
BEWARE: People like this could be in YOUR pool.....
So, there I was. I go there every day. The swimming pool. Sanctuary for the soul. It’s calm waters soothing me as the Spanish sunlight gentle kisses the barely unruffled surface. Mostly.
I can deal with the classes of stupidly loud children, because they are usually shepherded out prior to them drowning themselves. I also have a pet nutter, who unfortunately contrives to get changed exactly when I do, and, following a total mis-communication about my body lotion some weeks back, has taken to calling me ‘Mr. Chocolate’ – often when others are in the changing room, which could lead to potentially embarrassing situations. Or death. I tried to ignore him, but one day made the mistake of talking to an English guy (the nutter is Spanish) and he proceeded to speak incredibly loudly, stamping his feet and clapping his hands. He was like an entire Salvation Army band on speed. It seems then that Spain has opted for care in the community…..
Anyway, he’s calmed down a little of late, and I now lock myself in the disabled shower room and get showered, dried and dressed before making a beeline for the exit, and thereby managing to avoid eye-contact. But onward to my gripe.
Today, I was happily swimming away in the only free lane, languidly scooping the water aside with my hugely impressive breast-stroke stylee, when an older lady had the temerity to enter the water and begin to use MY LANE AT THE SAME TIME!!!! What kind of bare-faced intimidation was this? I asked myself (but only in my head, fearful of swallowing a huge amount of water in which 50 small children had recently been rinsed.)
Now, being a fair-minded sort of individual, I gave this person the benefit of the doubt, as there were no completely free lanes, but as she entered the water, the lane next to me in which one of the lifeguards appeared to have been torturing several young boys by making them retrieve rubber hoops from the pool bottom time and again, suddenly became free. It remained free, as the elderly lady made her way down my lane. I swam a further three lengths with my ill-matched and unwanted partner, giving her the chance to move her arse next door. She did not do so. The temerity!
There was I, totally outstripping this flounderer in the twilight of their lives, and I had to make the lane change for fear of becoming lost in a tangle of underwater wrinkles. How can this be? Why do these people need a full-length pool anyway? By the time they get to the other end, we’ve put the clocks back. On the other side of the pool, a lifeguard-ess, barely out of secondary school is making more old women move incredibly slowly underwater to the beat of music they plainly detest. (In fairness, so do I)
The thing is, these women never change. they stay fat, they stay old, and they don’t appear to get any fitter, so what is it all for? Are they pretending they’re in outer space? I’ll contribute to re-introducing the space shuttle to put them there. then they can swim to their hearts content.
Kev Moore