I am a wild, wet, waterdragon
Having selfishly seized control of the waterway, I growled and stomped and only the bravest of knights dared swim across my territory! With my terrible teeth and crooked claws I drove them from my place, ceaselessly plowing up and down to protect my domain!
Or, from a different point of view, I went swimming and was beset by many children. Friday, it seems, is when the local parents use the swimming pool as a very, very cheap babysitter. 40p! For 2 1/2 hours! And they get clean as well! It's a miracle best mixed with good food and cheap vodka.
Having only been to the pool on Wednesday - adults only - I was unprepared for the screaming, the running, the complete abscence of responsible adults. The poor life guard is probably about 16, and I imagine gets paid whether they go home bruised or not, so doesn't make much of an attempt to quell the particular type of riot that is known as "Children playing happily". And, to be fair, although there was yelling and name calling, no one smacked their heads on the bottom of the pool, no one got in trouble in the water, and no one seemed to be left out.
Having changed in an empty changing room, the scene pool side was a bit of a shock. "Is it possible to swim lengths tonight?" I asked as I paid, and, with the friendliness due to idiots and foreigners who come swimming without knowing how to say "lengths", the lifeguard said yes, and offered to put up a lane for me.
Fortunately, there were four other foolhardy length-swimmers waiting, otherwise the shear sizzling heat of my embarrassment at having troubled someone to do something for me, combined with the red-hot self-consciousness I'd feel monopolising 1/3 of the whole pool would have heated the water to bath temperature.
By the time the others had given up trying to hear themselves think (they were foolish, head-above-water swimmers! Breathing is for the weak!) and left, I was merrily plowing up and down without a care in the world. La la la ... la! La!
I wasn't paying much attention, I don't know which one of the four boys was at the front when I first noticed them, but they were standing suspiciously still on the edge of the pool. I made my turn, and swam up. It's a very, very short pool - 16.5m - so I was back fairly quickly, and I noticed that they'd got a bit closer to the edge. Something was up.
It was at this point that I turned into a dragon. The brave knights all stood breathlessly still as I turned, as though I might eat them if they moved, and watched me swim back up. On my next turn, I glared at them a little, to say "I saw you there! You can't fool me, I'm a wild, wet, water dragon!" which seemed to make it enough of a challenge that when I came looping back a couple of turns later, the first one had dived in and swum across to the safe part of the pool. The next turn, two more had gone and the last one was hovering on the edge while his fellows cat-called and pretended they'd been in the pool for hours. Because, as everyone knows, dragons are irrational creatures who hate having anyone on their territory for even a second, and dragons in floral bathing suits are the worst kind.
I couldn't resist encouraging them. I ploughed up and down solidly, swapping between crawl and breaststroke, stopping occasionally to give them a balefully, grumpy glare - or shortsightedly peer at the clock, those two always look the same to me - and it took them at least half an hour to get bored of diving back and forth across my lane, and another 15 minutes to work out that if they swam up and down in the lane - or at least, were swimming when I happened to see them - then I wouldn't tell them to get back on their side of the line.
Eventually, however, my 2km were up, and I had to get out. I felt my dragon-teeth retracting, and my tail curl up along my spine. And I had to go try out a new conditioner, and smile at the small children monopolising the changing rooms, and yell at the teenage girls who brought their boyfriend in. But I think I'll go back next week, and be a ferocious water dragon again... After all, you can't be a hero without a villain.
Or, from a different point of view, I went swimming and was beset by many children. Friday, it seems, is when the local parents use the swimming pool as a very, very cheap babysitter. 40p! For 2 1/2 hours! And they get clean as well! It's a miracle best mixed with good food and cheap vodka.
Having only been to the pool on Wednesday - adults only - I was unprepared for the screaming, the running, the complete abscence of responsible adults. The poor life guard is probably about 16, and I imagine gets paid whether they go home bruised or not, so doesn't make much of an attempt to quell the particular type of riot that is known as "Children playing happily". And, to be fair, although there was yelling and name calling, no one smacked their heads on the bottom of the pool, no one got in trouble in the water, and no one seemed to be left out.
Having changed in an empty changing room, the scene pool side was a bit of a shock. "Is it possible to swim lengths tonight?" I asked as I paid, and, with the friendliness due to idiots and foreigners who come swimming without knowing how to say "lengths", the lifeguard said yes, and offered to put up a lane for me.
Fortunately, there were four other foolhardy length-swimmers waiting, otherwise the shear sizzling heat of my embarrassment at having troubled someone to do something for me, combined with the red-hot self-consciousness I'd feel monopolising 1/3 of the whole pool would have heated the water to bath temperature.
By the time the others had given up trying to hear themselves think (they were foolish, head-above-water swimmers! Breathing is for the weak!) and left, I was merrily plowing up and down without a care in the world. La la la ... la! La!
I wasn't paying much attention, I don't know which one of the four boys was at the front when I first noticed them, but they were standing suspiciously still on the edge of the pool. I made my turn, and swam up. It's a very, very short pool - 16.5m - so I was back fairly quickly, and I noticed that they'd got a bit closer to the edge. Something was up.
It was at this point that I turned into a dragon. The brave knights all stood breathlessly still as I turned, as though I might eat them if they moved, and watched me swim back up. On my next turn, I glared at them a little, to say "I saw you there! You can't fool me, I'm a wild, wet, water dragon!" which seemed to make it enough of a challenge that when I came looping back a couple of turns later, the first one had dived in and swum across to the safe part of the pool. The next turn, two more had gone and the last one was hovering on the edge while his fellows cat-called and pretended they'd been in the pool for hours. Because, as everyone knows, dragons are irrational creatures who hate having anyone on their territory for even a second, and dragons in floral bathing suits are the worst kind.
I couldn't resist encouraging them. I ploughed up and down solidly, swapping between crawl and breaststroke, stopping occasionally to give them a balefully, grumpy glare - or shortsightedly peer at the clock, those two always look the same to me - and it took them at least half an hour to get bored of diving back and forth across my lane, and another 15 minutes to work out that if they swam up and down in the lane - or at least, were swimming when I happened to see them - then I wouldn't tell them to get back on their side of the line.
Eventually, however, my 2km were up, and I had to get out. I felt my dragon-teeth retracting, and my tail curl up along my spine. And I had to go try out a new conditioner, and smile at the small children monopolising the changing rooms, and yell at the teenage girls who brought their boyfriend in. But I think I'll go back next week, and be a ferocious water dragon again... After all, you can't be a hero without a villain.