Scuba drowning in Faliraki, Bordy and Buddy

Scuba Drowning in Faliraki



The original Inbetweeners. Mif, Indi, me, Ben, Bordy and Naylor.

Since I've been learning to swim, I've been thinking a bit more about why I dislike it so much.
 
My first blog post about swimming gives you a flavour - but the more I think back, there are definitely two or three other reasons that spring to mind and would explain my fear and trepidation when it comes to being in the water.

1. This may sound like an excuse, and there's no scientific evidence to back this up as far as I'm aware, but I think it could be genetic. My parents aren't great swimmers and my grandad couldn't swim either - a slight problem considering he was in the navy during the war. He only learnt to swim when they threw him overboard in Malta and shouted back - "now swim you b*****d!". I hope I don't drive Clive to these sorts of extremes.
2. My mom has kindly reminded me this week of a Haven holiday we had in Weymouth when I was younger. Seaview holiday park - and Jamie decided he could swim. He was not going to wear his armbands, he insisted he could swim. Afterall, my brothers weren't wearing armbands - why should I. I sunk. I was hauled out soaking and sobbing.
3. Scuba diving in Faliraki. Clearly not my wisest decision. If I can offer one piece of advice to all non-swimmers out there; if you're incapable of swimming a length in the pool at your hotel, don't assume you'll be fine underwater at sea.
   
   It was my post-A Level lads holiday. Now, for some unknown reason, probably because there was nothing to do during the days; especially after my best pal Bordy lost our only football and our frisbee (in the ocean and hotel roof respectively); I signed up for a scuba diving session.  So, one morning our group took a boat trip out to sea.
   
   Eventually we arrived at our scuba diving destination. It started badly. Our mate Indi missed the step off the jetti and crashed straight into the water. This greatly amused me - but my laughter was not to last. Anyway, we go through a quick safety briefing and the Aussie instructor tells us that the most likely problem we'll encounter is water getting in your goggles. If this happens, tap the bottom of your goggles with you palm and breath out of your nose to flush the water out. Sounds simple.
   
   Into the water we went - and I honestly loved it. For about 5 minutes I was in the sea, I could breath, my eyes were open and the views were spectacular. Then water began to seep into my goggles. Not to worry I thought, I'd listened to the briefing, I know how to sort this minor problem... 

   

   Had Bordy not lost the frisbee perhaps
   I would never have ventured out to sea.

   
   
   I pressed my palm against the bottom of goggles and breathed out...through my mouth. My mouthpiece (you know, the really important bit that gives you oxygen) flew out of my mouth. I was then overcome with panic. I gasped for air, inhaling most of the ocean in the process and then completely forgot the other piece of information the instructor gave us. 'Paddle with your feet and you go up...paddle with your hands and you go down'. So of course I thrashed my arms around which resulted in me sinking further and further down. I started making the distress signal and I was fished out by the Aussie guy who rather embarrassingly towed me back to the boat. I remembered at the time thinking two things: one, I genuinely may die here and, two; why is my mate Naylor laughing so much.

Well, I guess my fear of the water stems further than wet socks in the changing rooms at Heath Town baths and swimming with the kids with the snotty noses.

Overcoming the fear

So - I had swimming lesson number three this morning. It was not good.

It feels a bit like when you learn to drive. You start thinking you've got the hang of it then you have two or three sessions where you do nothing but stall. Today I stalled.

Clive is being really patient with me which is a good job - because I'm at the stage where I'm getting frustrated with myself. It's a bit of a viscious cycle - the more frustrated I get, the more tense I become and the more likely I am to sink. I'm fine with the floats - but when they're taken away, for some unknown reason I forget the basics and I start to flap. It's all psychological so I know I have to overcome the fear. Clive can give me the basics around technique and breathing - but only I can overcome the fear. The one good thing to come out of it - I'm more determined than ever to do this. Ok - it may be harder than I had originally thought - but I won't let it beat me.

The Day The Music Died

I can't let the 3rd February pass without paying tribute to one of my oldest and bestest mates, Adam Shakespeare (nee Ward). Bordy - happy birthday mate - hope you have a great day. Thanks for the happy memories...

And finally, the reason I never forget Bordy's birthday every year. Of course, 3rd February 2013 marks the 54th anniversary of the day the music died. On a cold, wintery evening in Clear Lake, Iowa - rock 'n' roll lost one of its most talented pioneers. With no heating on their tour bus, Buddy Holly hired a small plane to fly the headliners onto their next gig. Well, the rest is history. He perished that fateful night alongside Ritchie Valens, J.P Richardson (The Big Bopper) and their pilot Roger Peterson. As Don McLean sung in his anthemic American Pie, it was the day the music died.

Fact of the day: Buddy had fish and chips at the chippy on Snow Hill in Wolverhampton, true.

Here's to you Buddy...