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And so fifteen summers of outdoor swimming in South London came to a close for me early on Sunday morning as I bid an emotional farewell to @BrockwellLido. A final creak of the iconic turnstiles, and I exited the cool waters of Lake Brockwell for probably the last time. I didn’t get this tearful after buggering off from Brixton Rec.

The @BrockwellLido close of season coincides this summer with the arrival of the Great Escape. With the lido shutters now pulled firmly shut, the bag packing can start in earnest as I seek to find a new outdoor swimming experience somewhere deep within the wilds of North Essex.

When @AnnaJCowen and I sat down some eighteen months ago to compile a list of Reasons to Stay in London, my plus column consisted of a solitary entry: Brockwell Lido. Cricket almost got a look in, as did track cycling at Herne Hill. Replacing cricket is relative; I’m too crocked now to compete seriously at le velo.

It was the absolute love of @BrockwellLido that *almost* kept me in South London. You can’t survive on the last of the summer wine forever, and a lido lifestyle can be a miserable ball and chain to be shackled with during those dark winter months.

But how to say goodbye to an activity that has been at the centre of my South London #hyperlocal universe for the past fifteen summers?

My love affair with the lido started almost as soon as we first moved into South London during the summer of ’95. I kept on hearing about this mythical outdoor pool during my first few weeks in Brixton. A weekend run around Brockwell Park led me to the formal introduction. We’ve had an intimate relationship ever since.

The start of May until the end of September have been put aside for the past fifteen years as Lido Days. It is an addiction that means my working day is not complete unless I have indulged. Breaking the Brockwell habit is going to come at a high cost.

The attraction is mainly physical, partly emotional. I embrace the freshness of the water washing over me each morning in an almost ritualistic manner, providing clarity and perspective for the working day ahead.

The lido has become my thinking place in South London. Most of my major life decisions have been made here in an environment where I am truly clear of any outside distraction or influence. Ironically, the decision to leave South London was made whilst under the cool waters of Lake Brockwell.

Starting your morning with a gentile introduction, albeit a rather physically brutal and mentally bruising experience, leaves you with positive thoughts that remain throughout the day. Colleagues have long since stopped asking me why I am grinning insanely at 9am.

Catching the dancing rays of the sun as they reflect down on to the pool basin is better than any sterile, soulless Brixton Rec indoor swimming experience. Seeing a flock of geese provide you with a personal flyover is an added bonus.

The lido is MY lido. This is a claim that every other lido swimmer would also no doubt make. It can also be yours if you choose it to be. The experience and routine of the daily dip becomes a highly personalised one. You are in complete control of your own immediate environment. No one can touch you [um, not quite true] and anything is achievable.

I feel that I know every physical feature of the pool, from where the uneven white edges around the perimeter start to crack, down to the gradual tethering of the shallow end and the exact spot where you need to raise your knees to prevent grazing on the pool basin.

I can judge with my eyes closed (and usually they are) the precise point where my feet need to make contact as I push off from the deep end as I turn around to do it all again. I swim blind - not in the literal sense, although the pool is home to a number of sight-impaired swimmers.

I have seen many weird and wonderful sights down by the waters of Lake Brockwell over the years. The bonkers underwater hoover, the official Hold Yer Breath Underwater National Championships, and even having to share my lido experience with some model submarines that tried to dive bomb me in the deep end. That’s not something you see every day down at Brixton Rec.

But perhaps the weirdest experience is that of my fellow lido swimmers. All lovely, all totally bonkers. It is the defining feature of someone who chooses to swim outdoors in a water temperature that your body wants to resist, but your mind wants you to indulge in.

My favourite lido moments are the extremes - falling asleep in the suntrap terrace on a South London scorcher of an afternoon, or swimming in the rain mid-September and being the single custodian of the waters of Lake Brockwell. The mid-winter Brockwell Icicles experience takes this crazed approach to aquatic hedonism a stage further.

The building itself may change, but the ambience remains. I was alarmed over the architectural vandalism that the winter 2006 re-build by Fusion proposed. The demolition of an art deco wall, and then replacing it with a full on body pump style gym, could have killed off Brockwell Lido for me.

Somehow the smoke and mirrors trick has managed to hide away the dirty business of the gym bunnies. What goes on behind that wall we don’t talk about, but at least it brings in the money for Fusion, and guarantees a future for the lido.

Remarkably the unique lido ambience is still more or less in place after the most significant building works in the pool’s seventy-year history. This is a place of community, a place to meet people and a place to escape the nearby madness of the city.

It is this companionship that I treasure the most. Seeing fellow swimmers for the first time in the season is always a diary date to look forward to. Saying farewell at the end of September only reminds you of the winter misery months to come. I confess to slipping out quietly on Sunday, not wanting to cause a scene, not wanting to blubber on my final Brockwell Lido day.

And so where to now? Nearby Colchester has the new Garrison pool (fitness swimming) and Leisure World (wave machine hell.) I’m hoping to continue the outdoor aquatic lifestyle, by finding my own personal space downstream in the Colne estuary.

