Yesterday was a normal Tuesday, swimming at 9:30 which means scrabbling round trying to get everyone in the correct swimming attire, including myself. I normally take Ted in the pool, which is always colder than Inverness on a brisk day, whilst Nell has her lesson. That means I don't have to keep hold of Ted with all my strength as he becomes flubber slipping through my vice like grip, breaks free and heads for the pool fully clothed. Although this also means I have to endure a whole 40 minutes of being continually splashed in the face.
The other mums sit around the pool in there Stella Mccartney flatforms and Gucci Loafers covered by blue baggy condoms to protect them from Teds bothersome splashing. Probably discussing what they are doing for the summer and if they will take the private jet or get just Jeeves to piggy back them to the Hamptons instead. The leader of the pack, Top Bitch Queen, I like to call her, always humours me with a painful smize that looks like she has just caught a whiff of muck and the others follow suit. I show them all my teeth as I stroll past adjusting Nells goggles with one hand and holding Ted back by his swim nappy with the other.
Yesterday was like every other Tuesday swim, Nell bossing it at swimming (even with wonky goggles, that have left permanent indentation on her face) and Ted not wanting to exit the pool when the time came. Slippery and wet trying to wriggle free we made a B-line for the showers.
Showers mean the end is near and we have made it through another morning of swim lessons and a huge Costa cappuccino and a few minutes of well earned peace is waiting for me near the play area. We just had to wash, dry and get our tacky bodies into our jeans. (Who the F*&k wears jeans on swim day??)
All the kids are being hosed down in the cubicles by now, it felt like the whole gym was showering and of course Nell choosing the optimum moment to say;
'Look mummy, your Lala's not spiky any more.'