Sandscript Swims

We have been dipping into the Commonwealth Games, literally on my part as swimming is one of the few sports with a chance of grabbing my attention; it’s easy to understand the rules and it’s mercifully short. To add interest, unlike the Olympics, Cyberspouse and I are on different teams. The United Kingdom is split asunder into England, the Kingdom of Scotland, the Principality of Wales and the Province of Northern Island.

Alongside the big names such as Canada and Australia, this year’s host, are tiny countries and islands we may never have heard of, but these are the ‘Friendly Games’ and the crowd love to cheer the valiant competitor coming in three laps behind everyone else in the relay. Also adding to the feel good factor has been the total integration of paralympians for the first time.

I like swimming, I love swimming in the sea, in rivers, lakes and heated swimming pools. In a previous incarnation we were nearing the end of a training course and waiting to see where we might be posted. For some reason I can’t recall, perhaps to do with our welfare, we were being interviewed by a person. What were my interests and hobbies, this person asked and I was stumped for an answer; competitive sport was not my thing, writing I had not taken seriously yet, dressmaking sounded boring, youth hostelling, walking vague, gardening was out of the question for a good few years to come. I heard myself say swimming. Swimming for leisure I meant and was horrified to hear a few weeks later that I had been put down for swimming races at Chrystal Palace.

I admire the swimmers in races. I know the few minutes or less the race takes is in contrast to the hours and years spent to reach international competition. Even more I am fascinated by their elegant dives, tumble turns and sleek powering through the glittering blue water. If I was there on the starting block I would be sure to take off seconds too soon or too late. In the backstroke race, as the other swimmers let go of the rails and propel themselves into a graceful arc, I would splash water into my nose and mouth and have to cling to the side spluttering to recover. Swimming is purely for fun, to cool off on a hot day and hopefully to save oneself or someone else in an emergency. Training and competitions have never held any attraction. Luckily when I turned up at Chrystal Palace I was only reserve and never entered the water.

I did not learn to swim till I was nearly twelve. I loved the water, but my activities were confined to paddling in the sea and wading in Frensham Ponds while my parents looked on, fully clothed and with blankets over their knees if it was the seaside. When we emigrated to Australia I was too embarrassed to tell the children at school I couldn’t swim. After one experience of the beach and Indian Ocean our parents decided to stick to the river. I kept splashing up and down till one day I started floating.

My novel Quarter Acre Block is inspired by my family’s experience of emigrating to Western Australia; it is not autobiographical, but the Palmer family, like mine, arrive for their new life unable to swim.
Read about the novel and my family’s own story at my website.
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