A Long Time Ago in Paradise
People's definitions of Paradise vary. One of mine is this pool.
This is the pool at Park Hotel in Tenby, seen from the third floor of the hotel a couple of weeks ago.
It's not huge, nothing special really: but I've spent so many happy hours there over the past forty-something years. I just love swimming. Preferably in the sea, with just-enough-of-a-challenge waves - - but, failing that, an open-air pool, preferably this one, situated at the top of the cliff with blue skies and the smell of the sea.
And now, in my Time Machine, back to the summer of 1966, and here's the pool as it was then:
It's the same in essence, though rather posher now. The woman sitting with her back to the camera is my mother and she is holding my baby brother Michael. I took the photo, of course. I'll come back to the man at the far side, by the fence, in a moment.
Here they are again, in the pool: the Communist, my mother in the then-obligatory swimming cap, and my brother.
My mother and my brother:
Of course, these photos were taken by the nine-year-old me (or maybe the ten-year-old me - I had my tenth birthday that holiday).
Let's come back to the man leaning on the fence: here's a close-up:
He was the hotel's swimming teacher: one of the best teachers I ever had, because he gave everyone tremendous confidence in their swimming ability, made everything fun, and took your stroke to pieces and put it back together much, much better.
I have told you this before, but, in case you didn't read it, or don't remember, or simply didn't believe me, I think I should tell you that his name was Ivor Fish.
This is the pool at Park Hotel in Tenby, seen from the third floor of the hotel a couple of weeks ago.
It's not huge, nothing special really: but I've spent so many happy hours there over the past forty-something years. I just love swimming. Preferably in the sea, with just-enough-of-a-challenge waves - - but, failing that, an open-air pool, preferably this one, situated at the top of the cliff with blue skies and the smell of the sea.
And now, in my Time Machine, back to the summer of 1966, and here's the pool as it was then:
It's the same in essence, though rather posher now. The woman sitting with her back to the camera is my mother and she is holding my baby brother Michael. I took the photo, of course. I'll come back to the man at the far side, by the fence, in a moment.Here they are again, in the pool: the Communist, my mother in the then-obligatory swimming cap, and my brother.
My mother and my brother:
Of course, these photos were taken by the nine-year-old me (or maybe the ten-year-old me - I had my tenth birthday that holiday).Let's come back to the man leaning on the fence: here's a close-up:
He was the hotel's swimming teacher: one of the best teachers I ever had, because he gave everyone tremendous confidence in their swimming ability, made everything fun, and took your stroke to pieces and put it back together much, much better.I have told you this before, but, in case you didn't read it, or don't remember, or simply didn't believe me, I think I should tell you that his name was Ivor Fish.
posted by Daphne at 9:53 pm
3 Comments:
I don't believe you.
I know you tell me it's true but honestly... Ivor Fish and he was a swimming instructor. Mind you I suppose he could have been a fishmonger.
I think if you have a surname which is a noun you should avoid the first name Ivor when considering what to call your son. I used to know someone called Ivor Field. Unfortunately he wasn't a farmer but a photographer. He was very good. Obviously knew his field of vision.
Well I've a fish too! It's a mackerel! Ah swimming caps! I remember when I went with primary school to Beverley baths, every child had to wear a swimming cap -even the boys. Either we were all very dirty buggers back then or the guardians of public hygiene were all a bunch of prudish and unscientific methodist nutters!
Ivor Fish - reminds me of the silly jokes about book titles we used to tell at primary school - Rusty Bedsprings by I. P. Knightly etc etc.
I did hear one about fish lately though - Having relatives to stay are like fish, they go off after three days - please don't my motherinlaw I said that.
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