As November rolls on the weather is heating up here in Newcastle. We are entering that small window of time where pool-owners feel very smug. Please don’t hate us for our arrogance. We have battled to create these few weeks of summer bliss for ourselves. Each season we endure fifty-nine trips to the pool shop, thirty-two backbreaking retrievals of water samples to test, sixty-eight hose-outs of the clogged filter basket and seven hundred and ninety-six scoopings of leaves. This is just the day-to-day maintenance.

This year our old filter sprung a leak and of course we didn’t get around to replacing it until spring had arrived and the kids were moaning for a swim. The replacement filter was a new design – slightly higher than the old one. We had to adjust the existing pipes to fit – a job requiring manual dexterity, several trips to Bunnings, long forgotten sixth grade mathematics and a choice selection of words from the “F” section of the dictionary.

Of course once the new filter was up and running, the weather turned cold and miserable for several weeks. Once October took hold, we attempted to clean the pool that had not been cleaned since the old filter packed it in back in March. My husband (remember Scooby Doo?) was concerned about a subterranean gurgling that only he could hear. Luckily my man can dig a hole with a Dale Kerrigan-like zeal, and a leaky pipe was soon discovered and (after another trip to Bunnings) patched.  We cleaned and readied the pool for the onslaught of the heat.

So last week the kids swam. And swam.  And swam. Then we thought we should probably get the water properly tested by the professionals. Apparently we’re lucky that the kids still have their eyebrows and haven’t grown scales. Two hundred dollars later, we had a speed lab of chemicals in our shed and a list of processes that would make a Masterchef contestant cry. We were not fazed. We were ready to be smug. Step one – add chlorine. Within minutes the water took on a greenish tinge. The instructions say to wait an hour. We waited. The water that was swimmable two days ago was now the colour of Mountain Dew. A call to the Pool Guy only got us the words you never want to hear from a diagnostician: “Hmmm, that’s strange”. NOOOOOOOOO!

Fortunately, we decided to take two aspirins and call him in the morning, if our pain persisted. Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, and our pool was bluer than blue.  So now we can start updating our Facebook status with “enjoying a few cold ones in the pool”. At work my husband will be able to talk about how refreshing it is to have a quick dip before breakfast.  The kids’ popularity rating at school will soar. I am smug at last.