Saturdays since joining the pool, an indulgence as modest as the riches it requires, consist of a mad dash of duties to be able get here at ten, and with that hour, a good table with a working umbrella, floating on my back, not-reading, throwing kids in the air and getting just burnt, like a proper grilled cheese sandwich and leaving at the limit of the season's brutality, only to return an hour before closing, a condensed repeat under Maxfield Parrish clouds until they whistle us out, if only to witness the pool glowing from us having been there.
nice one alex.
ReplyDeletedave