Was I once a mermaid?

I recently posted on social media my latest cold-water dips in Coniston Water in the glorious Lake District.
 
I’ve become gradually more immobile and overweight for over a year because of arthritic feet and ankles and a frozen shoulder. But yesterday, for 30 minutes, I was pain-free. So, I had some lunch and did it again.
 
I also felt slightly sad as the last place Beatrix swam and played in the water was Coniston Water. One of the final chapters in Beatrix’s book is One Last Swim in Coniston. I like to think she looked down on me and said, as she always did, “Go on, Mum, you can do it. I’m proud of you.”

I met with myself today at The Hubb in Bishopbriggs (the other person didn’t show up!). With my latte and strawberry tart, I discussed the chances of me ever achieving my impossible dream of cycling from Kirkintilloch to Halifax. I debated whether I was a cyclist, a walker, or a swimmer, and my conscience suggested that perhaps I was once a mermaid. With sore feet, ankles, and shoulders, the idea of being a mermaid was even more appealing than my fresh cream delight. A mermaid I would become until my feet, ankles and shoulders allow me to continue to fight to achieve my impossible dream.
 
Finishing the strawberry tart - discreetly licking the last crumbs off the plate - I thought I’d make my next blog about my love of swimming.
 
Learning to Swim
 
Many people tell tales of how they had been scared of the swimming pools and the horrible lessons they had to endure before they could finally manage a doggy paddle across the width of the small pool. Not me. How did I learn to swim? On my first visit to a pool at age five or six, my older sister received praise for doing somersaults into the water.
 
“Look, Debra. You can’t even do a somersault on the floor, and you can’t swim, so you’ll never be able to somersault into the water,” she gloated.
 
At that moment, I first learned to perform a somersault into the swimming pool’s deep end. The second, more important thing I quickly learned to do simultaneously was to swim. Yes, that’s how it happened to me. One minute I’d never been in a swimming pool; the next, I could swim.
 
I’m of an age when infant and junior school meant a weekly visit to the small local pool, Moorside. This pool has probably been demolished, filled in, turned into apartment blocks, or serves speciality gins. I loved swimming, and the headteacher recommended my mum enrol me into the local swimming club as I showed outstanding talent. I thought that would be perfect because my boyfriend had already joined this swimming club. Yes, I had a boyfriend at infant and junior school; Terry White was his name. I knew he was my boyfriend because I shared my Kop Kopp sweets with him. If you don’t know what a Kop Kopp is, look it up and find where to get hold of some. They are to die for! I also knew that I was Terry’s girlfriend all those years ago because he would let me play goalie at playtime in football matches.
 
I still don’t like football!
 
But my mum enrolled me in the Halifax Swimming Club, and I had fantastic times swimming for fun, training and competing. My favourite stroke was the front crawl, followed closely by breaststroke. I could do a not-too-badly performed butterfly, but I was never keen on backstroke.
 
However, coming from a poor Yorkshire family (you can weep appropriately here now if you wish), there was no car and limited spare funds. So even if my mum could pay for some lessons, I couldn’t attend as many as other members who had more pennies and a car. As much as I tried, my natural ability to swim was never quite enough to keep up with my team members. Including, I have to point out here, my boyfriend.
 
Leaving Abbey Park Junior and Infants School, I passed my eleven-plus exam and enrolled in the Princess Mary Grammar School in Halifax. To my utter joy, this school (an all-girls school) had a terrific record for sporting achievements in athletics, netball, hockey, and swimming. I was beside myself. Being forced to wear a pleated skirt and navy gabardine was worth it for the sporting activities I could try in my time there.
 
Down the road from the school was Park Lane swimming pool, and I would have swimming lessons once, possibly twice a week at this pool. Park Lane was the same pool I had been swimming at with the Halifax Swimming Club. What a coincidence. It felt like I was swimming in a pool that I knew like the back of my hand.
 
Over the next few years, I completed all the swimming awards I could, including the bronze, silver, gold, and honours life-saving courses. I raced in different competitions and even represented Calderdale on one occasion.
 
My out-of-school swimming suddenly improved when a new girl arrived at Princess Mary’s. By this time, most girls there had become gang members and had many friends. My friends were my spiked running shoes, football boots (for playing hockey, not football!), and swimming costume. This new girl became my best friend and still is. Karen even has a cake named after her in my book, Karen’s Chocolate Fudge Cake.
 
