Sunday, August 10, 2008

Fishnet tales

I am a Piscean.

I don't like seafood. Because I am a Piscean.

I can't swim. Because I am a Piscean. I know, this one does not even make sense. My convoluted explanation (excuse) is that I have an affinity to the fish and the litty bitty tiny creatures which go in your mouth with the clorinated and dirty (lets not even go there) water are related to me, hence....this is where I sort of begin to lose the thread...

My Dad would be flabbergasted that I have seriously un-learnt the swimming that I was capable of as a child.

My colleagues have given up on teaching me, because instead of seeing me stressed in office every so often, they have started seeing me stressed everyday from 3.00pm onwards because it is just five hours to a dip in the pool, and I am counting each and every measly minute with dread. They gave up pushing me, when a few of them saw me calmly standng in the pool stuck to the wall, and then disappear from view for a few seconds before coming up spluttering water and then disappearing again... "What the hell happened??" "Uh, I slip as soon as I let go of the wall." The colleagues escorting me, now look as stressed as I do.

It is as clear as daylight, that as the dusk falls, all the 'grown-up' novices head to the toddler end of the pool. And when each and every one of them gapes at you with their mouths open, while you cling to a friend shouting for your life- "PROMISE YOU WON'T LET ME GO, PROMISE YOU WON'T LET ME GO"..well that just takes the cake. The friend, politely (and increasingly regretfully) says "I won't" while all the time trying really hard to not dunk your head into the water for (ahem), as long as it takes to..well, lets just say, I set a new target in learner's block, each and every day.

And yes, it does take a special kind of talent to stand in mortal fear of life, in two feet deep water while more than three feet of you is still sticking out of it. But as I said at the start of this tale -

I am a Piscean.