Swimathon

I wake about six thirty, Norman has rolled in the throw and turned into a sort of dachshund chrysalis, only his nose protruding from the end, I have slept reasonably well and am contemplating the day ahead, when Louis climbs into the bed in his pyjamas. He is much taken with Norman's night time attire, and he cuddles him for a few minutes before placing his order for breakfast. Unsurprisingly, it is for a full English again, although he manages a little cough and tells me that he is still too poorly to go to school. I feel his forehead and it is still too warm for my liking, so concur that he will have to have the day off school. We unroll Normy like a Turkish belly dancer wrapped in a carpet and then let him out into the small yard, which is the closest thing Sarah has to a garden, before making breakfast. It is served by seven thirty, and like all sixteen year old girls, Alice has to be gently summoned to the table by Louis' dulcet tones. He has the lungs of a twenty five year old costermonger and she descends, somewhat shell shocked and ever so slightly grumpy. Over breakfast, Alice tries to persuade me that her brother is trying it on, which may be the case, but I am not prepared to take the risk of sending him to school whilst he is ill. We wave her off at eight thirty and then I run a bath for Louis whilst I shave and clean my teeth, before preparing him for the day. Louis insists that he is well enough to walk the dogs on the Westwood, and accompanies me to Cherry Burton to collect the terriers. En route I ask him how long it has been since he saw his Nana and he tells me not for ages, so I arrange with Pip to call in for a cup of tea when we get back. It is a bright breezy day again on the common and Louis is happy to watch the terriers take their turn at chasing rabbits, but he runs out of steam when we arrive at Black Mill, he really isn't his usual self, although he seems better than yesterday. Back at Two Riggs, Pip gives him some fresh orange juice and an Easter egg that has been waiting for him and he chats to her for a while, but when she asks if he would like to stay and play for an hour, he insists on leaving with me. My daughter and her mum have had a falling out, which is a fairly frequent occurrence, as they have similar temperaments, but it is unfair on the children if they don't get to see their grandmother. We drive to Tickton and make lunch, Louis wants his usual ante pasta and fortunately I have the ingredients in the refrigerator, when I suggest that he might like a lie down after lunch, I am rebuffed. Louis has his day off already planned, he wants to see the new Iron Man film at the cinema. I check the show times on my iPad and the next screening starts at two, in twenty minutes time. It will keep him occupied for a couple of hours at least, so we drive to Cineworld at Kingswood and buy our tickets. The lights go down as we enter and the film starts after the adverts and the trailers for upcoming films, all of which seem to have an apocalyptic theme. Ironman 3, is a bit like Sarah's house, there is just too much packed into it. It is ridiculous and unbelievable, which is what you expect from a superhero movie, but there is just too much content and plot. Probably enough for three films, almost the antithesis of the recent Hobbit film which erred in the opposite direction. In any event, it almost kept Louis amused for two hours, but we have to have a toilet break half way through. When we emerge into the daylight, there is a huge pall of smoke towards Cottingham, which we later find out has been caused by an explosion at the electricity substation which supplies most of Hull. We drive back to Tickton on the bendy road through Wawne, to avoid any hold ups from the explosion, collect Norman and then drive on to North Bar, arriving around five o'clock. Alice has just got in after her graphics club and she and Louis want to go to Harper's, down Lairgate, for a fish and chip tea, which is OK by me and saves having to cook. The meal is excellent, as it always is since Harper's took over, but Louis is past his sell by date and starting to be more than a little naughty. Which is probably my fault, as we have packed a lot in and he was somewhat under the weather. We arrive home for six thirty and walk Norman round Seven Corners Lane, before Alice takes the little chap to bed for seven. Louis isn't the only one who feels tired and I consider ringing the leisure centre and postponing my Swimathon attempt for another day, but decide to put my feet up for an hour and see how I feel later. By eight o'clock I decide to go ahead and drive to the pool in good time, which is fortunate, because none of the staff on duty seem to know anything about it. Stuart the pool supervisor comes out and says it should be OK, but the East Riding of Yorkshire Swimming Club are in the pool until nine and the Masters class has the other half from eight thirty until ten. David, the chap that runs the masters, is an old acquaintance of mine and he tells me he will leave the end lane free and move his class into the half of the pool being used by the East Riding, when they leave at nine. This means I have to use the double lane reserved for public swimming, but fortunately there is only one woman using it, and I push off on my attempt at one hundred lengths in Medleys at a quarter to nine. Possession being nine tenths of the law, I claim the spot adjacent to the lane rope that divides me from the masters class and no one is inclined to challenge me for its ownership. I have already decided that after the day I have had, prudence is the best approach and set off trying to stay relaxed and smooth, but the first set of 500m is quite difficult, as the Masters class are practising freestyle sprints in the next lane, which makes the water very turbulent and choppy. The second set is easier as I am warmed up and the Masters class has now moved across into the far half of the pool. On the third set I lose concentration and am unsure whether I have completed four hundred or three hundred metres as I turn to complete the last medley before my water break. In the event I decide to give myself the benefit of the doubt and to add an extra hundred at the end for good measure. The fourth set goes well, but by the fifth and final 500m set, my shoulders and back are starting to ache, from the effects of the butterfly and as I complete the last length, I am questioning my decision to put in the extra hundred for good measure. It is only as I reach the end that I decide to play safe and swim another hundred metre medley. I finish on one hour, nine minutes and thirty seconds, pretty sure that I have swum 2,600m, rather than 2,500m, but at least it is behind me now and I leave the water resolving not to do the same thing next year. I get back to Sarah's for a quarter to eleven, pour myself a large vodka with ice to celebrate and unwind and then crash out after first letting Normy into the yard, for a final toilet break of the day.