Me and the errant ducks

Yesterday I went swimming while my boys were playing tennis. The indoor pool was full of children and parents with babies so I decide to brave the cold and sprint to the outdoor pool. (When I say “sprint” I actually mean  “fast waddle” but since I’m on a diet hopefully it will be less of a waddle in due course.)

Anyway, it was no surprise as it was freezing outside that the pool was empty except for two ducks: I think they got confused trying to find their way to a nearby lake and decided to check in at the sports centre for refreshments. Now I rather like swimming by myself in the pool which is where I ponder the meaning of life and other vitally important issue like the cost of chocolate, whether there’s a two for one on offer on the Slimfast bars and whether or not the Looney Left will actually cause a scene at Mrs Thatcher funeral (no prizes for guessing the answer to that one) so I was rather perturbed that once I recovered from mild hypothermia and started to swim that the ducks didn’t decide to clear off, bearing in mind the tidal waves that would soon be washing over them. Nevertheless, I started swimming with a gentle breast stroke whilst watching my aquatic bird companions. It was all rather picturesque and peaceful. However, as I approached Mr and Mrs Duck in the centre of the pool I was somewhat aghast when the brazen creatures began to make-out in front of me.

Yep, the ducks decided to indulge in some hot love right before my very eyes.

Ducks do it on dry land as well.  Curious. Still whether they get up to it  on dry land or on water at least they don’t have to change the bedsheets.

Personally, I think some things should be kept private. But you try telling that to a pair of ducks. Wanton creatures. Anyway, I swam to the end of the pool, turned around and started to swim back and they were still at it and steadfastly ignoring my pleads to move to outdoor jacuzzi. It was shameful behaviour indeed and what’s more it was particularly brutal hot love: when Mr Duck grabbed Mrs Duck’s head with his beak and shoved it underwater I was almost at the point of intervening. In fact, I looked around for the lifeguard for assistance but he was nowhere to be seen: I think he’d gone to look for some bird feed.

So just as I am drawing level with the ducks Mr Duck finishes having his wicked way and flaps off Mrs Duck’s back. At which point I decided it was best to swim with my mouth closed.

Mr Duck then sails up to me and looks me at with a beady eye as if to say “How was it for you?”

I was at the point of saying “wet” when he quacked. It went something like this:

“Quack, quack…. quack, quack, quack.”

Which roughly translated means:

“You’re a pervert watching me and Mrs Duck!”

To which I replied:

“Quack, quack, quack QUACK quack quack.”

Which roughly translated means:

“How do you like orange sauce, Mate?”

He and Mrs Duck were clearly outraged at my suggestion and so cleared off to the side of the pool to bask in the sun whilst watching for any indication that I was going to light up the poolside barbecue. They were still there when I left although just as was opening the door to go inside I heard something that went like this:

“Quack, quack.”

Which roughly translated means:

“*uck off.”

Ducks. Tricky creatures. But nevertheless still nice with orange sauce – or plum sauce for that matter.