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The first mutterings of summer are heralded by lots of skinny
men in skimpy swimwear outside the men's pond. Someone has teefed my
favourite spot to park my bike. I will admit that part me growls 'Where were
you in January?'. But hey ho, we're all welcome here (apart from the racists and
the sexists)
I sit for ages in a trance watching lycra clad images of
yesterday's triathlon whizz round my adrenaline fuelled brain. A group of youts
arrive, shorts hanging half-mast round their backsides. This amuses me.
I finally get my act together and hurl myself off the
springboard. I swim a couple of lazy laps. I have nothing to prove and nothing
to train for today.
The buff youts turn up on the jetty. They can't wear their
swimming shorts halfway down their bums cos they'd have bare arses and that's bare shame and inadvisable considering the reputation this place has. They spend ages trying to get in the water 'cos it's 'bare
cold bruv'. You aint so hench are you now boys. Good kids. Bless 'em. I bet
their mothers love them.