Wednesday, 4 September 2013

No Running, No Bombing and No Petting

I took my son swimming today in the local pool and it cost me the princely sum of £8.60 (pah!)  I rarely swim in pools as my favourite place to take a dip is the sea as regular readers of my various ramblings will undoubtedly already be aware.  This is of course, despite the possibility of being nipped on the bottom by a crustacean. 

The pool to which I refer is located in the council's sports centre and boasts two pools, a teaching one and a much bigger one for lengths and stuff like that.  I'd forgotten how warm the former was because, quite frankly, I don't think I've taken him since he had lessons as a six-month-old baby.  Why not, you may ask?  Well, I don't really enjoy it and today's experience only stood to underline exactly why this is - crowds - being unable to use the floats in the pool - pushy parents and most importantly, hairy tattooed men and whalesque women.  Yes, this is unfair and I'm hardly svelte myself, but honestly!

I did laugh though as they still have those signs from the past which we all used to snigger at, which I've reproduced above.  My son, being the strange autistic soul that he is, wanted to read the various rules over and over again, but me, being myopic, couldn't really make them out, which was nice.  Actually, recently he has become obsessed by the colour and design of the upholstery on the various different train franchises - yes, really.  Also, he likes watching YouTube videos which have been uploaded from EuroSport and pertain to a German language version of ten pin bowling.  Hmm.

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