Confessions of a Free Range Prolapsed Catholic

I learnt to swim here. One of my dad’s earliest slides ( not print) was of me in a bubble fabric cotton “bather” ( we called them swimmers or togs). I had mastered the art of floating on my back on the ramp that was the entrance to the Olympic Pool. I was 6. Eyes clenched shut, assuming the float on your back position, the coach released her hand from the middle of my back and I was doing it! This skill mastered entitled me to learn how to swim freestyle in the ” big pool”. My older siblings were in the Swimming Club.

Sixty eight years later, it is still a place I love! The smell of the salt, the screech of the seagulls, the crashing of the waves when the weather is wild. All those take me right back!

Sadly, the place has been “updated” and at a time when my age is preventing me from a lot of things I could do, and civic authorities decided there should be “updates” I can no longer do – even walk in the water ( as opposed to walk on the water , to clarify) because the updates made the pool too deep.

It’s still a place I love. It’s a glorious place! I do find peace watching what I have watched all my life. Just can’t manage a walk or a swim.