FAMILY dynamics at the swimming pool.
Holidays bring out the best and worst in
people. Watching people in the summer
sunshine is fascinating to me. I see
families excited, some angry, others totally comfortable with their
routines. Clearly seasoned travellers.
Take the guy in the blue shorts. Michael.
English.
You never quite know.
We have many German families here. The odd one of another nation. Yet none are Russian. They loved Egypt when I used to frequent
Egypt.
Loved it.
And the men. Anyhow…Michael. Our first full day by the pool and here was
this guy with blue trunks, a frustrated
animation team member as he stood at the side of the pool with an unwilling
daughter in tow, dancing along as the animator instructed the holiday makers to
dance in the water for Aqua Aerobics.
Almost silently my son and I exchanged words which showed we both had
acknowledged this guy with a slight silent smile.
Later in the afternoon, Michael was staggering around the
poolside. Singing. Ish.
Up to the bar for another drink, still
kinda singing. Passing us on our
sunbeds. “No sing?” He asked in broken English. Why do we speak in broken English when it’s
our mother tongue? Thinking we were of
another country, I just looked at him perplexed and raised my eyebrows with a
question mark to show I don’t understand.
Scott replied, “No, No sing.” As
inside I frowned. Engaging a drunk isn’t
what you do, especially if he thinks you can’t understand him. Something I learnt rather quickly when I went
into pub management at the tender age of 21.
Watching him, I could clearly see he had
his beer muscles on, finding it amusing to attempt to gently punch people in
the arms. That pub training didn’t allow
me to take my eyes off him. Almost as if
it would be my responsibility to sort out whatever was going to happen next.
The barman was saying something that was
outside of my earshot and asking Michael to calm down using his hands as if he
was dowsing down a fire.
Staggering back to his sunbed place, I
heard, “I’m totally
paralettic” as he
laughed. The passer by he was telling
tried not to have eye contact or smile which would be even worse!
After sometime he reached his sunbed and
began to ‘play’ with his son. The same
arm punching that he was attempting to entertain everyone with at the bar. Difference was, they were men, his son was at
most ten years old. The son looked angry
and upset. Fighting back with his swimming goggles, swinging for the top of his
dads head. Then the thumping started for
them both, back and forth swinging for each other. The Dad laughing, son with a furrowed
brow. Unhappy.
After some time of me watching this,
thinking inside that I suddenly was a social worker and should get involved,
the boy took off and sadly went swimming on his own. Still I wondered what I might do to
help. Should we take our ball into the
pool and begin to play catch? Cheering
him up? I summised what a terrible
father he must have and with no sign of the mother in sight, I guessed this was
meant to be father son bonding time. The
mother would surely go crazy if only she knew.
Should I offer to call the boys mum for
him? I was sure he was English. I know she would be horrified yet glad that
another mother would now be looking out for her boy.
The blue short guy became unconscious on
the sunbed as the boy began to play more happily and that was the last I saw of
the boy that day.
While it bothered me and still I wondered
if I should help, I did find myself sleeping well that night and setting up
camp with my family the following day.
To my shock, amazement and slight embarrassment this
seemed like a totally new day. I
witnessed a very well turned out father.
With his wife! Along with two beautiful daughters. There were packets of ping pong rackets and
balls, suncream galore and some solemn faces.
The dutiful wife applied suncream to his
back and rubbed in for protection against the blazing sunshine. With no great love or massage about it. But a comfort that demonstrated years of
marriage, with all its ups and downs.
Then the roles were reversed, the wife asked her husband to cream her back
too. Handing him the ping pong to be
revealed from its packaging, he looked at it front and back and threw it hap
hazardly on the sun lounger, tossing it aside for someone else to open as he
shook the suncream bottle to squeeze onto his hands.
I observed as he rubbed the cream into his
wife without even thinking and not much looking. He did it with ease of practice. They were comfortable together. He even
ensured he didn’t miss under the straps.
Quickly, practically this sun
cream application taught me so much.
This family were not perfect.
Michael definitely wasn’t. Yet
despite us noticing he ‘had his collar felt’ by his wife, he remained sober this
day. He played nicely with his three
children who all wore smiles of delight all day.
We all have our ups and downs. I feel I was right to feel concerned at the
situation I witnessed, yet I was wrong to assume he was a bad father. What I saw before me was a loving family and
a patient wife. Michael went the wrong
way about letting his hair down but from what I could see, he had more than
made up for his imperfections of being human.
