deep water

When I was at boarding school I spent a lot of time at the bottom of the diving pool. I liked it there. It made my ears hurt like crazy but I loved it, so I just stayed down there. For as long as I could of course. Sometimes I had to come up for air. Or diving into it – splash into the blue – eyes open – stream of light through chlorinated blue – bubble-world- just me swirling-turning – coming to rest at the bottom of a pool of light – fish-world in which the only fishes there were me – that was my haven – the bottom of the diving pool. Or any water really. That was where I lived most of the time is not too great an exaggeration when I grew up in South Africa and water was always there and the sun, to make you want to get in. That is what I miss most of all. These days I keep having surreal nightmare-istic dreams about boarding school. Every night almost. Dormitories and horrid toilets, always toilets and house-mistresses, prefects and bitchy girls, but never the great blue beautiful diving pool, so very, very cool and deep.
Schweetch. I so wish I was there right now.