The first thing I fell in love with was the bodies. Hairy ones. Small, curved, and contoured ones. Long, flat, and slightly out-of-proportion ones. Smooth, oily, suncream-covered ones. Wobbly, lovely little dimpled ones. And every other kind of one you could imagine. If there’s a singular piece that celebrates the female body in all its gorgeously raw glory, Kenwood Ladies’ Pond at Hampstead Heath is it.
As a regular visitor for more than a decade, I am hopelessly devoted to it and have been ever since my first dip. I’ve spent endless afternoons in that meadow in various states of repose: alone with a book, picking at tubs of olives with old friends, bitching about bad dates with new ones. During the few years when I was lucky to live within running distance, I’d often jog there with a bikini underneath my workout clothes only to instantly disrobe on arrival and cool down in the water. It was heaven. That brings me to the pond itself: bracing, intimidatingly deep, and mystically peaceful. You enter the water as one version of yourself and emerge as another.
