Las tetas Afueras

The community swimming pool. A haven for harmless family fun. An often-serene locale; children paddling in the cool water, parents cajoling them from the safety of dry land, teenagers splashing each other in a ritualistic game of underwater fornication, others – like me – trying to relive the old days when they could swim 50 metres without requiring oxygen at the other end. The usual.

Not so in sunny Madrid.

While these everyday meaningless occurrences certainly do take place, enter typical Spanish absurdities.

Women.

Ladies of all shapes and sizes, spanning all 3 generations of the present day, breasts out, arses squeezed precariously into vacillating g-strings, sunning themselves under the unrelenting Madrid sol; like veritable shrimps on a Barby.

With scarcely a bra in sight, imagine my terror when an elderly woman came bounding toward me, naked watermelons-for-tits bouncing with every stride, g-banger stretched to breaking point, woman gaining momentum as she walked. Fortunately, she was only in hot pursuit of a chair which had just been made vacant next to me. Clearly its previous occupant had foreseen this catastrophe unfolding, and taken off to safer ground. Shudder!

Having lived to tell the tale, I can say with resolve that it's not all bad at my local inner-city piscina, with many a bright young thing sporting some fairly enticing racks. You gotta take the good with the bad. Reckon I’ll take long-term membership!