![]() I suspect we dreaded those lessons as much as our instructors dreaded teaching us, those hopeless Asian kids spluttering with anxiety inside the enclosed training pool, those stinking hothouses of chemicals, piss and wet togs (or cossies, or bathers, or swimmers – depending on your state).Īfter the nightmare was over, we’d be sedated with a treat – a Redskin (Australians veer towards racism even with our confectionary), an ice block or a packet of frogs – before falling asleep in the stuffy Ford Cortina, hair matted to our temples, seat belts twisted into our skin and fingers dusted orange from the Twisties we stole from each other. ![]() The North Sydney Olympic Pool beside the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Photograph: kokkai/Getty ImagesĮven Sydney’s indoor pools – which I usually avoid because of the claustrophobic chlorine pong – are impressive.
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