So, I was thinking about my
activity in our outside pool. Our pool
is surrounded by trees, including the pine trees that give their name to our
district and, although these trees are evergreen they also discard their
needles throughout the year – and a fair quantity of them fall into our pool. We do pay for our community pool to be
cleaned and serviced, but the constant rain of pine needles and cones is a
problem on a daily basis and our pool persons are not that frequent visitors.
If you are a regular swimmer you
will know how unsettlingly irritating a single strand of free-floating hair can
be, so imagine the shock of a series of sharp pointed pine needles can be – especially
if you have just come from our stretch of the Med where for the past week or so
we have been dealing with an outbreak of medusas
(jellyfish) that do sting, so the instinctive reaction to anything sharp in
water is to fear future pain.
My major swim is in our local
pool (medusa free) where I generally swim a metric mile and feel quite smug
about it, so our community pool is more relaxed semi-swimming. And this is where the thoughts at the
beginning of this writing come in.
As I dislike being pricked by
pine needles, I of course, assume that no one else likes it either. I have therefore taken, in my community pool
swims, to skim the surface collecting the pine needles and throwing them out of
the water.
From time to time I perform (what
I consider to be) an elegant surface dive to retrieve and discard the seed
cases and fractured cones that litter the floor of the pool. So, in my mind, after the mindless lengths
that I do in the swimming pool, I feel that I have a sort of purpose in our
community pool. Just like those fish
that are kept in aquaria solely to clean the place up.
And I should have left it at
that.
But no, I decided to examine my
image in a little more detail and typed a fateful enquiry into the box and got
sucked in to a whole wealth of information in the same way that I did every
time I ever ventured to look inside the Guinness Book of Records. But the digression with the Book of Records
is of a different nature to that in the Internet. I have started off trying to find out the
size of the largest uncut diamond ever found and ended up being fascinated by
the wing span of birds. With the
Internet you tend to go deeper into the same thing in a profoundly superficial
way!
I now know more about sand
sifting stars, gobies, Cory doras, freshwater catfish, bluestreak cleaner
wrass, grandpa snails, suckermouth catfish and Nerite snails, than is strictly
necessary for a quiet life. I have also
discovered an intense community of fish lovers who are truly preoccupied with
the problems of aquarium cleaning. I
mean really, truly, preoccupied!
Think that I have realized a valuable life
lesson: metaphors and similes are approximations and, unless you are a
Shakespeare, the depth of your metaphor only reaches down a single level of
association and the further you research your initial thought the further, like
the chance meeting on a dissecting-table of a sewing-machine and an umbrella -
so to speak.