Swimming lessons this morning.
The usual – standard – Thursday morning juggle. What to take, what needs packing, head count before driving out the drive, run back inside to collect mobile phone, water bottle, reader bag, goggles, other shoe and random child …
Drop off at school, which, this morning I had timed so I could say to Monkey Boy “Oh, dear, we’re a bit late. How about you run in? Give us a kiss,” rather than have to remove Chippie from car seat, carry him through the yard, dodging stray footballs, boisterous grade sixers and that obnoxious woman from the parents committee, and having to locate Godzila who could be in the classroom, on the play ground or wandering aimlessly …. somewhere.
Nope, Godzilla out of car and into school grounds before I could locate the reader bag under the car seat, and Monkey Boy, being helpful, has unplugged Chippie. Consider replugging him, and racing in to find Godzilla, but figured this would be the day that someone would comment.
As we were just on time for school, and already my day had been thwarted by a seven year old, someone commenting would only have ended in tears. And possibly a stabbing.
Make it to pool get changed, make sure goggles are on ‘just right’. Sit alongside several others, plaster some interested looks on our faces and sit back to watch a bunch of pre-schoolers thrash about like epileptic octopi (octpuses??) whilst enthusiatically stating things like “Well done, Hamish” and “Fantastic swimming, Isobella!”
Until … until … the pool area got a little noisier. No, not the local school coming in for lessons but, but …
… the local Metropolitan Fire Brigade. And it looked like they were going to be doing some swimming. Which meant, quite possibly, showing some body.
Enthusiastic smiles replaced with smiles of delight.
Enthusiastic comments applied inappropriately. “Well done, Millington,” as Millington was dragged up by the “aquatic education instructor”, coughing and spluttering. Not that Mum knew. We were all craning our necks to see what was possibly to be seen.
First off – they did rescue training. So they all kept their kit on, shoes and all, and into the pool.
Then, when the kit did come off, it was all board shorts and mostly flabby bellies. I’m hoping these guys were the trainees, coz I don’t want the fireman who drags me out of a burning building to run out of puff before he reaches the exit!
Still, there was the odd good bod. Um, strictly from someone from a fitness background admiring a physique for professional purposes only, of course.
And it did break the monotony.
“Good job, Godzilla!”