8:00 a.m., Tooting Bec Lido. It couldn’t be a better morning. A ridiculously blue sky, the sun already warm, the trees surrounding the lido in full resplendent leaf. No dipping my toes this morning, I’m straight down the steps and into the water. It’s cold, but not that gasping-takes-your-breath-away cold. I push off and begin the first length, swimming breaststroke, excited to be back in the water. I’ve timed it well, in between the wet-suited triathlon-training (mostly male) fanatics bombing up and down, and the kids on half-term break. There’s a dozen or so other swimmers, but without lanes it’s easy to avoid them. I love swimming here, under whatever kind of sky. Before the crowds arrive, it’s a peaceful oasis, the occasional train rattling past behind the trees to remind you that you’re still in London. My aim: 14 lengths (which is about 1.4 km, given the length of the pool). Then I towel dry in the sunshine, pull my cycle gear on over damp bathers, and get another dose of invigorating exercise cycling back to Battersea.