The Armband Thief

Yes I know, not one of my better blog post titles. And frankly if you're looking for anything meaningful then turn over now. 

There is a strange phenomenon in our house. It concerns armbands. The type one uses to swim when little, rather than any other kind (funereal perhaps?). We buy at least 2 sets per month and we lose at least 2 sets per month. There is some great swimming pool in the sky that reaches down and sucks them up. I never know where I've left them, I always get blamed for losing them and I never fail to be amazed that two pieces of synthetic fibre (plastic? rubber?) are taking up so much of my time. 

Tilly is obsessed with swimming. Completely. She constantly talks about 'goin' swimming'", she wants to swim from when she wakes to when she passes out at night. Extraordinary given I loathed it as a child. With a passion. My mother would write endless sick notes to my teacher. Every week. It seemed I had one very long period as a school girl but my teacher's were too 'British' to ask any difficult questions.  As a result I couldn't actually swim decently until I was 30. When I got myself lessons and now I do, in fact, love it.  That is to say I love actually swimming.  Tearing up and down the pool doing lap after lap until I can't catch my breath and all thoughts are gone from my head.  

Standing around in the kids' pool while Tilly splashes about is fun for a bit, her little face is reward enough for having to stand in a pool that only comes up to my thighs. But after about 1/2 hour the novelty wears off and aside from anything else I'm getting cold.  Plus Sunday is definitely "Dad's Day". The public pool is overrun with Dad's doing their Sunday thing with their kids. I can't help but feel that I need more body hair and a beer belly to pull it off. But far be it for me to pull Tilly out of the pool kicking and screaming because I'd rather be having a cup of tea in the cafe.  So we emerge with our prune like fingers and toes after about an hour, both rather tired, cold and wishing we were home. 

Sorry I forgot the actual point of this post.  I had to buy yet another pair of armbands. I have little hope for these. They will no doubt will be sucked out of the bag I put them in, carefully and with real intention (I have learnt that that is the way to help me remember where I leave things). Our friendly household ghost who was perhaps a swimmer in a former life, will find them and move them. Then I'll be doing the same thing next week. Buying another sodding pair.  Maybe I ought to get Tilly some lessons then she can do away with the damn things for ever. 

Perhaps she'll even learn to swim before she's 30. Wow. I'd be so proud.