Ring of fast water

As I mentioned yesterday, the pool was constructed of a ring formed by a strip of metal on its edges and when filled with water, the thin metal wall, with the pressure of the water pushing outwards with equal force, stayed upright (see physics again, I keep saying kids should be taught that first). We would dive from one side to the other of the pool and force a wave to wobble the entire ring, destabilising the shape. Or we would dive across the pool from different quarters and cause waves to collide at varying points. It became a regular game to see who could displace the most water. Another regular way was, when three (or more) of us were in the pool, we would start swimming around the inside of the pool as close to the edge as possible in an attempt to get a whirlpool effect happening. Then taking diving leaps as we went around, chasing the feet of the person in front of us, we would try to force a continual wave up the side of the pool. If we were fast enough, when we stopped pushing the water around we would float and let the spinning wave drag us along around the edge.

The back concrete steps as mentioned, were a place where the banished would sit, watching the privileged still playing in the water. Or, occasionally when any of us would be told to take a 15 mins break out of the water. We would sit, often shivering with the hypo-thermically induced chill from swimming too long in the cold water during our cool summers. The water draining off our skin, forming a small pool beneath our trembling bodies on the rough concrete of the step.

The area of grass where the pool would be set up on each year was just at the rear of the house, below the ‘boys’ bedroom window and to the right side of the steps (if you were coming down them). And, incidentally, was only a yard or two away from the side of the steps.  The rest of the yard below the pool was the annual vegetable garden patch and the lawn running down to the back fence. Near the rear of the fence at the back of our yard was a small apple tree. The far side of the yard was where the garage, unfamiliar to cars, and the small work shed sat. All of this seemed well spread out and large in appearance to we children. Though it was probably no more than five or six metres across, to the wall of the shed. But surprisingly the day one of us decided they could jump into the pool, a pool containing several thousand litres of water, from the concrete steps, and didn’t quite make it, was the day we had our first glimpse of flash flooding and the consequences (and I’m not referring only to the destruction of areas of the yard) and the aftermath of such a failed attempt at superior splashing.

(continued tomorrow)