The Japanese Swimming Baths

So humid has it been here in Ol' Hirosh, that one can hardly fingerwave one's hair without a fine sheen of sweat coating one's skin and dripping from one's wee nosie onto one's polka dot underthings. Tossing my sequinned Hello Kitty! handkerchief to one's side, I rued the day the Shinto gods invented humidity and damned my maple-frosted abode for not having the modern contraption of new-fangledness, Air Con. To the Family Swimming Baths, and snappy! And so it was I mounted my little red racer and sped to the local lagoon of aqua blue.

Donning my 1950s Glamourpuss togs and polka dot scarf (as pictured, from their web shoppe), I left the changing rooms and waded through the nostalgic disinfectant-foot-bath that evoked memories of fat men, wave machines and athlete's foot from my English childhood. Before me was spread acres of striped shadecloths, four glistening pools, skinny sun-kissed kiddies and fields of fake grass. I bagsied a spot under the shadecloth near the circular "rapids" style pool, where children sped along on the current, bobbling about on inflated rings, giving me a perfect view of capsizing tots and the occasional successfully-executed Eskimo roll; a most diverting sight in between pages of "How Proust Can Change Your Life".

When I went for a dip, I noted that each pool was surrounded by 5 lifeguards seated atop their own little laddered pavilion, many of them dozing off in the sun; the more alert ones berating certain dive-bombing, floaty-capsizing kiddies through a megaphone. Curiously, on the hour, a recorded announcement buzzed over the sound system, requesting us most politely to adjourn from the swimmerly activities for 5 minutes. I followed the locals, who gave a heave-ho without batting an eyelid, returned to their spot in the shade for a drink and a quick lie down upon the plastic sheeting* that was spread out upon every bagsied spot. What this 5 minute intermission is for, I know not. To refuel on iced tea? To sweep the pool for dead bodies, misplaced danglies or lost bikini padding? It is a mystery. However, when a little tune jingled from the speakers, everyone regrouped in an orderly fashion and recommenced splashing about in the cool waters.

Perchance I stumbled upon the Oriental version of Butlin's Holiday Camp? Thankfully, there was no mesh fence topped with barbed wire - so it wasn't *the* authentic Skegness experience - but on my next visit, I will have to investigate as to whether they sell saucy postcards at the shop.

* At picnics, cherry blossom parties, fireworks parties, beach or poolside, it is essential to bring a plastic sheet on which to sit or snooze. These can be picked up at any 100 Yen Shoppe or supermarket. Sheets are often decorated with Disney, Pokemon or Kitty, or other animation images and are brightly coloured. It was odd not to see anyone stretched out on their towel in the sun. I am yet to invest in the plastic sheeting myself, but will avoid Mickey Mouse versions at all costs.