We built a pool yesterday. The whole process probably took about 20 minutes from start to finish and it was the biggest hit since New Zealand invented Pavlova.
I should start from the start. We had 27 degrees, burn-your-feet-even-thinking-about-walking-barefoot kinda 27 degrees. Can-I-have-an-Icie kinda 27 degrees. (The this-is-not_Fahrenheit-it’s-celcius-and-that’s-lots 27 degrees). Actually in the scheme of things it wasn’t the hottest day but it was paired with about 95% humidity so I’m calling that hot enough to demand a pool.
As ya do.
So I say to my husband “I’m done, we need a pool”. The kids are hot, I’m grumpy and we need a pool. In his best condescending, let-me-get-that-for-you voice he promises to get me one.
Nek Minnit…. (I can’t believe there is a Wikipedia definition for that…)
In case it’s not so clear, this is a trailer, hooked on to the back of his work-van. That is a tarpaulin, usually in his work van. Those are my sons filling the make-shift trailer-pool thing with water.
And then this happened
Yep, said pool was in use within minutes. Abby looks on while our neighbour attempts backstroke. The backstroke wasn’t entirely successful but she did do more lengths than she has ever done before.
Standing looking important at the back of his work-van is my hubby. The mastermind of the pool. “Wife want pool, man provide”.
The pool sat hitched to the van for a few days when sadly the trailer needed using for, well, … work purposes. AND the van needed a WOF and my hubby didn’t think it’d be so smart to drive it through a Vehicle Testing Station to get a warrant with a pool attached. Smart Guy.
So *someone* declared the pool needed emptying.
And this happened.
And then this happened.
And then it was gone. The pool became a trailer and life down our street returned to normal again.
Until the next time, of course.