Source A: The pool beneath the weeds

An original contemporary non-fiction-style practice text, written for this question.

The first time I saw the old outdoor pool, it was almost hidden by nettles. I had learned to swim there as a child, and I wanted the village to have somewhere like it again. At the first meeting, I spoke about summer evenings and the smell of wet stone. I did not mention the cracked changing rooms or the cost of clearing them. Those details seemed less likely to persuade anyone.

We began with a weekend of work. Volunteers filled bags with leaves and scrubbed the tiles. I thought that once people saw what could be done, the rest would follow. Instead, each new discovery seemed to make the task larger: a broken pipe, a gate that would not shut, a patch of concrete that shifted underfoot. The pool looked more inviting in photographs than it did in person.

At a meeting, a neighbour asked whether we were bringing back a pool or simply preserving a memory. I resented the question. Then I noticed how often I described the place as it had been, rather than explaining what it might become. We agreed to ask local families what they would use, and to share the costs before promising a reopening date.

The pool is still empty. We have repaired the gate and cleared one side, but there is no date for swimming. I used to think that an unfinished project was a failed one. Now the cleared strip along the edge of the pool looks like an honest beginning: small enough to inspect, and real enough for others to decide whether to join us.

Source B: What an empty pool can teach us

An original contemporary non-fiction-style practice text, written for this question.

The old pool has been called a neglected landmark, a safety problem and a chance to bring the village together. Each description tells part of the truth. None, by itself, is a plan.

I understand why residents want it back. A public pool is not just a place to swim; it can give families a shared space and young people somewhere to spend an afternoon. But affection is not a budget. The walls need attention, the changing rooms need work and the water system cannot be wished into order by a photograph of the pool in its best years.

The volunteers who have cleared the leaves deserve credit. Their work has made the site easier to see, and the repaired gate is a useful first step. Yet a ribbon-cutting date would be a poor reward if the repairs were rushed or the running costs were left unexplained. The promise of a quick revival could make careful questions sound like opposition.

I would rather see a public list of the work still required, followed by decisions made with the people who might use the pool. That is less thrilling than announcing a grand reopening. It is also a better way to find out whether this place can serve the village again, rather than simply stand for what it once was.