Back in the mists of time, when I was but a girl (the 70s), the rules of the pool weren’t really rules. Customers were “patrons” who were requested to “kindly refrain” in a polite “I wonder if you’d mind terribly not doing that?” tone. Some of the things we were asked to kindly refrain from still seem sensible – “running” remains off-the-scale dangerous, and you don’t need to experience someone landing on your head to know that “swimming in the diving area” could be a stupid thing to do. (It was understood that you could actually swim to get out of the diving area once you’d dived in to it, but I suspect that would have to be a stated amendment today.) Then there’s the fun stuff, like shouting (low-risk), acrobatics and gymnastics (slightly bad, potential for falling) and petting, which would probably be called “light to moderate sexual touching” now, were I to stray into some horrible incarnation of The Wright Way. It’s all pointless anyway: the entangled limbs of teenagers are as much part of the summer lido landscape as they ever were.

“Kindly refrain from smoking” is the one that gets the laughs. “Imagine! Smoking in a swimming pool! Who would even do that?” This is the point where I nervously put my hand up. I did. AT AN OUTDOOR POOL, I’m not a brute. Things were more relaxed there, smoking was cool, and going home with flattened cigarette butts stuck to your feet was hilarious and fun. I worked at the outdoor pool in question during the school holidays (in the cafe of course – I would never actually swim, I mean, duh). My lunch hours were spent sitting on the side, feet dangling in the water to cool off, puffing on a fag. Oh, frankly I still would if I could. Come on, admit it, you would too. Who wouldn’t? What could be nicer? (I realise we barely know each other, but please be assured I am a fully qualified sarcastic.)

Things have moved on. Things are definitely more definite and a little more aggressively expressed (cf NO JEANS OR CUT-OFFS). In the past few years, I’ve swum in lots of pools, mostly around London. And since becoming a very keen (by which I mean obsessive) swimmer, I’ve formulated my own list of dos and don’ts. Since we are no longer “patrons” but customers and sometimes even “clients” (I blame Thatcher), mine are not kind requests, though I hope the tone is still polite. This is a list of absolutes. I remain constantly amazed that I’m not in charge and on the day I get my own pool whistle, these are the things I will insist upon:

DON’T:

• Butterfly if there’s another person in the pool. This is a social space, and butterfly is a very antisocial stroke. (Exceptions: I’ve seen it done beautifully, and if that’s you, do carry on: you are magnificent and probably an Olympian. The rest of you? Stop. You are drowning children in your backwash.)

• Be in the wrong lane. Lane etiquette is terribly important. Be honest about the speed you’re swimming, and if you’re not sure, ask me. I’ll probably tell you you’re slower than you think, and that you should move into the medium lane. I am a medium-lane swimmer; there is no shame in it. Every pool should have a lane monitor who thinks exactly like me. With a whistle.

• Be cross if someone backstrokes into you. It happens. Get over it. (It’s probably me. I’m very zigzaggy at backstroke.)

• Hawk into the drains at the end of the pool. Just save your hawking till you get to the changing room. Or swallow it. Yeah, that’s an unpleasant image, but you started it with your hawking.

• Hog the ends. If you’re standing at the end, please make sure there’s room for some obsessive (ahem) to touch the end and push off again. A length doesn’t count unless you touch the end and I don’t want to inadvertently put my hand on … anyway. You get the drift. Move over. (Also, see next rule.)

• Freak out at accidental touching. It doesn’t mean anything but clumsiness. It doesn’t count as “petting”.

• Smoke. It might still need saying. Probably just to me.

DO:

• Wear a cap. I have swum into many clumps of hair in my travels; it’s not pleasant. Put a cap on it.

• Make eye-contact – why not? I know it’s hard in goggles but swimmers are, in my anecdotal experience, mostly nice. Talk, even. If people have a particularly lovely stroke, I tell them. If I like their costume, I ask where they got it. It’s called “interaction” and it’s truly not weird. I recommend it.

• Be aware of what speed you’re doing. (See Don’ts, above.) If there are loads of masters swimmers in, you may be the slowest person in the water – so go into the slow lane. You will only be judged favourably, and life will continue.

• If someone taps your foot, let them overtake you. It’s not a competition. (Unless it is.)

• Shower before you get in the water. If you get in the water dirty, the chlorine levels are YOUR FAULT. Also I don’t want swimming behind you to be a body lotion blind-tasting test.

• Be aware there are other people in the pool. (Yes, triathletes in wet suits at Tooting Bec lido, I’m looking at you.)

• Hawk into the drains at the end, not in the water – IF you have to hawk (see Don’ts, above.)

• Be nice to the people doing head-up breaststroke. That might be you one day. I hope I’m still in the water when that’s all I can manage.

This is an ongoing list, and at the moment it’s mine. In the spirit of that final “be nice”, I’d like to make it more open, more communal – so what would you add to it? If you have any suggestions, any of your own pet peeves or particular delights, behaviour you cherish or abhor in our public pools, I’ll fully consider them – unless they are mean about my own swimming abilities. So be nice.

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