It is many years since I entered a public baths, and the thing that struck me was the noise; there must have been a thousand kids, all hollering and whooping and leaping into the water. Not to my taste as you may imagine.
Anyway, I was descending gingerly down the steps when I felt strong hands grab my legs. I was plucked off the metal rungs and flung into the water. I flailed my arms and tried to save myself but my head went under, and there was an awful booming noise as water filled my ears and mouth. When I finally gained the surface, the Swedish tart was treading water and laughing.
I regained my composure and commenced a dignified breast-stroke to the side, where I clung onto the the pipe, getting my breath back. From this position of comparitive safety, I watched the blonde giant carve her way up and down the bath with a powerful crawl. Show off!
Later, over a coffee in the baths' Bistro, she apoligised for her 'high spirits'.
But when I pressed her on the matter of a 'blog' address, she simply made with a mysterious smile and said, "I am giving you the cluedo" (her English gets no better, but what can you expect spending so much time with my wife). Anyway - are you ready for this R.J. (oh and by the way, thanks for supporting me in my hour of need, us chaps have to stick together - there aren't many of us left)
"The fractured tongue helps me along" That is what she said, as she attempted to wriggle her bare toe up my trouser leg.
Frankly I don't know what to make of it - the clue, I mean. I know only too well what to make of the other.
We're going to the pictures tonight.
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