Winter Swims Tend to Shortness

The other day, after the habitual dog walking, Eloise and I decided to go to South Bank.

I thought it might be nice to visit the Museum, maybe have a sandwich.

So I thought it a little odd that Eloise was putting on her swimming costume, but she's sartorially individual, shall we say, and was wearing the habitual three pairs of socks, so I took it in my stride and we hopped into the car and set off.

Half way up the road a little voice came from the back: "Oh no, I've forgotten my goggles!"

"And why would you be needing those?"

"Well for swimming of course."

"And what about the towel, then, and the change of clothes?"

So after equipping ourselves (I put on some trunks underneath my jeans, in case of emergency) we set off again to sample the winter delights of the South Bank swimming complex.

It should be said that after the floods, South Bank has been out of action, and the pools reinstated to their full glory only recently. The artificial beach had to be de-sanded, the sand disinfected, and the pool repaired.

But now re-opened, in she hopped up to her ankles before pronouncing it far too cold.

So we headed up to the water park, and she waded around in there, and gamboled in the fountains for all of three or four minutes before insisting that we retire to the changing rooms, then grab an ice cream.

We did make it to the Museum in the end, though.