Perhaps this will be the biggest personal legacy that @BrockwellLido leaves upon me. Outdoor swimming is the purest form in which to participate. But to participate effectively, you need companionship. The unique collision of an art deco building in South London with a collective of crazed outdoor aquatic types, is going to be simply irreplaceable.

I regret that I am not going to be around for the BLU AGM next month. It is a social highlight of the lido season, and provides me with my annual opportunity to ask why I should have to pay twice to swim in pools owned by @lambeth_council. Fifteen years of swimming, and I still haven’t heard a satisfactory answer.

But anyway: come on in - the water’s… Brrrrr.

Early Sunday morning and @BrockwellLido was bloody closed - again. After the run of five closures during the balmy days of June, I thought Fusion had finally understood how to manage an outdoor swimming pool.

Only yesterday and I was commenting to the lovely Lido Peter how the clear, blue waters of Lake Brockwell have returned, just in time for the season close at the end of September. Sunday morning however had the familiar “chemical imbalance” given as the reason for the lack of aquatic action.

Bugger.

To be fair to Fusion, all members have been offered a 10% discount on the joining fee for the 2011 season. Cynics might say that this serves only as an incentive to sign up yet again. What’s the point if you’re buggering off @BrockwellLido continues to suffer the same fate next summer?

Having dragged my backside down to Brockwell Park early on Sunday morning, the inconvenience for me was more of a personal and emotional disappointment.

The tally chart counting down my final days of outdoor swimming in SE24 is almost in single digits. A closed pool is about as welcome as a LambethLabour pledge of “free swimming for every resident” right now.

Ah yes - about that pre-election promise of “free swimming for every resident…”

In the absence of any @BrockwellLido action, I returned down Railton Road and found myself staring into the abyss of Brixton Rec.

Blimey.

The queue at reception finally cleared after five minutes - this was 9am on a Sunday morning, after all. Ahead of me to be served was a young mother with three small kids. She asked for an adult swimming ticket, and three passes for the free swimming for her children.

“Sorry,” said the GLL receptionist. “Free swimming is no longer available.” A price was quoted, which didn’t leave much change out of a £20 note. Not surprisingly the young mother had to explain to her three small kids that swimming wasn’t going to happen today.

I paid my £3.50, and then walked past the petition on the wall set up by the Brixton Rec Users Group. It calls for @LambethLabour to reconsider its decision to slash free swimming for under 16′s and over 60′s. The election pledge of “free swimming for every resident” has long since been sacrificed.

I’m told that just over 2,000 signatures have so far been collected by local leisure users - quite an achievement. One thousand more are still required for the Rec Users Group to force the next Full Council meeting to actually take the petition seriously and debate the matter.

That Lambeth Life Power to the People twaddle of a headline is looking more false as the @LambethLabour cuts start to kick in.

With the disappointment of Brockwell behind me, and now ready to experience the delights of Brixton Rec on a Sunday morning, I showered and slipped into the pool. Five minutes later and I was finished.

It was simply impossible to undertake any form of exercise in a public pool that is rammed bumper to bumper with swimmers early on a Sunday morning. That’s what happens when the “success story” of leisure in Lambeth leads to only one pool that is actually open in the entire borough.

I’ll be back at the waters of Lake Brockwell come Monday morning. If the “chemical imbalance” is still lingering, I’ll have to admit defeat and accept that the buggers have won.

“Free swimming for every resident?”

Only in the Rotten Borough…

And so a final Lambeth Country Show for me, and I pondered the idea of spreading my love around the beauty of Brockwell Park in a sober state.

Silly boy. It didn’t last.

It was good to see the Brockwell Park gates finally back in place at the bodged Herne Hill junction. Workmen have been, um, working around the clock as the countdown to the Country Show started in mid-summer.

The bodged Herne Hill junction seemed to just about stand up to its first real test, but then the critical mass of Chucklehead Cider drinkers seems to somehow cut a sway through the cars.

The crowds seemed down on previous years, but then that was probably because I was doing my Brockwell Park wobbling walking as soon as the Show started at 11am on Saturday morning. Come chucking out time at 7pm, and SE24 was home to half of Lambeth.

There are no standout highlights - what could possibly go wrong with the promise of the countryside comes to the city? I enjoyed as ever my conversations with the many local groups, some of them serving the local community brilliantly, others just plain bonkers.

The Aussie sheep shearing man was something of a tease. Steady. He knew exactly how to work a crowd, explaining the finer points of shearing, without actually introducing the star act on to the stage.

When Dolly finally made her appearance, he held her down in an arm lock that, um, just didn’t look quite right. The suggestion that my current out of control sideburns should be subjected to the same treatment was anything but a tease.

The fit young grinning Christian female didn’t seem to comprehend my answer of “atheist” when I agreed to answer her questionnaire, and it came down to the what religion are you question. She looked squeaky clean, and rather stunning. My attempts to introduce her to atheism, via the Chucklehead Cider stall and a quick romp in the log circle, failed as miserably as my attempts to stay sober.

