The Aquatic Centre

MY 11year old has a pupil free day, (what a misnomer, isn’t it the teacher who gets the pupil free day?) and after much pleading, multiple phone calls and texting to organize other ‘pupil free’ mates, we head off to the aquatic centre.

I swim a few desultory, solitary laps and settle back with my Mercury and a couple of fresh musksticks, ready to chew over the day’s offerings, when I am disturbed by the sight of a Hobart commentator, towel draped nonchalantly over his be-suited shoulder, walking, poutingly, menacingly towards the pool.

Quickly I avert my eyes, not wanting to see the great ascerbic one drop his dacks, unveil his sweet pale, plump nakedness and make a splash of the watery kind.

It really is too shocking for words.

Eyes glued to the paper I finish reading, gather up goggles and flippers and flee to the safety of the showers where I am greeted with more nakedness, of the female kind, soft round white wobbly bottoms and bouncing full bosoms.

Into the shower I go where across the slippery wet corridor I see two little girls standing under the warm water. They stare unashamedly at me as I pull down my wet, clinging cossie and step free at last, as naked as they.

Once my nudity is established, they lose interest and I, in turn, observe them.

Skinny, tiny, they had to be sisters, standing side by side as the warm water plasters dark fine hair to their skulls. They are quiet, frankly curious and totally absorbed in the feel of the water on their skin, the taste of it in their mouths.

Suddenly, a squeal rips through the showers closely followed by a stout, naked little lad charging up and down between the cubicles. One wonders if all the female nudity is sending his sensory receptors into overdrive.

The smaller of the sisters slowly moves forward from behind the curtain of water to observe more closely the squealing boy stampeding down the corridor.

“Damien, come here, stop that screaming.”

Alas, Damien’s been muffled as his mum throws a towel over him and vigorously rubs his hair.

A young mother retrieves her two daughters, towels them dry and dresses them.

I slowly dry off and dress and leave this place of female nakedness, out through the noisy, vast amphitheatre of bleach smells and splashing water and into the cool clear air of Hobart.

What a wonderful place the aquatic centre is.