Gill writes:
I haven’t quite been snared by the ‘wild swimming’ bug like some of my friends have been. My social media feeds over the last couple of years have been increasingly peppered with images of friends in swimsuits, wetsuits, and a glamourous array of swimming hats. They are diving into plunge pools at the foot of waterfalls, or emerging from misty lakes, or walking towards a grey sea with a bunch of swimming buddies arm in arm.
Of course, I have considered succumbing to the bug. I do like swimming. I do like paddling in waves. I’ve always enjoyed building dams and striding through shallow rivers. However, I don’t like creatures swimming anywhere near me (this is the woman who ventured into Lake Galilee, took one look at all the fish, and walked straight back to the swimming pool). And I don’t like ‘deep.’ I think I am as much scared of depth as I am of heights. I once had to swim a race at Wigan International Pool (now gone) which was a 50m pool with a 5m deep end. I’d never been so fast at the beginning of a race as I was that day.
This song, however, took me to the seawater pool at Southport on the first time of hearing it. Possibly not in January as the song suggests but there were days in May and June when you couldn’t feel your hands or feet
Red bikini, running, slipping
Get your stuff, we’re going swimming
In January
I can’t feel my feet or my hands
Making me watch you do handstands
Is this why you brought me?
I love it when a song conjures up nostalgic feelings where we can place our own images onto it. You don’t have to be from the north-west to understand handstands in water and shivering until the warmth of towels and clothes take effect. Of course, the rest of the song takes me further down memory lane as it’s all about Liverpool (where the band are from) – a pool where I would happily drown.
Don’t let me down
If you listen, there’s a beautiful sound
In a cold north western town
We found a pool where we’d happily drown
I wish I was there right now
One of the phrases that have crept into our vocabulary fairly recently is ‘making memories.’ I can’t say that I warm to it really. There’s something a bit too ‘consumerist’ in it for me, and it goes hand in hand with visiting a place because it looks good on Instagram. Perhaps I’m too much of a cynical Gen X-er but this phrase attributed to AA Milne (but probably not from him at all) works better for me – ‘We didn’t realise we were making memories, we were just having fun.’
I do concede, however, that it’s important to stop and savour the moment. We can be so caught up analyzing yesterday or preparing for tomorrow that we are not actually living in the present and noticing the small moments. I can’t, therefore, argue with the intentionality of ‘making memories.’ I think that great memories in our lives are of moments when all of our senses are engaged; we feel valued and loved; and we feel connected with others.
This song captures these feelings for me because my memories of living in Liverpool are full of love, laughter, new experiences, adventures and feeling liberated. It goes without saying that watching the video is no less nostalgic for me.
And because I was living in the moment so much, I can appreciate those days with lots of affection without a desperate yearning to go back to those times and places. They were special there and then; it wouldn’t be the same if I returned to try and recapture it all. After all, I am too busy living where I am right now.
Happiness Researcher (yes, it is an actual job) Meik Wiking says in his book ‘The Art of Making Memories’ – “As long as you live, keep learning how to live. And remember: one day, your life will flash before your eyes – make sure it is worth watching.”
I hope this summer is a time where you are blessed with moments of feeling connected, noticed, and loved. Go ahead and make some memories – and take time to be in the moment.
If you’d like to know more about Red Rum Club, check out their website at https://www.redrumclub.com/

