Confessional

What the lifeguard really thinks about you

WHEN people hear ‘lifeguard’ they tend to think of a bronzed, Baywatch-type hunk, overseeing a sun-soaked beach. But I work part-time at the local public swimming pool and it’s not glamorous.

The main part of the job is telling kids to stop messing about. It’s worse in the summer holidays — we get ten- and 12-year-olds coming with their mates and trying to push each other in.

We’re not supposed to yell unless it’s an emergency, but after a long day of telling Felixes and Ralphs to stop dive-bombing, I admit I may have shouted.

The other difficult ones are competitive dads. They’ll run along the edge of the pool, timing their kids’ lengths. I feel like saying: ‘It’s meant to be fun!’

My biggest fear is someone getting into trouble. A woman got cramp, and when I pulled her out, she walked off. A ‘thank you’ would have been nice.

Then there was a teenager who had an asthma attack — that was scary, as he went almost blue, but his friend ran over with his inhaler and he was OK.

My favourite swimmers are the old ladies who have a Wednesday morning swimming club.

They move at a stately pace, but they really enjoy it. They’re always watching out for each other. The over 60s are the only ones I trust to stay safe.