Mrs S and I tried to go swimming on Thursday night. We have been doing this for a couple of months now, and have the routine down to a finely honed art. I always get there early (no surprise there) pay for my session, and while I wait for Mrs S, I get into a right mucking fuddle trying to get the sticky band stuck somewhere appropriate, whilst gazing lockingly at the chocolate vending machine. This Thursday looked like going the same as all the others until Mrs S tipped up and tried to pay.
'Sorry, we can't let you in because there are too many people in the pool'.
Looking at the pool's human contents, Mrs S and I were surprised to see how quiet it was. There were no hoards of screaming children or teenage vamps trying to chat up the spotty lifeguards,
'But you're really quiet', I said. 'How come we can't go in?' (I say 'we', but I had a band and could go in, but there was no way I was leaving my buddy in the foyer).
Further interrogation revealed that they were a couple of lifeguards down (at home squeezing their spots and eating Pot Noodles I expect), so the swimmers had to be reduced proportionately. So Mrs S and I did the only thing available, and headed to the cafe for a coffee. You see, when you've been given a pass by a husband, there's no way you're going to waste it, and as the only thing which waited for me at home was a pile of washing up and two dogs needing a walk, I decided it was best to stay out for my allotted time and let others do my dirty work.
We gave our jaws a good work out though and an hour after arriving, the lady in charge of the swimming bands came over and asked us if we were ready for a swim. Oh, I don't think so, not now, not when I've had a cup of tea and can almost hear the sofa calling me. So we called it a day and headed home.
I was a bit hacked off, as the children had bought me a snazzy new swim bag for Mother's Day. I had been using one of son number two's bags up till then, and I think he was a bit fed up of finding face cream and ladies' drawers in it when he needed it. I didn't even get the chance to the waterproof section where you put your swimsuit when you're done.
So yesterday, Miss R came over to see me to sort out some Secret Squirrel Stuff. This is very exciting, but unfortunately, as it involves someone close to me (ok, it's the husband) I can't tell you any more. Now Miss R is not particularly good at keeping a secret (nor am I as it happens) so we are treading on eggshells in case an inadvertent word slips out.
I give it a week before he finds out if we're lucky...