onionbagblog
Golden Days
It wasn't the sunniest of starts on the morning of Bank Holiday Monday, but an outdoor pool is an outdoor pool; that's perfect enough for me.
Entering the art decor splendour of Lake Brockwell for another year, and the sight of a fully functioning 1930's period piece pool being enjoying by the local community put a huge grin on my face. This remained for a further five minutes, before I took the plunge and dived into the tepid waters of seventeen degrees (yeah, right...)
I knew what was coming. I've felt this way on the Best Day of Year in South London for the past fourteen years. Dragging your arse over to Brockwell early in the morning is the hard part; once you're there, you're gonna swim. There's no point poncing around, dipping your big toe in the water. One, two, three and you're away.
The first length of the season is always the most exhilarating. That's a polite way of saying that I questioned my sanity in splashing out for a season ticket, tying me down for a further five months of this early morning madness.
Come the turn-around for length two, and I was feeling pity for my old swimming colleagues, sweating away in a sterile, soulless environment indoors at either Clap'ham or Brixton.
Sixteen lengths late of the Olympic size pool, and time was turning against me. Pleasure certainly wasn't. I could have remained water bound for the rest of the morning. Time for the recuperation period and a steaming hot shower.
I'm pleased to report that the shoebox size changing rooms have had a major revamp for this season. There are now individual cubicles, as well as a general changing area. Plenty of room to swing around yer *shhh* wetsuit.
Did I mention that? Whoops.
Catching up with the lido community is another high point of the Best Day of the Year. These are my front crawl comrades with whom I will be spending my early mornings with for the following five months. You have a whole winter season of gossip to catch up on, all exchanged with that knowing glint in your eye, recognising that something special is about to be shared over the coming summer months.
And so another year, another start of the South London lido season. I'll truly wouldn't want to live anywhere else right now. Same again tomorrow.
Golden days.
reply via twitter
| Monday 4 May, 2009 |
It wasn't the sunniest of starts on the morning of Bank Holiday Monday, but an outdoor pool is an outdoor pool; that's perfect enough for me.
Entering the art decor splendour of Lake Brockwell for another year, and the sight of a fully functioning 1930's period piece pool being enjoying by the local community put a huge grin on my face. This remained for a further five minutes, before I took the plunge and dived into the tepid waters of seventeen degrees (yeah, right...)
I knew what was coming. I've felt this way on the Best Day of Year in South London for the past fourteen years. Dragging your arse over to Brockwell early in the morning is the hard part; once you're there, you're gonna swim. There's no point poncing around, dipping your big toe in the water. One, two, three and you're away.
The first length of the season is always the most exhilarating. That's a polite way of saying that I questioned my sanity in splashing out for a season ticket, tying me down for a further five months of this early morning madness.
Come the turn-around for length two, and I was feeling pity for my old swimming colleagues, sweating away in a sterile, soulless environment indoors at either Clap'ham or Brixton.
Sixteen lengths late of the Olympic size pool, and time was turning against me. Pleasure certainly wasn't. I could have remained water bound for the rest of the morning. Time for the recuperation period and a steaming hot shower.
I'm pleased to report that the shoebox size changing rooms have had a major revamp for this season. There are now individual cubicles, as well as a general changing area. Plenty of room to swing around yer *shhh* wetsuit.
Did I mention that? Whoops.
Catching up with the lido community is another high point of the Best Day of the Year. These are my front crawl comrades with whom I will be spending my early mornings with for the following five months. You have a whole winter season of gossip to catch up on, all exchanged with that knowing glint in your eye, recognising that something special is about to be shared over the coming summer months.
And so another year, another start of the South London lido season. I'll truly wouldn't want to live anywhere else right now. Same again tomorrow.
Golden days.
reply via twitter
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