Monday 3 December 2012

Hate is a strong word, But...

Hate is a strong word, people often nowadays say they hate something when, really they probably just dislike it. As a result the word 'hate' seems to have lost all meaning. Indeed I have a long list of things I hate; expressive dance, the price of celebration cards, cyclists, cauliflower, busses, wasps, Gary Barlow. But if I go down that list, (with the exception of Mr Barlow) I actually hate very few of them. I for example, wouldn't purposely knock a cyclist off its bike, nor would I set fire to an innocent cauliflower, but one thing that I genuinely do hate is Swimming. or in my case, drowning with much commotion and splashing. I have the same feelings towards swimming as Mrs Thatcher does about British industry, I would quite happily go out, drain every swimming pool in the country and fill them all with sand.
I don't know why I hate it so much, I think it's because I just can't do it, no matter how hard I kick, or how much water gets into my lungs I just can't move in water.

At primary school we had to do swimming, everyone would stand on the edge of the pool looking excited with their 5,10,15,20 meter swimming badges sewn onto their shorts, and then there was me, at the end, shivering, with marbles and concrete sewn into my short pockets. And at primary school we had unisex swimming, boys and girls in the same pool. Which meant someone had to be next to 'Betty', Betty didn't smell very nice, she usually had nits. One of her eyes was weepy, and no matter what time of the year it was she always had a dribble of snot coming from her nose. And if if you were come into contact with Betty, you had Betty germs, which meant you had to wipe them onto a fellow classmate and say "naaaanaaaa, you've got Betty disease" by doing that you automatically cured yourself, strangely no one from my year ever went on to become a doctor. And because I was usually the last into the swimming pool it usually meant I had to slot into the gap between the edge of the pool and Betty, as near to the edge of the pool as possible.
So not only was I concentrating on not drowning, but I had to make sure I avoided Betty, try to avoid standing on the gritty/muddy stuff that had collected at the bottom of the pool, and dodge the inevitable plaster. It really was no wonder I couldn't do it. Once everyone (except me) had mastered swimming on the water, the teacher moved the goal post, now we were swimming under it, through hoops, like some sort of special needs fucking dolphin, or collecting rubber bricks from the bottom of the pool, just in case a career as a lifeguard at a brick factory beckoned. Then once everyone (except me) had mastered that the teacher once against moved the goal posts, now I found myself, back on top of the water, facing upwards, trying to do what the pro's call -backstroke, it's basically swimming upside down, it is slower, more dangerous, harder, and more stupid than front stroke but it is still for some reason seen as a viable way of moving in water. It wasn't all bad though, at the end of each lesson we'd have fun time, which was I assume sarcastically named. It meant the teachers would throw some foam floats (with bite mark) and some balls and hoops into the pool, in a fuck it sort of way. So now not only did I have to avoid Betty, drowning, plasters, mud, but I also had to avoid being hit in the face by a ball. Fun my arse.
It did all build up to something though, the swimming gala, which was an event like sports day, but in water. The four houses, Scott, Cook, Hilary and Drake (mine) would compete for some shit stickers, heavily diluted juice and a digestive biscuit. Parents weren't allowed to watch this event as the pool wasn't big enough, but instead it was a whole school event, so I could not only humiliate myself in front of my classmates, but also people, older, and younger than me. It's fair to say I never got entered in any of the proper races. Only the fun races, which usually involved walking in the pool with a football between your legs, picking up the rubber bricks as you went, first one to the end wins. Anyway third behind wheelchair Tom and blind Mark wasn't bad (well I was fourth if you count Marks Labrador). It's safe to say that I've never managed to put my swimming talents to good use, and I doubt I ever will.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad