After a Chillax Break, it was back to work today. It was nice to have had almost two weeks off without anything particular planned. Often, time off means going away, with all the associated stress and exertion, so just being at home made a nice change.
I made a point of getting up a reasonable time every morning. I can sleep for England and it's not unusual for me to be in bed at midday, which of course then means I go to bed late, with a resultant cycle of decline. Several times I went swimming, which was good, if tiring! I have fallen into so many bad habits, poor technique and laziness. For example, I realised my upper arms were really hurting from the exertion but my legs were just as normal. It struck me that I am relying on my arms far too much, so I made myself do several lengths with a float, making my legs do the work, which is so much more difficult than my usual style.
I say 'several lengths' like I was bombing up and down like Sharon Davies or someone, but it wasn't that impressive. I used to go swimming regularly after work, and I would feel intimidated as I slowly put in my lengths with the exercise freaks. But I no longer care. I looked around me and the rubbish swimmers well outnumbered the good ones. Two older ladies in matching costumes and loud hats, who arrived and seemingly as a ritual sought out their rubber rings. The middle aged like me wanting a spot of exercise. The parents supervising the small children.
Well, in some cases. I did find it depressing to note several Moslem family groups, where the boys, and on one occasion Dad, were swimming and Mum and the girls were up in the spectators' gallery, all covered up. I must admit that whenever I return to swimming after a break, I feel a bit self-conscious, because my body shape doesn't match up to the 'ideal' in magazines. But then I get in the water and I don't care. My entire body is covered from head to my toes. I have been using public swimming pools since about 1972 or 1973 and I have never once been unsettled by inappropriate looks. It does make me angry when people deny themselves (and their children) the opportunity to exercise, to experience healthy sensuality and - possibly - to learn how to survive just because of some ridiculous sex-obsessed notion of 'modesty'.
Another thing we noticed was an almost complete lack of children around. We agreed that maybe morning was too early for teenagers, and also that there are play-schemes at several schools, and of course, many people will be away. But going down Kings' Avenue not a child was spotted kicking a ball on the grass outside the flats. The only children we saw on the bus were with parents or carers. I went to Streatham twice and other than one group of aggressive teenagers on one day and an idiot playing 'music' on his phone, there were no unsupervised school age children.
I know why, it's the fear of the stabbings and the shootings, and the general intimidation that leads up to that And I can hardly accuse the parents of groundless worry. But I do think it's sad to think that they will be missing out on all those adventures I had.
Despite the fact that of all my friends I had the most overprotected childhood, I was allowed to go the Leisure Centre with a friend before I even finished Primary School, regularly went to the local shops - to hang out the library(!) and even by mid-teens went into Manchester unsupervised. I don't recall any unwanted approaches by strangers,and the nearest I got to being spoken to by the police was when I was riding my bike down a 'no cycling' footpath only to encounter the Chief Constable (James Anderton) walking towards me - but he just smiled sweetly. He always did, much to my shame. Even though I was never really allowed to hang out, or to go out aimlessly, or hang round other people's houses, or have people round ours, I still learned to negotiate the big wide world of Sale and Altrincham, then Manchester,and then London. And nothing bad ever happened to me.
I watched a programme recenttly aboutover-protective parents. I accept that they chose the most extreme in order to force the point, but what struck me with all these kids cooped up all day indoors was the total absence of any constructive activity. I would have thought that a parent who insists on a child staying in all day during the holidays would at least get them reading, or cooking, or doing handicrafts, or playing an instrument, or something, rather than just an endless diet of TV and Wii. As onelad's friend said - all the stuff he does he does on the Playstation, like football and rock-climbing, I do it for real down the sports centre.
