Anyway, this pool used to have a fading sign that baffled and intrigued me:

NO SKYLARKING.

No ... what? Skylarking? Never heard of it. Is a skylark a kind of dive? Or a game, like brandings? How will I know if I'm skylarking? Will somebody tap me on the shoulder to quietly inform me that I have accidentally skylarked? What if I don't mean to do a skylark but accidentally do one because I don't know what it is? Will they boot me out?

In the end I reached the conclusion that skylarking must have been something that teenagers used to do in the 1950s (it was a very old sign) that was simply no longer in vogue. A bit like the jive. Skylarking? Oh, father, please - that is SO pass�.

It is very possible that had I known the meaning of the word 'skylarking' at the time, I may have taken advantage of the lack of specifics exhibited in the signage. You cannot eject me from your suburban aquatic centre, sir, for I am not skylarking. Your sign says nothing of horseplay, tomfoolery or shenanigans.

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Things that made me happy this weekend:

- Getting near the end of Dante's Inferno. Sadly I think I have a lot of post-story debriefing ahead of me, even with my new-found guide.

- Starting a new book despite not having quite finished the last one yet. It is about young Stalin. It is aptly titled Young Stalin.

- Sitting in the living room late at night with Pigeon and simultaneously watching Take the Lead (in which Antonio Banderas makes it his mission to teach a bunch of hard-up Bronx kids how to TANGO their way to a BETTER LIFE) on one channel and Jaws II (in which a small town is terrorised by a rubber shark) on another.

- New episodes of QI, hurrah!

- Doctor Who on television this evening. I think my faith in free-to-air is being slowly restored. I never watched Doctor Who growing up - I was twelve before I'd even heard of it - but if I start saving up for some box sets I think we may have a fan in the making here.

- And there was red wine and camembert interspersed there as well: the boozy, cheesy, mildly unhygienic thread that stitches together the rich but slothful tapestry of my weekend.