Those of you who have known me for a long time will remember that I used to have a phobia of water. I don’t just mean I didn’t like it. I mean it terrified me. When we went on a boat I wouldn’t climb on unless the boat was pulled so close to the side that I couldn’t see any water between. I would not go in puddles and I absolutely would not go near a bath for love nor money. Then, for the sake of my back, I had to start going swimming. When I first went I was terrified and panicked quite a bit. However the lady who looks after me at swimming helped me to gradually build my confidence and now I’ll almost get in on my own and have become quite a competent, if not enthusiastic swimmer. Why am I telling you all this? Well when I went swimming this week they had a power cut. It meant I couldn’t have a shower when I got out and although they use very little chlorine, my Mistress didn’t want any left on my skin so asked if I’d mind having a shower when we got home. Now this is the bit that is unheard of. I got in the shower on my own, voluntarily, without being man, or more to the point woman, handled! My Mistress did not have to put a swimming costume on to wrestle me in there and came away having given me a good wash without getting unduly wet herself. She did help by making sure the water was nice and warm first and she gave me a lovely rub down with a towel afterwards. If I’m being honest I think I’d like to try the bath next with loads of bubbles and the wind up ducks she’s got. Next time I feel all achy, I might just ask if I can have one.
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