The wrong sort of water

Last Thursday afternoon my lovely husband (who is currently not working) and I made a snap decision to take the little ones swimming after school. For some reason we noticed that a local pool had a fun family session at a suitable time instead of the normal back to back swimming lesson slots.

We had a great time and even got the pool (complete with all the floats, balls and inflatables) all to ourselves for the most part. It felt very decadent to be doing what had up until then been very much a weekend activity, on a school night. Today we thought we'd try it again and so after checking the timetables to make sure it wasn't just a once off, we met the older one at the school gate with the good news and headed off.

Fifteen minutes in the car and some tricky negotiations in a crowded car park later we discovered the timetable had not been updated and we were left to explain away all the lanes of children practicing their frog legs to our two would-be swimmers.

Anyway, on the way back home we crossed over the river don and noticed the path along the waters edge had almost disappeared due the flood level, so we stopped and spent a bit of time laughing at the thought of trying to sit on one of the submerged benches and worrying about what has happened to the little ducklings and the swans majestic nest.

If you can't be in the water, being next to it is a good second best.