Ah yes - about that Chucklehead. There’s no getting away from the fact that the countryside comes to the city mantra of the Country Show has been taken over in recent years with Chucklehead Cider crossed with jerk chicken. It remains the same ethos of sorts, yet slightly more realistic when describing the average experience.

Going out on a high, I caned it big time. I peaked far too early of course, and barely managed to stay awake for the Alabama 3 homecoming acoustic set. The decision to freshen up at the Lido en route back to base wasn’t such a great idea.

The cider celebration meant that I missed the Vegetable That Looks Like a Thingy competition. Judging was still in place as we passed the tent before midday. I didn’t like to risk a return after the Chucklehead had set in.

I did wander once again past the scarecrow competition, spending five minutes chatting up what I thought was the squeaky clean fit young Christian bird once again. I banged on about the benefits of an atheist lifestyle, only realising that her lack of conversation was because she was a scarecrow.

Cripes.

Time to call it quits, time to bugger off back to base.

My final Lambeth Show was probably my favourite in fifteen summers - the scarecrows were ace, the Dark Knight of Brockwell Park was bloody brilliant and even the “they’re not real” owls who don’t exactly do a lot, kept my attention for abut ten seconds.

But the real winner of course was *shhh* the booze.

Blimey.

Chucklehead cider is the type of refreshment that your body can only accommodate once a year. I decided to bow out in style, carrying cartons of the poison back and forth across the park. I’m still trying to piece together some of those lost memories.

And so farewell then the Lambeth Country Show. I would say that you will be missed, but I can’t quite recall many of the details over the past fifteen years to be honest.

The countdown starts here for the Wivenhoe Urban Show, boi.

Oh dear. Here we go again. Just as the second heat wave of mid-summer is set to hit South London over the weekend and whaddya know - @BrockwellLido is bloody CLOSED. Again.

This is turning out to be a major corporate cock up for Fusion down in SE24. It’s a repeat of that familiar theme of “chlorine issues.” I make this the fifth occasion this summer that Fusion has proved to be [steady] unfit for purpose.

The awarding of the twenty-five year lease to pimp out the pool on behalf of @lambeth_council appeared to have safety checks built in. It was crucial that a reliable ‘preferred partner’ was selected to take on the huge social responsibility of managing the stewardship of a much loved community facility within South London.

Those meet ‘n greet the bidders sessions back at the Town Hall during February 2003 contained many false promises made by Fusion. The corporate leisure company took on the lido lease with a commitment to maintain the unique ambience and atmosphere established during the Paddy and Casey @BrockwellLido Golden Years.

The stuffy corporate image has slowly, slowly become all pervasive around the poolside. It manifests itself with the removal of the street art put in place by Paddy and Casey, the appearance of corporate branding, and yes, the physical divide between lido lovers and lido café restaurant diners – a wooden fence has actually appeared of late, keeping the riff raff of swimmers away from the café restaurant.

This is the least of the worries within our lido community - we now just want a bloody pool that is open each morning for our daily swim.

Let us not forget that Casey also pitched in with his proposal to run the lido some seven years ago. Another figure worth remembering is that the lido didn’t suffer a single “chlorine issue” in that run of twelve glorious @BrockwellLido Golden Days.

In a year when shutting swimming pools has been something of a recurring theme around these parts, the five closures (and counting) this summer @BrockwellLido have to be viewed in perspective.

It is the inconvenience that hits you the hardest - dragging your backside to Brockwell Park early morning, only to find that Fusion has messed up once again only spoils the routine and rhythm of your day.

Bloody Brixton Rec it is then…

Refunds have been promised by Fusion for the five days that have been missed so far this summer. I’m still waiting to see any return in my bank account.

And so if it’s not the “chlorine issues” that gets you @BrockwellLido then it’s possibly the break-ins (two so far this summer.)

Failing that then it’s the complete incompetence of Fusion as a corporate company to understand exactly what is required to manage a local facility that quite simply *is* the South London summer for folk around here.

Brockwell Park bound and *shhh* discretion is required as I attended my annual (and probably final) inspection of the beautiful Brockwell Secret Garden at the height of midsummer.

For one month in the year, the walled garden of SE24 is truly spectacular (it’s simply spectacular for the remaining eleven months of the year.)

Hidden away behind the community greenhouse and acting as a South London sun trap, it is these late June days when the true splendour of Brockwell is best appreciated.

My early morning visit found me at one with the garden. Not a single other person in sight, which is probably where the secret part of the prefix comes from.

I positioned myself with a micro lens to capture the foliage from up close, disturbed only by a lone bee, before taking something of a soaking from a hidden sprinkler.

The high point was finding the flowering magnolia, something that my rather weak specimen back at base has failed to achieve in fours summers of SW8 attendance. We’re hopeful that the sea breeze of Wivenhoe might make a difference.

With work commitments waiting, my annual pilgrimage was as short as it was delightful. Sketches are in place, and hopefully midsummer 2011 might see something a lot closer to home to capture the beauty of an English garden at the high point of summer.