By: Blonde Two
By Blonde Two
I had one very ‘grumpy teacher’ day last week. So grumpy in fact, that I ended the day in a classroom ‘stare-off’. If you have ever taught, you will recognise this; you stare at the kids, disliking them intensely (not individually you understand, but as a mass), and they stare back at you, disliking you even more.
We have made up since; but I knew then that as I was unable to get up to Dartmoor, the only way to get rid of my grump was to swim front crawl until it had gone away.
This I did, but the depth of my bad mood must be measured in sixty lengths of the pool that it took me to do this. I usually swim thirty, so after sixty I was: a) knackered, b) pleased with myself and c) still four lengths short of a mile.
The problem with having swum sixty lengths once, is that I now feel that I have to do it every time I go. There is an issue with this; it is not time, or energy (although I suspect this would eventually run out), it is my bladder. My bladder, it would seem, only has a forty length pool allowance. Any longer than that and I am swimming with crossed legs and wondering if the stories of purple dye are actually true.