I retired from a promising swimming career at 12, taking it up again in my mid 30s.

I never liked the training. Sunday evening. Floats. Up and down.

Or galas at the Ken Martin.

Of course, I liked to race, but I remember very little enjoyment.

It was like sport, but all gym and no ball. No game.

Eddie, the coach, called me David and I didn’t correct him.

As soon as I felt I could make a choice, I chose pitches over pools, and coaches who knew my name.

My certificates are for breaststroke. But as an adult, it’s front crawl in the medium lane.

Early, Sunday mornings.

Camberwell, West Norwood. Kimberley, Beechdale, and Bramcote. And now the Auchrannie Spa, and Hotel.