“I didn’t ask for your life story.” #1

In this series I intend to share with you some anecdotes from my short & uneventful past. It just means I get to recall some funny stories and possibly bring a smile to your face as you read them.

Swimming Lessons

I hated swimming lessons. This abhorrence existed for a number of reasons. I always ended up getting water up my nose, andthere’s nothing worse than getting water up your nose.

I went to these lessons with my best friend from primary school, Daniel. He was inconveniently a few months younger than me which meant that when we got in the pool, I got dragged off to be taught in the ‘older’ group – all on my own.

My group consisted of two extremely boisterous kids from Pakistan. They loved the water, and they loved any challenge involving water – jumping, bombing, splashing and various other forms of suicide. Why are you having swimming lessons if you can already do back-flips into the water?

Another reason I hated swimming lessons was due to my sickeningly enthusiastic teacher, Caroline. She must have been in her early twenties. The more excited she got; the higher pitch her voice would go. When I finally managed my first back stroke, I could have sworn I heard dogs barking to the sound of her supersonic yelps.

I also hated the ridiculous arm-band system that they ran. For my first lesson I brought along my retro-classic blow up arm-bands, they looked like and served the function of things that make you float. This center for aquatic education seemed to think that rectangular pieces of fluorescent orange polystyrene were appropriate tools to aid swimmers.

On week one they allow the students to wear four arm-bands on each arm. Don’t get me wrong, they allowed you to float, however they constricted any upper arm movement.

Their simple and ineffective system was, to each week remove one arm band until eventually you could swim without them. Well, that was the theory however when I eventually had to swim without these glorified Frisbees I was left with highly irregular arm movements.

Then there was the time when Caroline asked us if we wanted a ‘dunk-in’. I heard the word ‘dunkin’ and immediately my face lit up. Finally, a treat for having to undergo these loathsome lessons.

Of course, the fish children both knew exactly what she meant by a dunk-in and were equally enthusiastic. She asked us to get out of the pool, by now I was drooling with excitement. “Where are they?” I asked politely.

“Stand in a line!” she screamed as she shuffled us to the edge of the pool. “After three, you jump in!”

What? I suddenly felt my arms being tugged abruptly and before I knew it all I could hear was bubbles. My so called arm-bands were long gone, I could faintly hear the noise of Caroline’s gleeful shrieks, and of course; there was water up my nose.

6 thoughts on ““I didn’t ask for your life story.” #1

  1. Hahahahaha this post made me chuckle a lot.
    Although it did bring back the terrible, traumatic memories of my own swimming lessons. I don’t think I went to many…my teacher, like yours ,was cheerful, jolly, high pitched and I didn’t like her…so I didn’t participate. I was such a jolly kid :)
    And armbands, pfft, they made my arms float certainly…the rest of me still flailed around.

  2. UGH I have just had a flashback to another type of float….I don’t know if you had them, they used to tie around your waist and they’d always be soaking wet, cold and dirty.

  3. :-S Sounds awful!

    Don’t think I ever had to undergo any such thing. The classic float was the only one I was familiar with.

    Tie around waist though. That’s surely constrictive.

    Evil.

  4. oh WOW.

    THOSE.

    I used to think they were like training surf boards, and my constant aim every time I went swimming was to try and stand and balance on the least chewed one I could find.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s