I am a 34 year old woman. 

And 3 years ago I got ridiculously excited about finally using a blow up whale in a pool in Alcudia. Mr W and I bought it on our first trip to Spain back in 2014 and like a mini-curse, the heavens opened and he stayed in his box. 

2 years ago, England was navigating its way through a mega heatwave and lockdown measures. We cooked by day and sweat by night. By August 2020, I finally relented and bought a big blow up pool. I bought an electric air pump and some chlorine tablets. This bad boy would make everything more bearable. The day the box landed on our doorstep, the rain came. It brought wind and chilly temperatures and away the box went. 

Last year, the UK had one week of hot weather and the box became dusty in the garden shed. 

Now I remember the joy of being poolside in 2019. I remember the beads of water falling from my hair, down my back, leaving an icy cool path in its wake. I remember blowing up Willy the whale and Mr W laughing at me. I also remember him jumping all over him in the pool. I remember how freeing it was to have fun that many think should stay in childhood. 

Willy is up in the suitcases with the flippers and snorkel gear, just waiting for our next trip poolside. But today, with a free-ish weekend that will see the UK bathing in another heatwave, I have freed the blow up pool from its box, broken the sellotape that sealed it, and set the pump to work. I have prepared a cabana style area at the end of our garden. There are sheets shielding us from pervy eyes and a table to hold our drinks. There is ice in the freezer and gin in the fridge. There is a projector waiting to whirr into life so we can sit in the cool water and watch a Disney film. There are lights that will be turned on when night falls and a smile will remain firmly fixed on my face. 

I am a 34 year old woman. There are more silly times ahead.