Here in the seaside village, we have people of all callings.
We have butchers, bakers, candlestick makers.
We have panelbeaters, librarians and sailors.
We have novelists, poets and the guy who wrote Six Months in A Leaky Boat.
And of course, we have executives.
It is, you assume, for such people—our executives, living in all the lovely homes near all the lovely beaches—that the ute whose doors bear the logo Executive Pools is kept so busy.
I have written about that name here before, wondering if perhaps an executive pool might be some special breed of swimming pool that can’t come to the phone right now because it's in a meeting.
