Jumping in the pool: the definitive review (7/10)

You’re supposed to grow up, get fat, have a job you hate, blah de blah de blah – I’ve gone on before about how this wall of maturity never actually hits. How you never suddenly ‘become’ a grown up. It’s just different and increased personal responsibility making people dull and conservative in their thoughts and actions.

That’s the kind of thing kids should be taught, by the way, instead of being left to believe that you will one day ‘become a grown up’ and everything will make sense.

But yeah – it doesn’t work like that. I’m still a tiny child in my mind, for good or ill, and this was no more the case than in Portugal, where we all once again rediscovered (as if we’d ever lost it) the sheer joy that is Jumping In The Pool.

Straight-up, diving, bombs, flips, falling in, diving headers, jumping volleys, a plethora of wrestling moves – all ending with a splash and a little bit of exhilaration. I don’t care who you are, what you think of anything or how many people have died by your hand – jumping into water (and knowing you won’t die doing so) is a hell of a lot of fun.

It gets less fun when you land a bit wrong and your nuts hurt for the next 20 minutes, but them’s the risks you take. And you can’t help but feel guilty when you frog splash an inflatable crocodile, only to breach the surface and realise the poor thing has burst.

Strangely, it survived the very same move a few years ago when I was heavier.

But it’s freeing. Childish. Liberating. Fun. And it’s all I dare do, because I’m never going skydiving or any shit like that. So deal with it.


11 of 14 catch up entries left.


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