-enthusiastic wilderbeast and our destination for swim #3 - the Serpentine!

Changing facilities = a bench for the boys and a tree for the girls, giving passing tourists better sight-seeing value than they could ever have hoped for (we aim to please). 

Then a quick line up along the jetty before splashing down into the considerably er, 'earthier' waters of the lake.

Snaking our way to the water's edge

 

Swimming heaven

Back behind tree to change. It's at this point in proceedings I generally discover all my kit is wet and start to feel just a tad cold and tired - nothing for it but a morale-boosting cigarette to fortify the sinews and steel me for the 6-mile leg to journey's end.

We set off at a reasonably sprightly pace which to my (mild and concealed) disappointment didn't really abate, but there's nothing like running in a pack to keep you zipping along. Along towards Hyde Park Corner, cutting right to Sloane Square (where I saw a footprint with individual toes! I was tracking Peter in his weirdo shoes!), over Chelsea Bridge -Battersea power station bathed in sunlight- a nip through Battersea Park, along little streets with cute terraced houses, up a hill (blast you hill!), Clapham Common and finally Brockwell Park and Lido - a blessed sight at the best of times and all the more so after 18km on foot.

Saving the best til last

Back on home turf and happy as a fish, I dashed out a joyful 6 lengths under the October sun and amongst the now familiar shoal of white hats. Here we have a rare piece of Brockwell footage (nice work Peter) with some bonus Serpentine material at the start (where you can see me filming my video above, ha!).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27PZ6kPEJ8M&feature=youtu.be

Out of the water, we all shook hands and congratulated one another on our mission accomplished, before reclaiming civilian clothes and making a beeline for brunch at the famed Lido Cafe. Poached eggs never tasted so good nor disappeared off the plate so fast.

P. S. If all that sounds a bit too much like hard work, you might want to check out  'The Swimmer Lite' (as documented on Brockwell Icicle David's excellent and hilarious new blog 'Entirely Surrounded by Crumbs'), which took place simultaneously and, in his words, "let the train take the strain".