Judith Lacy's Jottings: When I looked good in a bikini - even if I was crying

Learning to swim was obviously not a pleasurable experience but I remember nothing about it. Yes, that's me aged 8.

OPINION:

When the tar starts to melt, it's time to forget any scars, remove any barriers and get in the car to go not too far.

Yes, it's outdoor swimming season. Even people with low vision know I don't have the body of a swimmer but that's the beauty of water - you are pretty much hidden and weightless.

That shock of the cool water when you first jump in, the pause while you summon the courage to put your head under, then gasping for breath at the 25m mark as your lungs aren't ready to do the whole 50. And then the satisfaction as you can do 50m without stopping, then 100m.

As well as a full-body workout, I love you can't be attached to a device while swimming or have someone chirping in your ear. It's just one, two, three, breathe, one, two, three, breathe.

I was all set to make my 2021-22 debut on Sunday but the temperature plummeted so much I was searching for my wheat bag, not my togs. This year will be extra special as it will be my first summer with my new eyes. I'll be able to see so much more, though I'm not sure I need 20/20 vision of used sticking plasters.

I've always loved swimming pools though learning to swim was obviously not a happy process.

This photo appeared in one of the Whanganui daily papers (yes, there were two then) on January 8, 1979. I was 8 and attending swimming lessons at Whanganui East.

Besides proof that I once looked good in a bikini, the photo and article are fascinating from a journalist's perspective. I am not named - in fact I'm just referred to as a child.

The person who wrote the story and the person who took the photo are not named. I have no recollection of these swimming lessons, let alone this photo being taken, but I doubt my parents' permission was sought. How times have changed.

The point of the story was my swimming teacher George Vernal, who was nearly 80, had only started swimming the year before after a lapse of about 40 years.

I have fond memories of dad taking my brother and me to the Kakaramea School pool after afternoon milking, while mum got the dinner ready. At that stage I was still taller than my brother and would delight in beating him in races in the pool, legs and arms powering through the water.

At boarding school, swimming was more about sunbathing plastered in baby oil. The school shop even sold the stuff - not to be recommended.

When I started doing women's triathlons it was the swimming leg I was most worried about but a manager where I worked organised a good coach for us and I'm proud to say I can breathe on both sides while doing freestyle.

I've had three scary experiences in swimming pools.

The first was as a child when we went down the road to a neighbour's Para pool. You couldn't swim lengths but it was great for mucking around in. One day I overshot an inflatable and ended up upside down in a position I didn't think I could untangle myself from.

Another was when a lifeguard decided to start packing up early and he pulled the rope attached to the cover right across my throat as I was swimming. Needless to say, I complained.

The third was while doing a triathlon one year and women swam over the top of me - not cool in anyone's language.

Like any shared space there's always some frustration and negotiation but as the sun goes down and the Lido empties out there's nothing like going up and down in the velvety water. I'm a star and there's not a fish in sight.