It was back to the swimming pool last night for Mrs S and me. After last week's triumph of fourteen lengths, we were hoping to beat this into submission with at least two more. I got there early. I always get everywhere early. I blame my father, for consistently telling me and Miss R that that if you're late, you are basically telling that person that your time is more important than theirs. I have memories of a boyfriend (not the husband you'll be pleased to hear) who was always picking me up late from home. After coercion from my dad, I left a note on the front door saying that that I'd had a better offer. I hadn't, naturally. (I had bad hair and a dubious dress sense so they were never queuing up). I was just sitting in my room with a Jackie Collins book and a cup of tea, but my pride was intact even though my heart wasn't, as of course he dumped me soon after.
So back to the swimming. Like I said, I got their early, and my heart sank at the sight of about thirty ankle biters in the queue for tickets. Doing my normal earwigging, I learned that they were here for a Swimming Party. Judging by the noise and excitement, I would guess that some level of confectionary had already been consumed (probably Skittles which my children have never been allowed since 1998). They were bouncing off the ceiling, and the thought of sharing my lane with this lot was worrying me somewhat.
Mrs S finally turned up (on time, sensible girl) and looked as terrified as me when she saw all the kids, but we de-robed and headed for the wet stuff. I always take my towel with me even though the life guard said it would probably be stolen, but on this occasion it was a wise move, petty theft or not.
We managed a solid ten lengths before the wave machine kicked in. All the kids knew where to get the biggest impact from this, and were all gathered up in one corner, looking like a load of seagulls riding the tide. I said to Mrs S that maybe the wave would be so big that it would wash the whole noisy lot out of the front door, but no such luck, After ten minutes of wave action, the screaming reached new levels, and then all the kids vacated the pool and headed for the slide. Why is it that kids in a group always have to do everything together? Consequently, we watched as the kids all queued up the steps, shivering for ten minutes till their turn came for seven seconds of downhill joy.
One week, Mrs S and I will brave the slide. Just not this week.
So we carried on swimming, with Mrs S finishing with a spectacular twenty two lengths under her belt. I managed eighteen which I was more than happy with. Chatting at the end of our swim, my heart sank. Grabbing Mrs S by the arm, I said, 'Oh no. It's one of the drivers from work'. Sitting poolside with his phone in hand, we tried to get out without him noticing us. Unfortunately we failed, mainly because Mrs S in her wisdom decided to shout at him.
Climbing the ladder to get out of the pool, I said to Mrs S that this would be all round the drivers' canteen by lunchtime tomorrow, and that he probably had photographic evidence.
There has never been a time when I have been more pleased to see my towel.....ever...