Sunday 24 June 2007

Swimming

They'll let you in, but getting out was no party. Ten minutes to cross the border on Friday evening, almost two hours to get back today. If someone could think of a way to streamline a few hundred yards of West 49, North American emissions could be slashed straight away.
Oddly, the queues through customs and immigration between England and France have been thusly streamlined.

The weather at the weekend has see-sawed between pounding rain and steaming sunshine, although perhaps the rain end has seen more action. That being said, everytime I have scurried out to get into the pool because I want to swim in the rain, it has stopped, then as soon as I'm out, it starts up again.

Swimming by moonlight was pretty good though, the herons with their pterodactyl flap passing overhead.
I love swimming, but rarely make the time to do it. I like to do a certain number of lengths and then get out, which is why I like the swimming pools at the complex. The recreational hanging around in the pool holds no interest.
And whenever I swim, I can hear the voice of my PE teacher at school, reminding us how to kick properly, to synchronise our arm and leg movements, to put our head under the water and breathe out, then come up and take in air, not to gasp, but to develop a natural rhythm to it.
I don't swim like that, but I like to have the ideal to aspire to. The voices of so many great women internalised.

I can't say I liked school, but I sure as hell gained the most incredible grounding from it.

1 comment:

Sleepy said...

How shitty.
I can't imagine anything worse than being stuck on the Septic side of the border!