I swam in the Thames last week. Yes, it is full of sewage – but it is also a beautiful river | Nell Frizzell

Pull on your effluent suits and ring the sewage bell because, friends, Thames Water is being fined . Or at least it might be. The industry regulator, Ofwat, finally said out loud what we have all known for some time: that the privatised water company has been pumping raw sewage into our waterways for years. As a consequence, the company is facing a fine of £104m; just to put that number into context, according to the BBC , Thames Water reported an increase in annual profits to £157.3m last year, but is also facing a debt of £15.2bn. It makes huge profits and has no money; it’s almost as if turning one of life’s most essential building blocks into a commodity to be distributed for private gain wasn’t a great idea in the first place.

The thing about the Thames is that many of us – particularly residents of London and the towns and cities further upstream – don’t really think of it as a river at all. We treat it as a geographical gap; a dividing line between north and south, or between local wards, or between different demographics. It might be scattered with boats, sure, but it’s also scattered with plastic bottles, old shopping trolleys, timber pallets and crisp packets, just like any rundown city car park or alleyway. But the Thames is a river. In many ways, it is one of the most beautiful rivers in Britain; aesthetically and for all the history and culture it holds.

Last week, I walked about 20 miles of the Thames path. Fringed with Himalayan balsam and decaying fencing, it felt, at times, ignored and in disrepair. But at others, with banks and locks surrounded by golden-leaved willow trees, with wild roses and moorhens and deep green water, it was beautiful. I swam in it, of course. But I no longer put my head under. I check my skin for cuts before entering, keep my mouth closed and try my best to avoid the suspicious looking foam that creeps along the surface.

The Thames is a river, I promise. Even when it smells like a toilet.

• Nell Frizzell is the author of Holding the Baby : Milk, Sweat and Tears from the Frontline of Motherhood

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