Tuesday 24th August

Having been on holiday last week, the healthy weekly-swim regime had to take a week off. It had all been going so well too (apart from the odd session postponed due to my general wussiness rearing its head as soon as it starts raining outside) – but the fact that Tuesday to Sunday last week was spent eating and drinking more or less constantly (see the relevant blog posts for irrefutable evidence of this) means that I currently feel about three weeks behind in terms of exercise. As a result, even the gentle walk from home up to the swimming pool seems like a bit of a slog, though the weather is nice enough to make the meander through Priory Park a pleasant diversion. I arrive at Park Road a bit early, as usual, and sit on a bench enjoying the latest Football Ramble podcast while waiting for K to turn up.

I start my usual slow/medium lane regime, counting down from my target of 30 lengths. It's immediately obvious that I'm slightly out of practice, as the first 10 lengths or so are a real struggle. However, by the time I get closer to 30 I'm properly in my stride (if you can be said to stride in a swimming pool) and manage to stick a few more on at the end. I'm also mildly entertained by one of the men in my lane trying to chat up a girl, managing to sneak a few words of conversation each time they're stopped for breath at the same end. Unfortunately for the hopeful chap, she soon seems to be ensuring that they're never at the same end together – setting off well before he gets to her end. Eventually he gives up and gets out. It's probably for the best – it's virtually impossible to get someone's phone number when you're in a swimming pool. I'd imagine.

K is a little tired from a hard day's work, but she manages her full me-shaming quota of lengths and we head out to get dry. Outside it's noticeably darker than it was at this time a few weeks ago, and we walk through the park when it's probably just a little darker than is safe. There's a fairly intimidating boy doing circles around the grass on his moped, but other than that we pass through unmolested. Back at home we eat the leftovers from last night's bolognese and watch the latest Mad Men – which might be the best one of this series so far.