We saw a weird sight today. One of these …
It was a swimming pool on a lorry. Or on a truck, if you don’t speak Brenglish.
It gave me one of those blue pill/ red pill moments. A glitch in the matrix. Up to that point I had no idea that swimming pools arrived in one piece on the back of a truck/ lorry/ HGV. I thought that some workmen dug out the hole and then lined it with Hockney-esque tiles.
A little like this:
That pool looks like a proper hole excavated by hoary-handed sons (or daughters) of toil and then made waterproof with brick and ceramics. That’s how I thought a swimming pool should be made.
I hadn’t anticipated that a pool might be made of wobbly fibreglass and come on the rear end of a sem-eye. That just seems like cheating.
I suppose I have been lulled into a false send of swimming pool security because the only swimming pools I have known have been those huge pools in gyms or municipal “baths”. Or the Olympic sized jobbies on the telly. I can’t imagine those arriving on the back of a lorry.
You’re probably going to say “pah” at this point. How could I not know that? Surely everyone knows that some domestic swimming pools come ready-made from the factory?
Sorry. I may live in Surrey but the Once family budget does not run to swimming pools, saunae, hot tubs or ornamental water features. We did once have a paddling pool for the Best Boy in the World. And there’s a bucket on the patio half full of rubble and water where I started to do some DIY and then lost interest. But apart from that we’re not in the financial league where swimming pools might be affordable.
It’s at moments like that where you re-appraise your world view. You can’t deny that swimming pools come on lorries when there’s a swimming pool on a lorry right in front of you.
It even had a deep end and a shallow end. That seemed particularly silly stuck up in the air and holding up the traffic at 50 miles per hour.
The sign on the back of the lorry said “wide load”. Somehow that got me onto the Beatles. It was indeed a wide and wobbling load.
When we got home, I googled it. Apparently it costs between £20,000 and £25,000 for a one-piece fibreglass pool.
“One piece”. That bit sounds really odd. A swimming costume can be one-piece. But surely a swimming pool is nothing more than a glorified hole. Can that really be called a one-piece?
So there you have it. Money may not grow on trees, but swimming pools do sometimes come on lorries. And I did not know that before today.