Big Blue Beehive or Smurf?

Having been a regular swimmer for well over five monthsnow, I find I have been accepted into the regular 7.30-8.30 swimming gang, and get to say 'Hello' to other members and pass the time of day. This also means I get to tut at people who are not regular 7.30-8.30 members who infiltrate our gang and hog valuable pool space, especially the rather large man who arrive this morning in bright yellow shorts and proceeded to plough up and down without regard for anyone else, fair freaking out poor Margaret by bearing down on her in a Titanic versus the iceberg kind of way.

'He should be over there,' shrieked Margaret after he'd mown her down for the umpteenth time and she waved at the far side of the pool that is roped off for fast lane swimming. We all sympathised and agreed and pumped the water from her lungs. There was an unspoken agreement that should this man reappear and continue his pool hogging ways we would rise up against him like a pod of dolphins, surrounding him and forcing him into the correct swimming area for those who water plough without regard. Ah yes, it's good to be part of a gang.

Anyway, one of the ladies in our gang arrived at the same time as me this morning and we walked through the car park together. Dot is probably well into her seventies, if not older and is a bit vague sometimes, but I bet she makes good jam.

I noticed she was wearing a top identical to one I have myself.
'I have a top identical to that,' I said.
'Do you?' said Dot. 'I bought it because of the flowers.'
'Me, too,' I said. 'I love clothes with flowers on.'
She leaned towards me, conspiratorially.
'Do you find your bosoms rise out of the neckline a little too far sometimes?' she asked.
'Yes, I do,' I said, because it is one of those tops that has a drawstring just under the bust line and if you reach up high, or lean forward, then bosoms can get marginally displaced and you have to do a bit of shovelling to get them back to where they should be.
'Ah, ' said my companion wistfully, 'but at least you youngsters can get away with it.'

I was in the pool first and had done a few lengths before Dot appeared. She was wearing a new swimming hat. It was quite the most magnificent swimming hat I have ever seen. Covered in bobbles, it was bright, bright blue and extended the height of her head by what seemed at least a foot.
'It looks like a Smurf hat,' I thought. And then I thought, 'Oh my goodness, what if she asks me what I think of her new hat? I'm thinking of Smurfs now. I don't want to blurt out that it makes her look like a Smurf. She might not even know what a Smurf is.'

I did a bit of quick thinking and decided that the hat also looked like a magnificent blue beehive, and if asked, that is what I would say. I swam up and down chanting 'Beehive, beehive, beehive,' to myself and trying to expunge all things Smurf-related from my mind.

After my swim I met Dot in the changing rooms.
'What do you think of my new swimming hat?' she asked, as she wrung out her cozzie and rubbed the bright, bright blue hat dry.
'It's like a magnificent blue beehive,' I said.

'Well, thank goodness for that,' said Dot. 'I thought it made me look like a Smurf.'