Thick as a Brick.

You could definitely say my first swimming lesson was a success. It was with Scott Balfour, whose daughter Kirsty was European Champion, Commonwealth medalist and two-time Olympian, so I guess he knows a swimmer when he's not seeing one.

Anyway, at the start of the lesson it was rolled-eyes, name-calling and world-weariness from Scott: 'you runners never bloody stretch!', but by the end he declared I was a swimmer (of sorts). Much to work on, but some real progress, especially with the head staying down, legs staying up and breathing on the bow wave. Or summat. The only downside was that my progress will be slowed by the fact that (his words) 'I'm a brick'. I sunk without trace when asked to play dead. If I was in Beijing, for example, I'd be asked to leave the swimming group and join the running group. Or sent to the salt mines. Oh well. Time to review the movie footage in the privacy of a darkened room.