HAVING retired from his high-level job in London John moved to Malvern and got a job as a lifeguard at the local swimming pool. 

Every morning he watched the activities of the early rising older generation. 

There were some quite serious swimmers far lanes.

In the closest lane some would walk up and down, exercising arms and legs and brains, while they put the world to rights.

John had a good idea and wheels were set in motion.

A few days later Jeremy and Boris were swimming frantically in the far lane.  Boris usually lied about the number of lengths he had done (at least 350 a week) and Jeremy was always complaining about the fact the pool needed money spending on it. 

Then there was Dianne, who often lost count as to the number of lengths she had done, drifting along in the middle lane. 

Joseph and Michael were there, on the right-hand side of course. 

Joseph was recognisable as the only male wearing a full length 1930’s striped, swimming suit whilst both Jeremy and Boris wore skimpy speedos, in red and blue respectively.

Those two ‘respectable’ older men were now shouting and calling each other names.

John blew his whistle and called them out of the pool.  He talked to them sternly about pool etiquette, but Jeremy said he was going leaving anyway whilst Boris accepted his relegation to the slow lane.

A little while later, as if pre-arranged, Leo stepped into the water and greeted John with his pleasant Irish accent. 

John watched as the two men walked up and down, water up to their necks, talking animatedly as they pushed against the liquid resistance.

Later he smiled as he watched them walk past his viewing platform as they left the pool.

“So, we are agreed,” said Boris.

“In total agreement,” said Leo. “How about another swim next week?”

“No,” said Boris. “I gather Vladamir and that Ukrainian guy, are due in.  It’s funny how a chat in the pool can help you put the world to rights.”

 

Francis Charters

Malvern