If swimming were not so cold and wet, I am sure I would like it more. As a child I would turn blue with cold … and then throw up. Not great. So when my son wants to go swimming, I sit in the café and watch, with a book and a drink, while my husband has quality bonding time with his offspring.
We are on holiday. There is a pool with a water slide and I was informed that the water was pretty warm by pool standards. So, to my son’s amazement I said I would join them. I think he thought I was like Gizmo and something horrendous would happen if I got wet. I then realised my swimming costume had about as much elastic left in it as a plank of wood. You know how elastic perishes over time and it has that sort of *crunchy* sound when you stretch it? There was not even any crunch left.
So a trip to Debenhams was in order. I hate shopping for clothes. See: https://40inmy40th.wordpress.com/2013/09/11/27-of-40-fabulous-me/ Well, shopping for any kind of underwear is worse. I need decent support here, folks, and not just of the sympathetic kind.
Four trips into the changing rooms later and the shop assistant was noting my looks of desperation. However, success was mine and I left with a two-piece. (One-pieces are Not Flattering, unless the ‘boobs round your waist’ look is suddenly in and no one told me.)
Anyway, off to the pool we went. And up to the top of the water slides we went. Son is underage to go on his own, so we have to go down together. On a kind of figure of eight inner tube, with him in front and me behind; bottoms in the hole, and feet up on the side.
Squealing, whooshing and shrieking our way down, to be deposited in the shallows.
WooHoo, that was FUN. Let’s go again. So we did. I went on a single, we did a double again and then… THEN, my son told me I had to go down the BLUE tube. The FAST tube. The one where there is no inner tube and you shoot out the end. Hmmm.
Well, it IS about time I got some more New Things under my belt. (I HAVE done a few more, just not posted due to chaos of life. Sorry.)
So off I dutifully went. (To be honest, I got a lot more exercise going up the steps than actually swimming.) And shot out the bottom.
Remember that new bikini?
You think you know how this is going, don’t you?
Admit it. You do.
Well, those four trips into the changing room were worth it. Good fit = staying on and in place.
The final double ride, though?
We landed in the splash zone, my son let go the sides and disappeared down the centre of the ring and under the water. Aaargh, I’ve drowned my son! No, he’s OK, he’s surfaced.
I can’t get up.
My bottom is well in the inner tube, and I can’t reach the sides with my feet to get purchase. “Son, give the ring a pull.” He lifts the edge almost vertically. NOT what I meant and my bottom slips further into the ring. He disappears under it again. I flail wildly. He drags me round, I wave my feet in the air. I try to grab the sides of the splash zone and only succeed in sliding further into the ring. Son tows me towards the exit. Not that this helps me any at all, but he thinks it funny.
Where is husband in all this? At the top of the slide waiting to come down in a single ring.
Or so I thought.
One mighty WHOOSH later and he arrives, with the swell of water lifting me and the ring up and over the edge of the splash pool and onto the side.
Ignominiously hauled out by husband I am laughing so hard that I can hardly breathe. I am doubled over and the tears are running down my face. If you have ever been laughing so hard that the lifeguard comes over to check you are OK, and has to double check that you really ARE completely fine because he doesn’t believe you, then you have some idea of what state I was in.
The fast chute may have been the official New Thing, but the laughing fit has been a long time coming and was well needed. So if I can share a smile and possibly even a chortle, then that is a Good Thing.