2670. The dangerous lake

Well! I had been sent by my editor to the lake to get a few photos. The lake was a popular swimming place but known for drownings. Hardly a year had gone by when there hadn’t been at least one drowning. The magazine was going to publish an article highlighting the dangers of swimming in the lake. Hence the need for a few photos.

When I arrived at the lake there were half a dozen people swimming about. In fact they were playing with a beach ball, tossing it one to another and judging from what I saw I deduced that the aim was to steal the beach ball off the opposition.

One of the contributing factors to the drownings is the weed. There is thick water weed growing on the lake floor and occasionally someone’s foot gets tangled in the weed and they can’t emerge.

And then a miracle happened! This woman – I suppose she was about twenty – got caught in the weed. She was jumping up and waving and gasping for air. She was going under and remerging and flaying about like an octopus. At first I thought she must have been bitten by a fish or something. Then all went still. Her beach ball friends were stunned into silence, and she sort of floated and went under. Floated and went under several times.

I managed to capture it all. My editor is going to be thrilled.

2173. The flooded stream

It was such a shock when Granny slipped on a rock while trying to cross a flooded stream. She drowned. And the funeral was sad, sad, sad.

Eion, being one of only two parentless grandchildren, thought he might have got something from the will, but Cousin Marvin got the farm and everything else. Oh well! That’s life!

It was such a shock when Cousin Marvin slipped on a rock while trying to cross a flooded stream. He drowned. And the funeral was sad, sad, sad.

(Footnote: WordPress has said that this is the 8th anniversary of this blog. The United States has declared a public holiday in honour of the occasion).

1999. Rich kids

Roman was one of those rich, spoiled, has-everything young men who at age twenty-three lived in his mansion with a swimming pool and drove a sports car around for no reason other than to impress.

His bed was gigantic and with the push of a button the ceiling would open and expose the night sky. Enough is enough in this description; imagine a luxury and it was his.

All his wealth came from his squandering parents. Who needs an education when you’ve got money? Who needs a job when you’ve got money? Indolence was Roman’s middle name. He didn’t like his parents much. In fact, they were a bit of a nuisance at times.

The problem was that Roman was prone to boredom. On his own bat he created and built the most extravagant out door bar around his swimming pool. To be fair, it was genuinely impressive. Every type of glass, every type of bottle, every type of olive and orange zest, was on display. Such extravagance was instantly marvelled at the minute a visitor pulled into the driveway. What use are riches if they can’t be seen?

One day Roman met Yelena. She was from a rich family too, so sumptuousness wasn’t a novelty for her. She was just the right sort of woman for Roman. And he kind of liked her. He picked her up on the first date in his cacky-yellow Lamborghini. (Many rich people have no idea of class).

After three dates they were inseparable. After four dates, wonder of wonders! Roman let Yelena drive his Lamborghini. Not fast of course, but tentatively and with prudence. If she wanted speed, he would have to drive.

What excitement! Yelena drove twice around the block with Roman as a passenger. She pulled into the driveway. Roman patted her on the knee and her foot slipped. The car rushed forward at a tumultuous speed (2.9 seconds from zero to 100 kph) and smashed Roman’s personally made bar to smithereens, landing the Lamborghini in the swimming pool.

Imagine the rage! Imagine the disbelief! Imagine the cursing (no don’t)! Imagine trying to resurrect a relationship after that! But they didn’t have to try to resurrect a thing; they both drowned.

1996. Poolside accident

To all intents and purposes, said Detective-Sergeant Noseworthy, this swimming pool drowning looks like an accident. An accident? An accident indeed! Ha! Ha! Ha! What some people believe!

Sherry clearly was pushed in and held under. That’s my suspicion. To say she slipped on the swimming pool steps, hit her head on the edge, and subsequently drowned, could be construed as a cover-up.

I have interviewed eleven people at the poolside barbeque and not a single one saw what happened. Yeah right! They were at a poolside barbeque and no one was at the poolside. They were all inside the house getting their plate and knife and fork, leaving Sherry to go for a swim on her lonesome. I find all that hard to believe.

Still, if that’s what the coroner said, then that’s what the coroner said. I’m happy to leave it at that. I can’t say I’m not pleased that Sherry didn’t drown. She was a regal pain in the proverbial and I should never have married her. It was very nice of Candy and Mervyn Parsonage to invite us to their poolside barbeque, but Sherry and I had a huge argument in the car on the way there. She had been obstreperous like that for several months.

I was late going into the house to get my plate and knife and fork, and when I came out the others were already hauling her body out of the pool.

1940. How a little lake could hold such joy

There’s a little lake at the back of my property. It’s surrounded by trees. Sometimes I think I must be the only person who knows the lake exists. I’ve never seen anyone there, and it doesn’t appear to be on any map I’ve seen. Mind you, it’s not a big lake.

That lake gives me a lot of pleasure. In fact I have a green plastic chair I leave down there and often I’ll sit for a quiet, reflective time. Sometimes there are a few wild ducks swimming about. Twice now I’ve seen a couple of blue herons fossicking in the shallows. But it’s the stillness of the lake that fills me with the greatest joy.

