Nine Steps to Using a Paddling Pool

Sometimes, you just gotta cool down.

These last few days it's been really quite warm, so we've had the paddling pool out for my son to play in.  It's fascinating how he doesn't appear to have any reaction to the coolness of the pool water versus the general temperature, whilst both myself and my wife, when tempted to the water, find it unacceptably cold.  I've theorised that the body acclimatises to the water in a number of steps, as follows:

Step 1: Touching the water with your toe, you say something along the lines of "OH MY GOD THAT'S TOO COLD!!!" and, resistant to your childs' commands, you decide to next to the paddling pool and read a book.

Step 2: Sat next to the pool, you think about just how hot it is, and summarise that it might actually be quite nice to have a paddle.

Step 3: You stand in the pool.  After a few seconds you become used to the water and find that paddling is relatively pleasant, but when you get accidentally splashed up to the knee you flee the pool squealing "It's SO COLD!!!""

Step 4: You reluctantly return to the pool, cautious of splashes.

Step 5: After persistent requests from your child, you kneel down in the pool.  That's cold.

Step 6: Then you sit in the pool. Now THAT'S cold.

Step 7: Your child finds a jug from somewhere, and chucks an entire jug of icy water at you. Blinded and shaking from the freezing water working its way down your torso, you sit in the pool clutching your face, hoping to be able to open your eyes sometime the next day.

Step 8: Your child takes advantage of your inability to see by pouring what seems to be the contents of the Arctic Sea on the back of your head.

Step 9: Congratulations, you are now acclimatised to the water!



Today the weather is far worse, and I look forward to a day determinedly inside :)

The Paddling Pool

We've got a paddling pool (well, actually we've got two, the blogger lifestyle is obviously paying off, next it'll be a private plane) and with it being the summer, it's being used.

My son loves the paddling pool, it's roughly perhaps two foot deep (just over half a metre for metric folk) and its fascinating how the pool, which as I say my son loves, he's never happier than when he's jumping into the pool and splashing around, is actually the coldest object known to humanity.

My son will be happy playing by himself in the pool for a while, but then you'll hear the dreaded cry "Daddy, you can get in the pool!"

My wife is no help, this would be ideal time for her to ask me to clear out the garage or put my shoes away or one of the other many chores around the house that I should do.  But instead she'll say to my son "Of course Daddy can get in the pool! Go on daddy!!"

I trudge upstairs to locate and release the swimming shorts, get changed, and go outside to face my fear.

It's even worse than I'd imagined.  The inflated rectangular pool of icy death, full to the brim of water that I assumed has been freshly imported from either Siberia or Alaska, awaits me.

And in the middle of the pool is my son, splashing like a manic, sending icy daggers of water in all directions.

Gingerly I stand in the pool, my feet demanding to see their lawyers as they dink beneath the depths.

That isn't enough.

"Sit down daddy!!" my son implores.

So you drop to your knees, and eventually plonk yourself square into the pool, the water now lapping somewhere around your tummy, with your legs entering a competition for Frostbite of the Year.

The funny thing is, your body acclimatises, and after a few minutes, it's okay.  But what happens is that only the bits of your body that stay underwater acclimatise, everything that isn't in the water stays totally unprepared, so every time I get splashed the remainder of my body that gets hit with water says "OH MY WORD WHAT IS IT WHY ON EARTH IS THERE FREEZING WATER ON ME?!?"

Nevertheless, eventually you do get used to it, and you actually start having fun, and you even wonder what all the fuss was about.

Until the next time, that is.

Risking My Life

I have a love-hate relationship with water.  I love it, in that without water I'd die of dehydration, and hate it in that I've never learned to swim.

I've always vaguely thought that I ought to learn how to swim, but to be honest it's never been a priority.  However, recently I've encountered swimming pools, on more than one occasion. (And by that I mean two occasions)

The first was as part of a spa day that I and my wife enjoyed as an anniversary present.  After a surprisingly pleasant facial, and an absolutely agonising back massage - next time I'm going to get a pedicure instead - we hit the pool, and I spent an hour slowly walking up and down the pool, occasionally attempting to hold on to the side and lift my body into a floating position.

The second time was last Sunday at a birthday party held for one of my son's school friends - I was quite impressed of the choice of a swimming pool rather than a soft play centre (I have long standing issues with soft play centres, as can be read in past posts here and here), and being a childrens pool it was reasonably shallow, and foolishly I thought that I could use the pool as an opportunity to practice my swimming skills.

After slipping and falling over, getting wholeheartedly submerged, and thinking for a moment "I'm actually going to drown in three feet of water, " I somehow successfully found my footing and rose to my feet, water gushing out of my nose and ears as my lungs attempted to reestablish the normal pattern of breathing air.

My wife, to be quite honest, looked wholly unimpressed by the way that I had managed to save my own life, and if I hadn't known better was possibly even tempted to point out that the water was so low that there was every chance that I could have just drank it.  I argued that I had been let down by the floating noodle that I was clutching on to for dear life, it's supposed to be something that kids can grab hold of and float with, and yet it seems totally unable to support my well-built figure.

