It's Swim-ple

A bright beautiful sunny day in Bangkok, Thailand.
The momentous date: some time in July 1995.
The venue: pool and poolside of a neighbourhood swimming school.

Rows of excited parents chattering in Thai wait for their 3 and 4 year olds to embark on their first swimming lesson. From the changing room, the pitter patter of tiny feet is heard as 15-20 little angels in oh-so-cute swimsuits dash out and run circles around the pool to warm-up before they enter the water. Cameras and handycams are activated by said proud parents.

But what is this blocking their view as it goes thundering past, beating a thunderous tattoo on the concrete? Is it T-Rex? Is it the Concorde? (It is jumbo though.) Oh, is it the swim instructor? No...it is the oldest kid ever to join this class.

Meet yours truly on that date: 5 foot 6, about 50 kilos (that sounds like music now), 16 years old, in a swimsuit for the first time and terribly self-conscious. A good time to seek the sanctuary of a hiding-place. This is not when you do jumping jacks by the pool in the company of Lilliputians.

As I slide into the pool to find that watery hide-out, fervently praying for invisibility or at least chameleonic powers, my last refuge is denied to me. The water in the pool is a mere 4 foot 8. leaving a LOT of me sticking out. This is going to take forever (forever equals 3 months).

Needless to say, I am a bad swimmer. I re-entered a pool yesterday after almost 9 years. And all my old weaknesses re-emerged. I think I shall hold on to the sides and blow bubbles under water.