Poolside

I'm scared.

For some reason I have been appointed the 'chief judge / finishing marshall' at tomorrow's school swimming carnival.

Be warned - these are the kind of things that happen when one dares to escape
the daily grind and lose oneself in island life for a week.

I think I will be more like the 'chief indecision maker / finishing marshmallow' - soft and easily manipulated!

I'm one of those "I'm sorry. You don't like it? Please let me change it. I'm so sorry" types.

Not one of those "If you don't like it, kiss my ass" types.

The only decision I want to be making poolside is which cocktail to try next.

I'm scared. Did I mention?

There are students, and moreso their parents, who take this business quite seriously.

I know. My Dad was one of them. My husband will probably be one of them.

If I can sleep tonight, I will dream of fathers coming at me with accusing, angry stares and "sweetheart, you got it wrong - what were you looking at?".

Or worse than that, groups of mums.

We all know that a group of women have the power to bring whole nations to their knees, should they choose to do so.

Hell hath no fury than a Mum whose child was robbeth of a placing.

And they will probably be justified in their wrath.

I'm easily distracted.

One smile from a friendly parent, waft of hot chips or wave from a cute kid and I'm engaged - oblivious to who touched that god forsaken wall a tenth of a second earlier than whom else.

But rest assured, in my absence and obviously acknowledging the pressure of my morning task, my colleauges have given me a lovely role for the last, more casual part of the day's events.

I get to be the 'rescuer'  - in the pool with the children for the afternoon.

Kill me with kindness.

Happy Friday!

Shar :-)

By the way, it would have been a strawberry dacquiri - that I would've tried next.