When I found out that our local pool, in a culturally diverse borough of London, was to be closed, I swore, and then I cried. Swearing showed my sheer frustration with government cuts that meant councils were struggling to maintain such facilities; weeping because I couldn’t bear the thought of the pool being boarded up, drained and lost forever.
For me, swimming is a lifesaver, and not just in the obvious way. It enables me to deal with a health issue and it has helped me come to terms with a challenging upbringing. It even helped me keep my sense of humour when my fabulous mother-in-law stored food in the bath as her Alzheimer’s took hold.