Thursday, January 10, 2013
Keeping my hair dry as I'm swimming
As I drove off the day before yesterday to Hataitai Beach, I was determined to not get my hair wet. I had an appointment in half an hour and I would just have time for a quick swim before heading straight off to town.
I slipped into the water, from the deck, with nary a splash, just sort of glided in. My hair was fine... check. The water was almost-flat. If I kept my head high and just did breast-stroke, I'd be okay.
I swam cross the bay. Everything was great. No probs.
Back again. Still fine, check. Half a dozen more laps. Really, this not-getting-my-hair-wet was a complete doddle. Even my ear-rings were dry.
There was a family hovering on the steps leading up to the deck and I sort of saw them out of the corner of my eye. A mother, a son about eight, and two under five daughters. They didn't worry me one iota. As long as they weren't in the water splashing me, I was content.
Mmmm, I swam lazily forward, after checking the time on my diamente (of course!) swimming watch. I did a couple of seal rolls (my signature exit move) and glided up toward the bottom step of the deck to haul myself out from the water. It had been a lovely swim. My hair was completely dry. Success!
With a kamikaze yell, the eight year old boy bunched his knees up tight, flew himself high into the air, and.... landed - sperlaasssssssssshhhhhh! - right beside me in the water.
My hair was totally drenched.
Still in the water, I glared up at the mother. I yelled at her about my-wet-hair-and-my-appointment-in-town-and-how-she-should-have-kept-better-control-of-her-son-and-who-knows-what-else-I-hollered-in-my-anger.
"Say you're sorry," she ordered her son. He had now got out of the water.
He hung his head. "I'm sorry, "
His mum mumbled to me, "Are you okay-? Can we do anything-?"
With a sigh, I hauled myself up out of the sea, wet tendrils plastered around my face. I looked haughtily across at the boy. "Slave, fetch me my towel," I said. And I pointed to it on the deck.
And do you know what? He went and got my towel.
Maybe I should have been trained as a dominatrix?
PS: Oh, no, I've lost the ability again of how to put photos into this blog. I can't remember the roundabout way I did it last time and the little photo icon at the top of the page just keeps saying something about uploading to phones and albums and webcams and such, nothing about going into the 'pictures' on my computer. Stay tuned for the next thrilling instalment of "Can she ever find out how to get at those darn Pictures". Same bat blog.