I’ve had this property for about forty years; about thirty of those I suppose I’ve been going to the lake on a regular basis. Goodness! Thirty years since my wife died! I didn’t go to the lake hardly at all before that.

I still can’t believe how placid and calming that little lake is these days. Contrast that with the tumultuous clamour my wife made when I threw her in with concrete blocks tied to her knees. She was flaying about like an octopus caught in a net. Such a hullabaloo! Such a racket!

Yes indeed. I never knew before then how a little lake could hold such joy.

1853. Goldfish pond murder

The murder had been a long time in coming, but it was well worth the wait. Dale’s third wife, Damaris, had tragically drowned. One minute she was sitting in a wheelchair in the sunshine reading Margaret Mitchell’s novel Gone with the Wind and the next minute she herself was gone – floating dead in the garden goldfish pond, wheelchair and all.

Husband Dale was distraught. “I never knew wheelchairs could float,” he gasped at the policeman. People in morning sometimes say the silliest things. Later he added something about “fortunately she didn’t get the book wet.”

It must be stated clearly from the beginning that Damaris didn’t need to sit in the wheelchair. She was perfectly well in all respects. Her visiting sister, Brierley, was using the chair because she had sprained an ankle while messing around with Dale in the garden. Brierley had gone inside the house “to have a rest and put her foot up” and Damaris was sitting in the wheelchair because it was convenient and she liked to watch the fish. Suddenly the unbraked wheelchair went whizzing into the goldfish pond, and although Damaris was a reasonable swimmer she couldn’t untangle herself from the chair.

The deed was done! It was a tragic accident. As soon as they can dry the wheelchair Brierley will be making a fast entrance down the aisle of the nearest church. Let’s hope Dale doesn’t try any funny business with his latest wife. After all, Brierley has secret, perhaps handy, photographs of Dale holding Damaris under water.

1513: Prone to tragedy

It’s such a shame. They were such a lovely couple. They were so down-to-earth – which is unusual for filthy rich personages.

To think how full of promise their lives had become! They had recently moved into their brand-new multimillion dollar mansion. It suited them down to the ground. It had a games room – or should I say “rooms”? The covered heated swimming pool was a delight. The tennis courts attracted so many genuine friends. The kitchen (Jacinta jokingly referred to it as a “my humble kitchenette”!) was big enough for Rufus, their world-class chef. In fact, Rufus had been with the household for years, ever since he was hired by Archibald’s first wife many years ago. Archibald joked that Rufus was the only real jewel in the family fortune.

And then last Thursday Jacinta’s body was found floating in the tropical aquarium. Archibald was devastated. How could she have drowned? He had suggested to her dozens of times not to overfeed the African banded barbs (Barbus fasciolatus). She wouldn’t listen. Fate had clearly decreed that she should drown in the fish tank because of her over-feeding fixation. How she fell in was anyone’s guess.

Some people are prone to tragedy. That is certainly the case with Archibald. Jacinta was his fourth wife to have inadvertently drowned in a tropical aquarium. Jacinta was the brightest star in my firmament of life, said Archibald. Rufus was more matter-of-fact: That’s the last time she’ll criticise my Caraway Crusted Pork Loin with Stewed Cabbage and Sautéed Apples.

1494. Punting on the river

Fintan knew the time had come for him to propose marriage to Angela. What was holding him up? He wanted to propose creatively. He wanted it to be memorable. He wanted it to be both romantic and different.

He suggested to Angela that they hire a punt on the river. The river was deep and slow and picturesque. They would take a picnic lunch and pull over to the side, perhaps under a weeping willow. And then either before or after lunch, when all seemed most idyllic, he would propose. Of course, Fintan made a few trial runs in a hired punt secretly. He wanted to know how best to guide the boat, and best where to go.

It was a beautiful summer’s day. Birds sang. A fish jumped up out of the water just as their punt passed by. It was as if it was dancing for the joy of the occasion. A mother duck protected her batch of newly hatched ducklings. How wonderful! At one stage, quite by accident, some sad, winsome, romantic oboe music wafted from a manor beyond the expansive lawn on the river bank. This would be the moment, the perfect moment to propose.

Fintan went down on one knee. “Angela,” he said, “will you marry me?” Fintan’s change in posture unbalanced the punt. Angela didn’t even have time to say “Yes!” before the boat toppled over and they drowned.

794. To the rescue

Milton was going for a relaxing stroll along the wharf. It was Thursday. He had an hour off for lunch. He’d had a fairly intense meeting all morning. Some of those little upstarts working in the office could be difficult to manage at times, especially being a law office. They were intelligent but quite, quite full of themselves. Some of them thought because they’d once read a book they had an infinite knowledge of law.

So it was nice to stroll along the wharf in the sunshine and breathe a little fresh sea air. Suddenly…

“Help! Help!” There was a person in the water. They had fallen off the wharf. They were drowning.

“Quick!” shouted Milton to a couple of passers-by. “Quick! There’s a person drowning!”

A young chap dived into the sea water and rescued the drowning lady. Why! The young chap was one of those troublesome young know-all lawyers from his office.

Milton would’ve jumped in and saved the woman himself, but he was wearing his best Italian-made shoes.

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