Gemstone
Here for the Journey
When I was a child we didn’t have a lot of money to spare, although my father worked long and antisocial hours. Bank holidays came and went and I played in the garden or, if I was very lucky and Dad was home, went to the local swimming baths. There was no changing room at the local baths and the cubicles were along the two lengths of the pool, separated from the general public by thick waterproof curtains.
I loved going to the baths with Dad. Although I could not swim, Dad would help me paddle around and then with his amazing sense of fun would dive down and grab my ankle, causing me to scream and giggle. I longed for the time when we had swimming lessons at school and I would be able to swim like Dad and maybe even go with a towel rolled up under my arm with my friends to the baths.
Imagine my joy one Monday when it was announced that my class was to start swimming lessons that Wednesday morning. I couldn’t wait to bring the letter back, signed by Mum with the money for the coach in the envelope. I remembered the news item about someone who swam the channel and the smiling swimmer emerging triumphant at the other side. That would be me one day! The reality was a little different.
Wednesday arrived and an excited class boarded the coach and made the journey to the local baths. It was on the coach it started.
“Hey Gemma,” shouted one boy, “Don’t jump in or there’ll be a tidal wave”. When everyone had stopped laughing another boy jumped on the bandwagon and reasoned, “Nah, don’t worry Bobby when Gemma jumps in, the water jumps out”. Everyone was laughing uncontrollably and I began to wish I didn’t have to go to the pool at all.
Then, from the back of the bus, one solitary voice piped up, “No, you’ve got it all wrong. If we were all shipwrecked Gemma would float to the desert island AND she would be to one to survive, ‘cos she’s got enough to keep her going. Aint that right Gem?” How I loved that boy. For a few minutes he had silenced the bullies. Then the first boy piped up,
“Yea and when she’d eaten all the coconuts, she’d start on US!”
© July 2008
I loved going to the baths with Dad. Although I could not swim, Dad would help me paddle around and then with his amazing sense of fun would dive down and grab my ankle, causing me to scream and giggle. I longed for the time when we had swimming lessons at school and I would be able to swim like Dad and maybe even go with a towel rolled up under my arm with my friends to the baths.
Imagine my joy one Monday when it was announced that my class was to start swimming lessons that Wednesday morning. I couldn’t wait to bring the letter back, signed by Mum with the money for the coach in the envelope. I remembered the news item about someone who swam the channel and the smiling swimmer emerging triumphant at the other side. That would be me one day! The reality was a little different.
Wednesday arrived and an excited class boarded the coach and made the journey to the local baths. It was on the coach it started.
“Hey Gemma,” shouted one boy, “Don’t jump in or there’ll be a tidal wave”. When everyone had stopped laughing another boy jumped on the bandwagon and reasoned, “Nah, don’t worry Bobby when Gemma jumps in, the water jumps out”. Everyone was laughing uncontrollably and I began to wish I didn’t have to go to the pool at all.
Then, from the back of the bus, one solitary voice piped up, “No, you’ve got it all wrong. If we were all shipwrecked Gemma would float to the desert island AND she would be to one to survive, ‘cos she’s got enough to keep her going. Aint that right Gem?” How I loved that boy. For a few minutes he had silenced the bullies. Then the first boy piped up,
“Yea and when she’d eaten all the coconuts, she’d start on US!”
© July 2008
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