Humans are a tropical species. We have lived in warm climates for most of our evolutionary history, which might explain why so many of us spend winter huddled under a blanket, clutching a hot water bottle, and dreaming of summer. I spend the winter in the 34-degree warm-water pool in the Batemans Bay Aquatic Centre where I meet lots of other people with their clothes off.
There's something disarmingly equalising about a man (or woman) with their clothes off. He may live in a million-dollar house (well, everyone does these days, don't they?), drive a hundred-thousand-dollar SUV, and wear a five-hundred dollar pair of handmade shoes, but in the pool he looks just like me, dressed in a two-dollar pair of togs from Vinnies.
And there's none of this eye-contact-avoiding behaviour you may see in the street (although it's almost impossible in the Bay not to bump into people you already know) as we all seem to have taken off not just our clothes but also shed our social inhibitions. And while I am in there to avoid the winter chills, many others are trying to alleviate chronic aches and post-operative pains, and talking about them seems to be part of their therapy. I could sit for a doctorate and pass with flying colours with all the medical knowledge I have gained in the warm-water pool.
While I only sport a recently acquired upper dental plate, the rest of them have metal plates in their backs, metal rods in their legs, screws in their joints, and plastic hips and knees, all of which seem to require constant repair and replacement --- and certainly constant discussion. By the time we reach the dozens of pharmaceutical prescriptions that usually accompany these surgical interventions, I feel like the odd man out with my one cholesterol-lowering pill a day. Where did I go wrong?