Anyway, Karen loved all the sports I loved, including swimming. We quickly got into the habit of walking into Halifax after school to the Halifax Swimming Pool, perhaps two or three times a week. We swam. Just swam. No talking or playing about in the water, no racing, no competing against each other; we just swam together, enjoying each other’s company and support in a hobby we both loved.
 
Swimming has remained a huge part of my life. I’m pleased to say that I taught my children, Benjamin, and Chloe, to swim as young children, and they are both talented swimmers.
 
Benjamin took swimming to a new level when he began wild swimming, including the Great North Swim across Windermere. I was so proud of him for doing this, but I didn’t feel brave enough to swim in open water.
 
I have to tell you about my fear of water. Yes, fear. Although I am a strong swimmer, I have two fears in the swimming pool. First, I panic if I swim over the vent at the bottom of the pool. Please don’t ask me why because there is no logical reason for this, and nothing has ever happened to give me this fear. I force myself to swim over the vent, but I still feel myself taking that extra sharp breath. My second fear is when the swimming pool is dead still, and the water has no ripples. Again, this is an irrational fear. In my competing years, I had nightmares about being on the starting block and the pool dead still. I would have to wait until my competitors had dived into the pool ahead of me to ripple the water for me. No, that never happened, but the fear was real.
 
Over the years, I have listened to Benjamin’s tales of his wild swimming and seen his amazing photos of places he’s visited.
 
A couple of years ago, Benjamin finally persuaded me to pluck up the courage to take a dip in Grasmere Water in the Lake District. I took a little time to get into the water and thought I would freeze to death. But, once I had taken that last step to be deep enough to swim, I was away. It was amazing. It’s true that once you’re in the water, you stop feeling the cold (almost). I must admit to having a little tear at the liberating sense of freedom swimming and relaxing in such clear water. Oddly, I loved seeing the bottom of the lake as I swam and had no fear of this. Maybe it was because I knew there would be no vents!
 
As I swam around, I watched in awe at the surrounding scenery, seeing it from a different view from in the water. Looking up at The Lion and The Lamb (Helm Cragg), I thought of William Wordsworth and his description of Grasmere as “the loveliest spot that man hath ever found”. Indeed, it is.
 
Since that first dip, I’ve ventured into Rydal Water, Coniston Water, and Derwent Water. I’ve swum in a couple of rivers in Scotland, the sea on the west coast of Scotland and the sea at Filey in Yorkshire. 
 
Beatrix didn’t believe I was a strong swimmer because she would often get into a bit of a panic and try to save me. I suppose she knew I was accident prone and clumsy, didn’t she? 
 
Then, unbeknown to me, my best friend Karen, now living near the Yorkshire Dales, had also taken up cold water swimming. On one of my trips down to see her last year, she took me to swim in the River Wharfe. Boy, that was cold. But how amazing it was to swim with my old pal and still share the same hobby.
 
Over the last 12 months, I’ve struggled with my fitness and have put on lots of weight. But last week, we had seven days in the Lake District, where it was just too hot not to swim in the clear waters. I invested in swimming socks and some hard-soled shoes. Using my walking pole to steady me, once I could feel the support of the water around me, I tossed the pole to the shore, and away I went.
 
The pains, aches, stresses, and worries all left me for the time I was back in the water. I repeated this to swim in Grasmere again, and it amazed me how I could see the fish swimming alongside me. No fear of vents here.

   

Florence, our new Border Collie, hasn't found her swimming legs yet, so she just watched, wondering what on earth Mummy was doing.

Tomorrow will see me heading down to my leisure centre in Kirkintilloch and getting a membership for the gym and the swimming pool. The gym will help to build up some strength in my bones, but the swimming pool, well, that might save my sanity.
 
So, say hello if anyone sees a mermaid swimming in the Kirky pool over the coming months. Just don’t expect me to stand at the side of the pool chatting.

If you enjoyed reading about my adventures, why not look at my two books, The Magical Tearoom on the Hill and Beatrix The Time Travelling Collie?

You might even want to come along to my book launches. There’s an in-person event and on-line for those not near Kirkintilloch.

As always, I hope you've enjoyed my blog.

Debra x

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