The comments were to be expected when I told friends and family I was off to try my local swim group in south-west London. “The Thames? Really?”, “You’re not putting your head under, are you?” and “Isn’t it supposed to be riddled with all sorts of… diseases?”
I could hardly blame them for worrying. Our capital’s beloved river might look glistening and romantic when you’re walking over Tower Bridge or along its banks at sunset, but I’ve seen too much of that foamy yellow pollution layer and read too many horror stories about Weil’s disease to ever think about getting in. I’ve rowed on it, paddleboarded on it, dipped the odd toe in. But thought to actually go swimming in it? Never.
