"Swimming, swimming, in the swimming pool!"

In an attempt to beat the heat last night, Fingers and I tried to take a swim at the local pool. Orange lives around the corner from an Olympic sized in-ground that has in the past looked crystal blue and lovely. For some reason it had been drained yesterday... Why? I'm not sure. So we retraced our tracks and took our butters to the next closest location.

The check-in girl gave us the family rate ($7.00). Because we're a family, obviously. After changing into our suits, hosing down in the cold, gross shower room, we made our way onto the deck to join the pool party. I wore my flip-flops for as long as possible on deck because of my fear of hair off the head and in general bare feet in public spaces.

Ahh, relief! It's amazing what a little chlorine can do for the soul. Fingers dove right in while I inched my way into the turquoise abyss, savouring the dip of each toe into the cool water.

As expected, no sooner had I submerged myself when the thunder clapped and the teenage twat sitting in the lifeguard stand blew his whistle for us to evacuate the area. Huddled under the enclosure with the rest of the pool-goers waiting out the storm, Fingers looked over to ask if I wanted to stay the 30 minute minimum wait when the little girl standing next to me began to howl to get back in the pool. "No. I don't" I replied. I'm pretty sure only dogs and bees could hear her screams, she was that high pitched in her wailing. We couldn't even be bothered to dress ourselves, just got back into our car soaking wet to take our "family rate" @sses back to the hot house.

Zut alors!