Showing posts with label thongs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thongs. Show all posts

Tuesday, 27 January 2009

Pool Rules

This inabilty to post photos on here is becoming very frustrating. I wanted to insert the vintage swimming pool poster, 'Would patrons kindly refrain from..........'. You know the one. White background, red headline and 9 cartoon pics of swimmers enjoying forbidden activities such as smoking (?!?), running, pushing and, ahem, petting. Its purpose was to demonstrate the inanity of some of those rules. The one I'd expected to see was, 'no swimming soon after eating' but alas, it wasn't there. I did however come across an up to date version featuring thongs, bling, games consoles and mobiles as banned items.

Still no mention of swimming on a full stomach. Perhaps there was some truth in the discussion tonight on QI , where Stephen Fry claimed there was no evidence to show that this was dangerous. It didn't stop my parents using it as an excuse for avoiding an afternoon at the local baths, not does it prevent me using it as a pretext for staying home. I have quite a few excuses come to think of it. If a recent waxing means I can't use the 'spiders' legs' get-out, I promise to take the chiddlers just as soon as they've tidied their rooms, confident in the knowledge that it will never happen. I like safe bets.

I wish there'd been a few sensible rules posted poolside in our Florida holiday let. 'Don't push mobile carrying friends into water' would have saved Pots' phone and, 'Don't fire party poppers in around the pool' would have helped us avoid declaring war, armed with litres of industrial strength bleach and scrubbing brush, on the white painted patio. Not what you need on New Years Day with a raging hangover, but Aggie did a great job! I think she'd been having withdrawal symptoms. Four days without Domestos! The fumes, which made my eyes stream, acted like hair of the dog for her and by lunchtime, she was ready to hit the malls.

I, on the other hand, was left home alone with my 'dying' husband. I say dying, because he was convinced that his heart would stop beating if he fell asleep. I spent the afternoon lying there, watching the rise and fall of his chest, trying to convince him (and myself) that it WAS just a hangover resulting from his share of a 2 litre bottle of Vodka, 4 cans of Red Bull and 2 bottles of red. The infamous energy drink didn't give him wings that day.

Maybe we should have observed the rule about 'No alcohol in the jacuzzi area'. Perchance then my party shoe wouldn't have ended up in the filter.