And that’s partly because the event isn’t a race. There is an optional 400-metre race to kick things off, but the main focus is the social swim: a three-hour slot where you can swim for as long or as little as you like. As someone who is firmly in the uncompetitive camp, I spend 45 minutes gliding through the clear water.

When I eventually return to land and am given my medal, I’m directed to the bar for canapés and hot chocolates. I’m relieved by the smaller crowd; it makes the task of chatting to strangers seem much less daunting. In just a few hours, I chat with more new people than I’ve ever managed across my years of attending Pride parades. We cover everything from swimming through the winter to our pet cats.

Chantel Rose is one of the volunteers at the event and feels similarly: “It’s been really nice just to talk to people, without it being like they think that you’re hitting on them. It’s just been a chance to socialise and make friends with people that actually live around the corner. There’s someone here who climbs at the same place as me, so it’s been cool to just find people who do similar things in a different venue.”

As I leave the waterside, I’m aware I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on how different it’s been from other LGBTQ+ or swimming events. Yet, the feelings of liberation, safety, and community I’m left with feel the same – minus the booze and crowds. It’s not an either-or, but perhaps it’s time to take Pride further than just the parade.

“I went to the UK’s first LGBTQ+ Pride swim – here’s why it’s a brilliant sober alternative for celebrating our community”