Swimming in pools..

It's not an analogy. quite literal infact... the husband and I (after an intense two week discussion of climatic dips and thermal clothes and snow boots) finally stepped into the wilderness (read the street outside) and took our bus after a 675m walk to the bus stop, to L'Aquadome!
Built for the residents of Lasalle, the 3 indoor pools are heated, have different features, need based et cetera et cetera. So there we were, amidst veteran swimmers who were doing hardcore laps up and down the 25m pool, where we lasted half the length of that pool and took to bouncing around and observing the innate technique of swimming. Plunge in, emerge when you think your lungs might explode, breath in through mouth, back in the water for three strokes, push shoulder forward and come up for breath #2.. back in and so on and so forth. I vaguely discerned the lifeguard peering casually in our direction and wondered if he was wondering if he should jump in to save us, seeing our lack of skill or if he was having a hearty laugh while maintaining his curious composure.
After a shower and change of clothes (duh!) we left the premises and head back to our trusty old bus stop and waited while the wind whipped my hair into a new do. The bus showed up eventually (it's a Saturday, you can't hurry the sweet old thing) and we were privy to raucous laughter and inane loud conversation courtesy high school folks( i now know that Rooney likes this girl in their class), causing me to think of my days of decibel controlled laughter with my bum chums from college. Just when I was preparing to immerse self into general deviations in the days of my youngish youth, there is this subtle nudge on the side of my jacket (the jacket's too puffy to let the nudge permeate through to my actual hand) indicating that the ride is over. Time to get off and walk. 675m- back home.