Marilyn is the Lead
The best way for me to describe Marilyn at work would be to say:
imagine that Miss Trunchbull and Miss Honey had a black baby together - stay with me - because believe me you don't want to be a child on the wrong side of Marilyn. I've heard her shout and it ain't pretty. But on the flip side, her nice side is full of huge smiles, infectious laughter, tight hugs and warm praise. It's no wonder that the children idolise her.
Mini Olympics
Marilyn's
daughter is twenty now, so it must have been ten years ago. This
particular summer, Marilyn, her husband and daughter, along with
Marilyn's sister Angie, her husband and their nine year old son went
on holiday to Spain.
A
few days into the holiday, the Spanish measures had been flowing the
night before and in neighbouring rooms Marilyn and her sister woke
with killer hangovers only intensified by the sticky Spanish morning.
Neither in any state to get up before noon, the husbands took the kids down to the pool.
Ten
minutes later a knock came at Marilyn's door. Doing her best
to ignore it she rolled over and stuffed her head
under a pillow. The knocking was timid but was very
persistent - assuming it to be her husband coming back for something
- Marilyn delicately made her way to the door. Slowly opening the
painfully creaky door she found Angie beckoning her into their
room next door. "Can you hear that?"
Moving
- still very gingerly - across the hotel room towards the veranda Marilyn could now hear it too - a newly familiar voice blowing in
through the open window, from the poolside down below. (Londoner
trying to do a Spanish accent) "Marilyn and Angie we want you
for the Mini Olympics." A short pause... "If you don't come
down we'll have to come up for you.”
Begrudgingly
Marilyn and her sister decided that going down was marginally better
than being fetched and so slowly made their way to the poolside. The
'mini olympics' were about to start and Marilyn and Angie were about
to find out the full extent of what they were in for.
Seemingly
every adult in the hotel – including their husbands who were on the
opposing side – were divided into two giant relay teams. As the
race kicked off the splitting headache and desperate dehydration
really starting to kick in and Marilyn was struggling to just stand
up in the mid-afternoon sun.
With
the whole of the hotel looking on, first you had to run down the
length of the pool, stopping every couple of yards to put on
different item of clothing before jumping in the pool and using a
semi-inflated lilo to swim to the other side. Marilyn faded to the
back of the line but there was no hiding place.
Marilyn's
moment of glory had finally arrived. The two teams were neck and neck
with one team member left each. And they were off. Racing down the
poolside throwing the clothes on and... well at least the opposing
team were. Lets just say Marilyn took it at a slightly more gentle
pace.
The
sun sweating away the last few drops of moisture in her body, Marilyn
made her way to the first item of clothing – by which time the
person on the opposing team was already leaping into the pool –
spurned on by a cheering crowd Marilyn summoned as much energy as she could
and although her head and muscles were cheering in unison for her to
stop; she made it to the side of the pool. But now was not time
for heroics. The other team had long finished, all Marilyn could
do now was complete the course.
Slowly
lowering herself into the pool, Marilyn grabbed a hold of the deflated lilo
and pushed out into the centre of the pool. But by this time there was nothing left to give, her legs were
kicking but nothing was happening. Lots of splashing and flailing but no forward momentum.
The
sun, heavy cardio workout and most importantly the killer hangover
had done her in. Children
staring on from the poolside and husbands from the finish line, Marilyn continued to splash around in the middle of the pool, until, fearing for her safety, a tall dark Spanish holiday rep dove into the
water fully clothed – shoes and all – to save the "drowning" Marilyn.
Written by Anthony Hett