Sadly my son absolutely loves being in swimming pools and so I'm returning to the same pool in a couple of weeks.  Not to worry though, there's a shop that rents out scuba gear so I'll be prepared for the depths.  Plus I've been reading Tim's advice on avoiding shark attacks.

Finally, my wife's YouTube channel has received some positive attention - she's started up a flosstube channel (cross stitching), and is apparently reasonably good at it, looking at her views and subscribers - go check it out :)

Going for a walk!

And here's another guest blog from my dad, Graham Raven.  I'll just briefly ask that if you haven't already viewed & liked my Guild synopsis video on Youtube that I'd be really grateful if you do :) Thanks!

The favourite one will be played on the Geek & Sundry channel on the 29th of September, I can't imagine that mine is going to be best because there's some seriously decent ones been submitted (and mine is a bit... variable shall we say) but I'd like to at least have a decent number of views and likes.

Over to you dad!

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It was a typical grey autumn Sunday morning. ‘Mellow’ seemed to describe it well enough, neither hot nor cold, with just a suggestion of breeze, just mellow. It was too early for frantic human activity and even the eternal traffic noise from the nearby dual carriageway seemed muted. Birds sang, a profusion of berries shone in the sunlight, tree tops moved gently, the air was good, fresh and clean without threatening to scour your lungs with needles of ice. All seemed well.

I mused how wildlife increasingly wakes with the first smear of the days light as the Sun creeps over the horizon, rat and toad, stoat and minnow arise from sleeps embrace, but humankind is sluggish and was therefore quiet.

We arrived at the Great Humber Park soon after breakfast. It is easy to let oneself become mazed with nature’s wonders. There are several million species of trees out there, all indistinguishable from one another. They are full of Penguins or so I’m told – or possibly or Magpies. I remember years ago I used to wander the pathways collecting examples of wild flowers with which the park is so abundantly blessed. I once collected a daisy, and fifty-nine things that weren’t. Of course, such activity is strictly illegal these days and to be abhorred.

The parks information posters tell us that Horseshoe Vetch, Charlock, Sea Urchin, Hemlock, Water-Dropwort, Mango, Cat's Ear, Wall Lettuce, Pineapple, Loon, Yam, Nettle-Leaved Selfheal, Cactus, Twayblade, Bougainvillaea, Saxifrage, Breadfruit, and Tundra are all to be found within the parks confines. One day soon I really must search for these wonders in earnest.

But I digress. Regardless of natures evident beauty everywhere I looked, such wonders were quickly passed over, for my colleague and I were on patrol today, and in the guise of ordinary dog walkers.

The anti-RBSD squad began patrol a little after 8am. The park is disarmingly quiet at this time of day but this was the very time when miscreants seek to do their foul deeds.

Location 1A was reached quickly and nothing was found to be amiss.

I mentally ticked off the first stop of my check list. So far, so good I thought, but remain vigilant, I felt in my bones that out there somewhere would be our ‘prey’.

Some distance further we came to the lake (ok pond). The only sign of life, apart from the odd owl paddling in the reeds, was a solitary fisherman.

We exchanged greetings and I enquired in an equable manner whether or not the larch were biting, and he turned and stared at me for a long time.

There is much inbreeding in these parts, and I put it down to that.

The dogs were excited, a walk in the park is a big treat for them as rarely do they have so much freedom, so much of ‘everywhere’ to explore. As we proceeded we encountered other dog walkers who came and went, greeted, fussed dogs and continued their way. It was beginning to look as if the park was clean today and we were making our way back to the car when we spotted them! 

Oh so innocent! An elderly couple walking quietly through the park, she with a sturdy carrier bag half full of bird seed.

For goodness sake, there must be 5kg of the stuff in there, that’s almost enough to feed a Roc*

Modern protocol forbade the urge to tie them to the nearest tree and douse them with cold water as they richly deserved, so we hurried in the direction they had come from to uncover their misdeeds. And yes indeed, there was a trail of park benches all but smothered in bird seed, squabbling birds and bird droppings.

Some of the birds too full to fly, scuttled out of the way of curious dogs.

We hurriedly swept the illicit mounds of seed onto the ground thereby making the benches useable once more for park visitors.

I bid my companion to remind me to boil my left hand in Domestos for 24 hours when we got back to base, you can’t be too careful with potential bird disease you know.

The park administrators provide ample bird tables and feeding areas throughout the park to satisfy bird feeding fanatics. There is simply no need to cover every park bench in bird seed.

It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it. Rest assured dear readers, the anti RBSD** squad will maintain its vigilance and strive to keep park benches free from offensive bird seed.

*Legendary two-headed bird known for carrying off humans and occasional farm animals to feed to it’s young on mountain tops. Sodding big!

** Rogue Bird Seed Droppers.