This is not the pool. If it were this nice I might not be moaning as much. Though I still think it's probably not that clean.
I am being punished for eating the kids chocolate buttons. Orla chose swimming again today. All went well despite even more grotesque fungal images flying round my mind this time round. But hurried through the first changing room experience as quickly as possible, and got in to the nice(r) warmer (pee temperature?) pool and had barely set a foot in the grime infested waters before we were told we had to leave in 10 minutes. You'd think they could have told us that at the front desk when we paid our £5.00, but admittedly they were a bit distracted by the lady who quite rightly was having a good shout at them for their incompetence*.
Our 10 minutes pass in a blur, and then we're kicked out into the teenage pool. We managed somewhere between 5 - 10 minutes before the children's chittering gets in the way of their fun and even they want to leave. I wouldn't be me if I wasn't just a little bit pleased to be getting out. So back in the horrid changing rooms, I open the locker and give Orla the £1 to hold (just in case I need to divert her attention away from having a massive tantrum because she's been short-changed on swimming fun). But it appears that a short stint in freezing cold water is enough to entice her back into her clothes. So I am relaxed and happy as we get changed. Last time I think I might have forgotten to mention that she had a massive tantrum in the little cubicle, which was nice, and simply added to my pleasurable experience.
This time round aside from chanting "cold, cold, cold", she was a very good girl and mostly kept quiet. She had been playing with the £1 coin running it up and down the filthy grout; digging it into the dirty, fungal, grooves in the wooden slatted bench; dropping it on to the musty, just plain filthy floor; oh, and then popping it in and out of her mouth and licking it.
I just deserve this, don't I?
Our 10 minutes pass in a blur, and then we're kicked out into the teenage pool. We managed somewhere between 5 - 10 minutes before the children's chittering gets in the way of their fun and even they want to leave. I wouldn't be me if I wasn't just a little bit pleased to be getting out. So back in the horrid changing rooms, I open the locker and give Orla the £1 to hold (just in case I need to divert her attention away from having a massive tantrum because she's been short-changed on swimming fun). But it appears that a short stint in freezing cold water is enough to entice her back into her clothes. So I am relaxed and happy as we get changed. Last time I think I might have forgotten to mention that she had a massive tantrum in the little cubicle, which was nice, and simply added to my pleasurable experience.
This time round aside from chanting "cold, cold, cold", she was a very good girl and mostly kept quiet. She had been playing with the £1 coin running it up and down the filthy grout; digging it into the dirty, fungal, grooves in the wooden slatted bench; dropping it on to the musty, just plain filthy floor; oh, and then popping it in and out of her mouth and licking it.
I just deserve this, don't I?
Oh dear, I can sympathise, I'm not a huge fan of public swimming baths either. If it was up to me, I would only swim in the clear blue waters of the Caribbean (or similarly warm ocean- I'm not THAT fussy) when the ambient temperature is no lower than 30 degrees. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, little one looks like she is having a great time on that photo!