We've started swimming lessons. And it's kind of like Nancy's got a posh personal trainer, as it's only me and Nancy and another mum and her daughter on the course.
Well, poshish. If you ignore the rank drains smell the moment you walk through the front door of the leisure centre. And the fact the receptionist won't let you into the changing rooms with a pram until 10 minutes before the lesson starts. 10 minutes? Does she know how long it takes to get a pair of tiny waterproof pants on a baby?
Nancy was sent a pair of swimming trunks from our friend in Spain. The Spanish obviously know more about aqua style, as they're comfy and have lovely fish on them. Worlds away from the several costumes we've acquired that are all frills and inappropriate slogans, some of them, borderline slaggy, if that's possible with 6-9 month old clothes.
Nancy now goes nuts when you get into the pool. Kicking her legs really fast, and lapping up the pool water like a little dog.
It's a bit of a double edged sword really, there only being the four of us in the class. Because on one hand, Wendy, the teacher, started off knowing all our names instead of just the children's as she said she normally does. Which was nice.
But on the flip side, I do spend the last half of the lesson singing nursery rhymes at a woman I don't really know.
I thought during the first week it was because there had been a mix up.
The reception desk had told me initially the course was full, and it was only after some 'can I speak to the manager' chat, which, incidentally, I'm getting very good at these days, that it turned out it wasn't, so I could sign up. That would explain why there was only two babies on the course.
So of course Wendy didn't have a back up lesson plan.
With 15 minutes still to go, she asked me and the other mum to face each other, clutching our babies in front of us, and sing Ring a Ring of Roses. She explained that with the usual 12 people on the course, the mums would walk round in a circle, but not to bother as it was only us two.
Wendy also said she wasn't much of a singer, so she started us off, then sat down a plastic chair and left us to it. Fair enough.
But come lesson two, Wendy had us serenade each other with the Grand Old Duke of York, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, If You're Happy and You Know It, and Zoom Zoom. Which isn't even a proper song. Wendy had made it up herself.
And she wanted us to sing them to each other, Scott and Charlene style.
And worse still, I can't remember the woman's name. And Wendy's long forgotten what we're all called, despite her promises on week one, but Other Mum has remembered mine.
I wasnt sure whether to call her 'mate' which seems a bit aggressive, or 'love' which seems a bit flirtatious, given that I've just been dueting with her.
So I decided on making Nancy wave at her daughter and say goodbye to her, instead, which Other Mum now does back. It's just too cute for words. I imagine my alter ego sat off on one of the plastic chairs next to Wendy with a disapproving slow head shake, giving me the knob head sign.
And if Nancy could roll her eyes and tell me to get a grip, I'm sure she would.
In other news, I've nearly got enough Boots points from all the nappies I've been buying over the last seven months to get some Chanel perfume.
In the words of Alan Partridge; cash back.