Yesterday I went with A. to photograph her weekly swimming lesson with Louisa’s* kids. A. limps when she walks because of an accident that I haven’t talked to her about yet, but in the water she is graceful, at ease and at home. And endlessly patient with the rambunctious Jay and Tilly. She gently coaxed them up and down the lanes, encouraging them when they lost confidence and flailed, gulping mouthfuls of the heavily chlorinated water. She even joined Tilly when she scrambled on tired legs for a celebratory ride on the water slide. Afterwards she gave them beautiful certificates she had made, covered with stickers and flowery writing, which they carried them home proudly. Jay asked me to take a photograph of him with his.

I loved watching her with the kids. And to be honest I forgot why I was photographing her most of the time. Yes, because there were slippery seal-pup bodies all around me, goggle eyed and gleefully dive-bombing, shouting, leaping and splashing, but mostly because it was such an unremarkable event. A woman teaching her friends children how to swim amidst the chaos of an afternoon at the pool. Which is remarkable in itself.

* Louisa is a support worker at St Kilda Gatehouse.