It’s been a couple of weeks since I last had a spin class, so my
enthusiasm levels were fairly low yesterday. Bad weather had caused a couple of
cancellations and a little end of term rest mean that this week, as I dragged
myself to the rooftop pool, I was filled with dread and a desperate wish that I
was actually on my way home to drink tea and continue working my way to the end
of the Game of Thrones series 3 (I’m under quite considerable pressure to “hurry
the hell up” so that we can get cracking on the new fourth series).
Fortunately, once I had
got over the fact that I was just going to have to man up and join in, I had a
great time as always, and left really feeling the impact of the weeks of rest.
This morning I
continued the good behaviour with another early morning swim in the pool before
work. However, as I turned at the end of the 49th length, preparing
to hit 50 and head in for a shower, something horrible happened, that led to me
ending my swim half-hyperventilating, panicking and squealing to the end of the
final length.
A bird, a big, ugly
blackbird fell heavily into the water where my outstretched arm had just been.
It was dead. It was dead, and lifeless and directly next to me. I don’t have a
problem with birds, in fact I’m fairly fearless of most animals (other than
mice), but dead things terrify me to my core. They always have. Anything dead
and very recognisable as an animal, whether it’s squashed on the road, an upturned seagull on the beach or a fluffy bunny being prepared
for a meal (it has to be complete with head, feet, eyes and fur to have the
full negative impact) makes me feel utterly vile and cold on the inside, and
sends me shuddering in the opposite direction as fast as it’s physically
possible.
I’m now dreading a
return to the pool. I’m going to have to walk past on my back to the flat this evening
to make sure it’s gone and not hiding under the water anywhere, otherwise I’ll
have to email the building and request its removal
Ergh, that was far from
the ideal start to my day!
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