I went to Harpenden swimming pool for the first time today. It's a great facility for a small town, though as a member of a gym it's a while since I've been to a family style pool and the place sent me on a time quake to the 70s, where if I had to choose one image to illustrate a swimming pool, it would be a used plaster floating in the little pond of water you had to step in to prevent the spread of verrucas (though cos it was cold and nasty most of us jumped over it anyway).
Harpenden pool had neither soiled plasters or a verruca pond, but it had lockers with keys which had a plastic wristband and tiny cubicles to change in and a training pool. The floor in the cubicle was wet and so my socks got damp both as I was taking them off and putting them on. Which again has not happened to me (probably) since the 70s.
Cheddar outdoor pool (now sadly demolished and replaced by housing - there is a posho indoor pool by the school now, but that's no fun is it?) was fresh in my mind and reconstructed today. Swimming widths, collecting black weights from the bottom, ogling bosoms, getting told off for running or bombing, though sadly never for petting. On one memorable occasion a woman was walking around in the shallow end without realising that a nipple had popped out of her costume. Oh, what heady days. I was back at the Fairlands Middle School smimming gala, I was leaping over the verruca pool, I was pushing myself up against the water filter and enjoying the odd sensations. All this from damp socks.
The Harpenden pool was cold, though not as cold as that Cheddar pool (how long it used to take to steel myself to jump in - it seemed like the most terrifying thing possible, to be momentarily cold), but I soon warmed up. I haven't been swimming for a few weeks and was pooped after about 15 minutes and went to get out. I had left my towel draped over the railing by the pool, as had everyone else and was slightly annoyed to see an old woman leaning on the rail and my towel with her bare old woman arms. She and some other oldies were waiting to come into the pool, which unbeknownst to us became over-50s only for an hour at 11am. I was almost as flabbergasted that she'd nonchalantly lean on someone else's towel as I was when I realised that in five and a bit year's time I won't get kicked out of the pool at 11am.
I gave the lady a curt, "excuse me" and she let me get my towel, but with no apology. You can't lean on someone else's towel. There was plenty of rail to lean on which was untowelled. At least Andre Vincent
had hidden his towel crime (though to be fair had put that towel, I imagine, in more places than I'd like to imagine - but I am imagining not imagining them and have thus imagined them - ew). I used the other side of the towel to dry myself. There are very few people I would be happy to see leaning on my towel, young or old. This lady was not one of the few. She didn't even give me a flash of nipple to make up for it. Swimming pools have changed since my day.
Chris Evans (not that one) has just taken delivery of a whole new batch of series 1 Fist of Fun DVDs, so if you haven't bought it yet then
you know what to do. The minor issues with these discs playing on Playstations is now sorted out. Series 2 will be out later in the year. Thanks to all those of you who have made this financial gamble pay off. We're not going to lose any money on this and hopefully it will give Go Faster Stripe a boost that will mean it can film even more shows from obscure and brilliant comedians.
