Who said swimming is fun?

“Nana, are you coming in the pool today?” The dreaded words fell so easily from his perfect 6 year old mouth. Gazing into his rainbow coloured eyes, and caramac- coloured, perfect face- how could I tell him that I:-

  1. Couldn’t think of anything I’d rather NOT do than swim in the local pool with a zillion other wee soaked children
  2. Would rather watch Jeremy Kyle on loop than show my flabby arse, (which won’t contain itself, to the swimming costume I’d had for the past half century), in public.
  3. Not stand and shiver for 30 minutes whilst squealing toddlers think it’s fun to splash the old woman, (with the baggy arse), teetering on the edge of the pool.

Of course, before I know it, or am able to stop it, the words “of course I am,” come spewing from my ‘oh so punctual mouth.’ Deciding against changing in front of Grandson, (as let’s face it, the sight of the arse covered up is bad enough, we wouldn’t want to scar him for life with the unedited version!), I put my cozzy on under my clothes. In the changing room we squeezed together to get him ready. I did think about wearing a hat ( swimming, not a rather jauntily worn bonnet) but as my friend once remarked, “I’m an ugly bird without my hair,” so decided against it.

Carefully placing the towel around my body, I emerged out into the swimming area. Removing the towel was slightly stressful, but not half as bad as actually getting in the water. I know everyone was watching (that’s what being in a swimming costume does for you- makes you feel so so exposed!), and probably muttering “just get in the ruddy water woman.” Softly, softly, catchee monkey did it. Eventually I was in, and once the pain from the cold water subsided I felt better, mainly due to the fact that my costume adorned body was now underwater and out of public view. Grandson decided we should play sharks, and I was the shark- of course he did! Twenty minutes later as he went off for his lesson, I climbed gracefully (cough) out of the pool and got in at the deep end to swim some lengths. I managed 10 and felt very proud of myself, but finding myself in lane 4, with the steps at lane 1, caused a slight panic. Trying to bob under the lane divider and into the next lane proved more difficult than crossing the M25 in rush hour. To get to the steps took longer than the swim itself! Still, as I got dressed the image of Grandson’s squeals of delight as Nana Shark caught him with her pincers, was worth every excruciating moment, and yes you guessed it- I’m booked in again next week!!  

Image by adrit1 from Pixabay

Image by PixArc from Pixabay