With the gang back and the car broke it has been a weekend without exercise and we all know the importance of physical exercise to aid mental health. So quite late at night; I decided that I would get up at 0715 hours the next morning and pop along to the swimming pool. This would have been OK if I had thought about it early enough to get my stuff ready and have a shave the night before. But alas the witching hour came and went before the thought of swimming had occurred. So there I was early in the morning fumbling round the room looking for clothes and my long lost swimming trunks and towel and with every movement making noises that were likely to disturb the grandchildren there was no way that I could fit in a shave.
Fitting in things is something I was not thinking of when I arrived at the pool. Indeed, I should have been thinking that way, because as I stepped through the door from the changing room to poolside; I had to rapidly think of ways of fitting myself into a lane. I mean, how on earth do so many people get up so early and only do so on the day that I need a swim? Luckily I caught a break and as I popped into the water, someone the other end of the lane next to the ladder, popped out. This was pretty cool for me as I was now tucked in against the wall and could safely swim up and down or 'trawl' as I call it. Now I know that it was busy, but why did everyone want to swim with and against me when there was a perfectly good lane next door? “Mr Popular or what”, thought I as the first ten and then twenty lengths were done.
I had a few brushes with the other swimmers, there was the chap who just avoided me, the one who swam at me, and the one who swam in front of me until my front crawl touched his ankle. I mean, come on folks, I am in the inside lane tight against the wall. LEAVE ME ALONE! But want I don’t get is the lady doing the backstroke in a crowded pool. Yes, you may think that you move in perfect harmony with tight arms neatly oscillating. When in fact, what actually faced others in the pool was the dance of the flaying hands and flying fingers. As tight as I was to the wall, the inconsiderate act struck me across my face and down my right cheek but thankfully I had my swimming goggles on and my eyes were safe. Do backstroke by all means, but start doing the lottery as well, and go and buy yourself a private pool. Or swim a stroke that includes looking ahead, so that you can swim straight and not strike others.
Smarting from my physical assault, I was aware of my unshaven look. Not a cool look, like those male models have who wear designer clothes. No this is the over 50 in need of a shave look. It then occurred to me that my trusty Remington shaver was in a pouch inside my swimming bag. Now this was a long shot as the thing had last been charged up some two and a half years ago. Even as I unzipped the pouch I was thinking shall I shan’t I. Unbelievably it sprung into life. The light may have been RED but the blades whirred. I even shaved left and right in case the thing died early, but I should have had a bit more confidence as the Remington brought about a close shave. This of course was a nice end to a session that had included the ‘flaying hands’ of the inconsiderate. Four pens from the previous Blog entry, and four fingers with this one, so what on earth would happen next?
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