I might go against the flow and ask to swim in safe rivers
I never noticed how many No Swimming signs there were on our waterways until the heat went to my head this week and I jumped in the river for some not-so-skinny-dipping.
It was hot and sticky as I walked our pug dog Boris along the banks of the local River Itchen on Sunday evening, and the cool, clear chalk streams looked so inviting.
Ignoring the No Swimming No Fishing sign on the other side of the river, I stripped off to my bra and
Our fishy laws are about as clear as a city canal full of old trolleys
pants and jumped into the waisthigh water, watched only by a couple of fascinated cows looking for the rest of my herd.
After a deliciously cooling dip, I squelched back to the car to collect my daughter Jesse from a Day-Glo disco birthday party at the nearby youth centre, and wondered why as a nation we don’t demand more access to wild swimming spots just as the right to roamers have reclaimed the countryside for hikers in dangerously static fleeces.
Opening up more safe, wild swimming spots in the UK could possibly prevent the death toll every summer of youngsters who drown in the deep, cold water of abandoned quarry sites.
And it seems to me that it’s much easier to supervise little kids splashing about in shallow inland streams and rivers rather than the tidal waters off our coasts.
I’ll never forget when I was about
Jesse’s age on a family holiday in Clacton, Essex, and I floated out to sea on my lilo. Only my eagle-eyed mum saved me from being turned into a tinned sardine by Spanish fishing trawlers before I reached Zeebrugge.
While I waited for Jesse and her friends to teach the parents on party pick-up duty how to do the latest floss dance (without needing a hip replacement), I Googled the laws on public access to rivers.
Sadly I didn’t have time to read the entire Magna Carta and the 1472 Act for Wears and Fishgarthes, but the upshot was our fishy laws are as unclear as a city canal filled with rusting shopping trolleys.
Climbing into the car, Jesse demanded to know why I had a soggy bottom, which seemed reasonable given the trail of pond weed on my car seat.
So I took her for a dip in my secret river spot – only to get there and find it filled with families now happily splashing around by the No Swimming sign.
The floodgates have been well and truly opened.