As I feed one sheet after another to the laminator, I run my eyes over the words. Our new ‘swimming pool manual’, which has been compiled by an officially recognized company, consists of no less than twenty-six pages. In addition to the specifications of our swimming pool and the pump, the manual for its maintenance and various provisions that must be taken according to the law, the penultimate page also contains various measures that are essential in preventing the contamination of the swimming pool water. It doesn’t surprise me that eight out of ten measures have to do with defecation. The inspector, who visited us for the first time last month, urged me to deny guests with intestinal problems access to the pool by means of the swimming pool rules.
When I told my mother about it, she replied in disgust: “You’re not going to write it down like that, are you?!” “What?”, I think to myself. “Please don’t shit in the pool!?” I can’t help but laugh a little. “I would spontaneously lose the desire to swim,” she concludes. But although (during my search on the internet for the swimming pool policy of various authorities) I didn’t find it in the majority of the examples, I ultimately found enough examples that did mention it in a certain sense. Some of them even had a picture of an urinating man with a large red line running through it. As I saw one sign after another passing by, I just thought: That seems obvious, doesn’t it? I therefore decided to not rub it in to much. “Do not urinate or defecate. (Children who are not yet toilet-trained only in swim diapers.)” Although we normally do not allow small children (with the exception of rentals to a large group of guests), this seems (at least to me) to be the best way to communicate this to our guests. Equipped with an image of a diaper and thus suggesting that adults could not possibly be guilty of this.
And so it happened. The rules have been on the board in three languages for a number of weeks now. A lot milder than the rules in our just printed manual. Allow children to go to the toilet before using the swimming pool and take regular breaks for toilet visits. Use diapers made specifically for the pool. Wash your hands after visiting the toilet. Check that there is no stool on the skin. Do not use the pool if you have diarrhea and wait at least two days to prevent contamination of the pool water. At least two weeks if you have been diagnosed with cryptosporidiosis. Now you may be thinking, “What?” Yeah, that’s what I thought too.
Anyway. Just something extra to worry about. Besides my sister Noëlle, who we now call the ‘glass police’ and immediately chases away anyone who dares to show themselves with glassware in or around the swimming pool, I would rather not apply for the position of ‘poo police’. I therefore hope that our guests will comply with the rules without complaining or grumbling. Not only with regard to the hygiene, but especially when it comes to safety. That no one would even think of jumping or (even worse:) diving into our small swimming pool, which is only 1.40 meters deep. But just to be sure, I clearly state it in the regulations. Children always under supervision. Don’t jump. No diving. And – because I didn’t like the overarching role of swimming pool police – use at your own risk. I hope that’s the end of it. So, after I have also perforated the last page and have almost completely exhausted my supply of laminating pouches, I close the folder with a snap. Satisfied, I tick another item off my list. Forget the role of glass, poop (more accurately “defecation”) or overarching swimming pool police. In contrast to these undoubtedly very attractive-sounding positions, my current role – as our one and only pencil pusher (armed with both stapler and hole punch) – is something I am made for. But perhaps my sister wouldn’t mind a promotion from glass to swimming pool police?