A First Day at the Lido
All winter I look forward to my first swim at the Lido. The small pool I swim at through the winter seems to get more and more crowded as Lido opening approaches but that probably just reflects my eagerness to resume open air swimming. The Lido has many virtues but if I had to choose just one it is the simple fact that it is outdoors. It is also very large. Actually, since there are other bodies of water that satisfy those criteria, and my impatience for open air swimming peaks earlier than the Lido season begins, my first Lido swim of the year is not my first open air swim of the year. That usually happens over Easter and in the large, open air body of water called ‘the sea’.
Although I grew up in the US I was born at East Cowes on the Isle of Wight and still have some Island connections from when my parents moved back there after leaving the States. So my first open air swim of the year is usually at Castlehaven just off Niton or at Horseshoe Bay near Bonchurch, and bracing it is too. This year I broke the custom because my wife and I both turned 60 and we spent Easter in Jordan as a treat. My first sea swim was in the Gulf of Aqaba at Tata Bay (sea temperature 21 degrees C.) and the second was in the Dead Sea near Bethany-Over-Jordan (sea temperature 23 degrees C.), though the latter barely qualified as a swim – if you try to do a recognised stroke your body spins uncontrollably. So instead (see photo) I decided to read the paper.
But what about the Lido, I hear you cry. Well, the Jordan stuff was memorable but so was the first day at the Lido. As a dedicated (i.e. compulsive) allotment gardener I start every Saturday with spade in hand and so I never attend the ceremonial opening. This time I came along a couple hours into the season. I don’t go a lot on pomp but I do like to see occasions marked in some way, so it was great to see the Channel relay group doing their remarkable thing on the far side of the pool, and the sub-aquarists gathering to do theirs at the Stoke Road end of the pool. We’d been staying in hotels with pools in Jordan but although the one at the Dead Sea had a beautiful complex featuring an enormous ‘brim pool’ they aren’t the kind of pool where you can crack on with some exercise. It tends to disturb the international business types (OK, the Russian tycoons) bobbing about holding cocktails and burbling into mobile phones. But the Lido is exactly the kind of pool where you can get on with some exercise, and so I did.
Years ago when I started at the Lido I was chatting to Tim Hall about what people think about when they are swimming. Sad that I am, I mostly think about what I am currently writing (back then it was books, latterly shorter stuff – but don’t get excited, I’m just an academic). This year’s first Lido swim was spent composing a speech in my head. The longest-serving member of my research group was having her retirement tea party that afternoon and ‘the boss’ had to make a few choice remarks. I have lectured to thousands of students and conference delegates over the years but saying the right thing and hitting the right balance of humour and appreciation to suit a retirement occasion is a nervewracking challenge that meant that the swim seemed to pass in a blur. What it did do, though, was feed me a few thoughts about people and open-air water and these thoughts were still in my head after dashing home to mow the lawn, pull on a tie and rush off to the tea party.
The lines I dreamt up at the Lido about shared swimming experiences – my retiring colleague is also an avid outdoor swimmer – went down wonderfully well (or maybe folks just like to laugh at the boss) but what I never expected was that they would bounce my colleague into telling the group about her latest open-air adventure – running into her garden pond to rescue her drowning grandson, falling flat on her face amongst the frog spawn – and when she wondered where her mobile was a couple hours later, ringing the number and hearing it bubble a reply from the pond. Next time, I told her, bring grand-boy and self to Lido.
Nigel Fielding
