Emblazoned glory

I apologise for the lack of posts, I seem to have blinked and missed three months. Are you still there? Ah, brilliant. Nice to see you. Are you well? Splendid. Now before we move on can we please make sure that all cans of worms are securely fastened. With that sorted, let’s talk about disabled people…

Apart from the parking, there aren't many benefits to being disabled. It is possibly for this reason that so many people (though inevitably not enough) put themselves out to provide disabled people with the opportunity (the kind of opportunity that able-bodied people take for granted) to take part in leisure activities such as swimming. But when you have set up a group that does this sort of thing, how do you decide on the name?

There are some groups where it is fairly transparent why they have chosen to name their club in the way they did. A swimming club composed of thalidomide victims called ‘Flippers’ for instance. Now I’m not saying they would sell many promotional t-shirts (or indeed armbands) and I’m not saying that it would be morally sound to call their group such, but at least you could understand how they arrived at the name. The same cannot be said for the bus that was unloading its passengers when I left my local leisure centre last evening.




As you can see, “Seahorses” it reads along the side of the bus, “Swimming for the less able”. By the euphemistic ‘less able’ of course, it meant ‘disabled’. I’ve no problem with the suggestion the group are simply less able, but this was quite clearly for disabled people. There were no people standing around who simply couldn’t swim very well. I’m pretty sure that they might not even qualify for membership but it’s tempting to apply to find out for sure. Like going up to an AA man with ‘join us here’ on the side of his van and when he asks what car you drive you say ‘Drive? My dear fellow, I don’t drive. I walk everywhere’ and watch your time-wasting cause a layer of their dignity to peel from their soul and flap away on the autumnal breeze.

Also, it didn’t appear to be for the entire disabled spectrum. For example, there wasn’t a man with one arm stood next to them who qualifies as less able because he can’t swim in a straight line. There was just a steady stream of wheelchair users being lowered carefully out of the minibus and parked up by the side of the leisure centre like the household cavalry on a day out. They had to be lowered carefully because if they injured one they would be even less able to swim and would have to join a swimming club called 'Stones'.

But why ‘Seahorses’? Why should a seahorse’s swimming ability be besmirched in such a way? If they wheeled themselves around the ocean bed grumbling about the lack of ramps I could understand it. If crabs were heard complaining about seahorses getting to park close to the coral it would be a different story. But they don’t. And they don't. They float through the water with an ethereal grace. They don't totter around the reef like aquatic cranefly. If it's a size thing and the club's members are simply learning to swim why not name the club after something that is more obviously in a stage of development? I for instance learned at a club called ‘Tadpoles’. And yes, I have subsequently grown into a toad.

I feel that the best course of action when naming a group of (euphemism alert) less able people you should opt for something that is relevant but not demeaning. Maybe even empowering. Actually, if it was good enough I’d probably take a hammer to my spine just to qualify. Just so that I can say “My name is Ben, and I swim with ‘Ironsides swimming club’”.