I suppose that I like everything to be just so...well as much as possible anyway. This 'born with' trait is a curse for sure. For instance when I come across a post here that is mine ...maybe from years ago, and spot a spelling mistake I correct it.(I am sure there are many that I do not spot) Any way you ask, 'what does this have to do with swimming'. It's the time you see, or not enough of it and the logistics of carrying the necessary paraphernalia.
In the years that this swimming activity was endured I did not have the facility of going home at noon hour…too far. So that a towel and trunks had to be somehow stuffed into an already crammed satchel. The whole bulging assemblage to be carried to the bus and across town all the time thinking about the miseries to come. The period for swimming lessons came around. What lessons; the teacher sat at the side of the pool and seemed to ignore the whole proceedings except to make sure you went in. We had to walk to the facility, which was Grove Lane I think. Similar to Sakura’s post. What remained of the lesson was spent in a rapid undress…put on trunks…take excuse for a shower brrr. Cold. Then one had to get the whole thing over with and jump in. This meant the shallow end for me. I learned the flail stroke, later to be refined into the dog paddle and much later in life to be re,refined into a rudimental breast stroke. I could stay above water at least until rescue or cramp set in. I did not brave the deep end though or if I did I stayed close to the side.
It always was a nervous situation but the worst part for me was after. I had to try and get dry and put socks onto wet feet and try to get a partly wet body into a vest…all the time realising that I had to get back to school for the next lesson…and it usually was English with Ozzie. So there I would be, walking and running along the sidewalk back to school. Feeling damp and miserable with clothing feeling like it was not on properly and my school tie shot to blazes and my hair…well a hedge backwards is about right. Having to face Ozzie whilst being ever so slightly late. Not something to look forward to.
Sometimes it would be lunch hour after the ‘swimming lesson’ and then there would be more time to get properly attired afterwards except there was no joy to be had then either. Lunch was served at Boulton Road and I seem to remember it was further to walk and by the time we got there we were at the end of the line and not much was left.
After that we could look forward to carrying a wet towel and trunks on top of damp books for the rest of the day. Not a pleasant prospect. Hmmm… perhaps a rudimental version of the breast stroke was marginally worth the effort.
Personally, I think that learning to swim properly is a completely necessary asset in life and all schools should allow for this to be accomplished with proper attention and very skilled teachers. Some pupils, I suppose that I was one, need more attention than others…oh and longer dressing time…and your mom to put your tie right …and late swim pass for Ozzie.
