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I'm better than you, because I swim at a lido

By Mary Fisher, who was just posting on social media that she was off to the lido actually

OH, you swim? Oh. You swim at an indoor municipal pool. You have my pity, for I would not dream of taking the waters anywhere but a lido. 

To swim under a roof other than the bluest sky? It can hardly be termed swimming. Yes, the immersion in water for purposes of exercise bears some similarities, but that is the least of it. It does not have the freedom, the sensuality, of lido life.

I am, I confess, something of a lido connoisseur. A regular at all the major – meaning London – lidos, my boho-inspired crocheted swimwear is a familiar sight. Not that I’m showing off, I’m there simply for exercise and blessed cool.

Perhaps that’s what you think you’re at your little pool for, plowing up and down your lanes like mice in a particularly dull maze. The stench of chlorine as overwhelming as it was in the trenches of the Great War, and spirits no higher.

It could not be more different from the lido. Where spirits soar into the azure heavens. Where showers are taken in the open air. Where water beads on our tanned bodies reflecting rainbows onto the pristine white tile. You probably have athlete’s foot.

It’s not just London. I’ve visited all the major lidos in the south and even that Instagrammable one in the Peak District. My arching dive is a familiar sight. While at your pool you have a grubby pound-shaped keyring for your locker and get floating Elastoplast in your mouth.

Yes, I am truly at the apex of the aquatic hierarchy because I exclusively swim at the lido. What’s that? You swim at Hampstead Ponds? F**k, that’s better.

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Five things that should be banned in pubs before vertical drinking

THERE’S a row over whether standing in pubs, or ‘vertical drinking’, should be banned. But there are plenty of other irritations to ban first, like these. 

Pints that cost more than a fiver

A fiver should be the upper limit for the most swanky of London watering holes. For the rest of the country, a nice round £2.50 will suffice. The prices should be clearly marked too, to put an end to the heart-stopping terror of buying three pints and somehow owing £17. There’s no legal reason some glasses of watery hops should cost that much.

Creepy old guys in the corner

Indecipherable weirdos drinking in the corner by themselves are an institution of British pubs. Just like smoking though, it’s time these outdated relics were left in the past. Facebook petitions will try to bring back slurring creeps who hit on your girlfriend, but everyone else will wonder why they were ever tolerated. They’ll be allowed in beer gardens, as a compromise.

Queuing for the bar

Orderly queues of people waiting to be served make sense at the supermarket or the Jobcentre. They take up too much space in pubs though, and make everyone in line look like a twat. A crowded bar is also one of the last places to meet people who want to punch you simply because you nudged their elbow. You don’t get that sort of charming camaraderie standing in a row.

Self-righteous smartphone bans

Put simply, pubs shouldn’t lose their shit if you quickly scroll on your phone when your mate’s gone for a piss. That’s perfectly normal behaviour. Staring off into the distance due to having no distractions makes you look like a psycho, and leaves your brain vulnerable to terrible drunken ideas like ‘I should start a podcast’.

Barmaids that don’t pretend to fancy you

Everyone knows hot barmaids probably have a boyfriend waiting for them at home. But when they flirt with you over your choice of bar snack, for a brief moment you’re allowed to dream. Female pub staff should incur a hefty fine if they don’t give a cheeky wink when pulling a pint, or be sent on a special training course where they learn how to hand over a packet of pork scratchings seductively.

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