Tag Archives: pool

Swim Class

7 Jul

Picture the scene; a group of 9-10 year olds, all shivering, teeth chattering as the teacher tries to encourage them to swim into the depths of the murky water and retrieve the rubber block from the crusty veruca laden pool floor. The children are pale, and try mercifully to dodge any dead insects that may happen to float past their open mouths as they come hastily to the surface for an intake of oxygen. We’ve all been there, and whether it be the horrible water we were made to swim in, the weird green water we had to stand in before entering the pool, or trying to sneak a peek through the cracks in the changing rooms to catch the opposite sex stark bollock naked, we’ve all got different memories about swim class at school.

I hated swimming – there was no pleasure to be taken from getting into freezing cold water whilst receiving orders from a miserable teacher, who wanted to be inside as much as I did. It was on about my third of fourth swim class of the year that this story happened, and it is one that I look back on with mixed emotions. On this particular day, it was raining and windy, yet we were made to go swimming anyway. The water actually felt warm for once; probably because it was so cold in the old, wooden shack that passed for a changing room. I remember feeling as if I could crimp off a poo before I entered the water, but not wanting to make my excuses to go to the toilet, I kept quiet. ‘It isn’t that strong an urge’ I thought to myself, and so I just clenched as tightly as I could as I tried to do a length of the pool in unison with half of my class mates. This is more difficult when you’re all doing backstoke, and arms and heads are colliding with one another, as well as the sides of the pool. When I finally reached the other end, the ‘slight urge’ to poo, had now become a desperate one.

I still don’t know why I didn’t ask to go to the toilet – probably the fact that everyone would know I was off to lay a brown bog trout, so I stood in the waist high water and crossed my legs, inhaling as much as I could, hoping to suck my ever-nearing poo back up into my anus. I watched as other members of the class were made to dive under the water and fetch a 10p piece, and then I felt it. Reaching around to the back of my shorts, I gently ‘cupped’ the fabric and felt the unmistakable heaviness of a fresh log. It had slipped out without warning, and I had a predicament literally on my hands. I couldn’t waddle out of the pool, with my newly acquired tail protuding proudly from the back of my shorts, so I suppose I did what any 9 year old kid would do – I pulled my shorts to the side and dangled my leg about, until my newborn dropped free. This was harder than I first thought it would be, as my swim shorts had that tight netting-like layer. I thank God that I wasn’t wearing speedos.

My plan was going well. I had released my poo, and the next step was to give it a swift kick to the side and then carry on swimming as normal, except my plan didn’t get this far. To my horror, it floated slowly, agonisingly, to the surface, spinning as it rose in the water. I turned my back on it, hoping to hide it from view. With the realisation that I was ever closer to being caught for dumping in the pool ( it was nearly my turn to dive for the 10p), I turned back to face it, and it one swift motion, scooped it out of the water and discarded it on the side of the pool, where it sat like a giant dehydrated slug until the end of the lesson. I still don’t know how I didn’t get caught, but now I make sure that I always use the toilet prior to getting in a swimming pool.

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