Source A: The last length in the pool

An original speech written for this question.

When I was eight, I believed the deep end was a country with strict immigration rules. I would stand at the edge, toes curled over the blue tiles, waiting for my older brother to return from his expedition to the far lane. He came back every time, usually with water up his nose and a story about having nearly seen a shark. The shark was a flake of foam from the changing-room soap. We were not a family of explorers.

Years later, I took my own daughter to the town pool. She was nervous of putting her face under the water. The instructor asked her to blow bubbles; she produced one enormous bubble and then announced that she had completed the lesson. I recognised the strategy. At eight, I had spent a whole session perfecting my turn at the wall because it allowed me to avoid the deep end while appearing industrious.

These are small memories, and I do not offer them as proof that a swimming pool changes every life. I offer them because the pool gave us somewhere to begin. It was warm, ordinary and close enough to reach without planning a day around it. A child could be uncertain there without being hurried into confidence.

The council has to consider the figures, and it should. The pool needs repairs, and keeping it open costs money. But a decision made only by comparing this year’s bills with this year’s ticket income leaves out what the place makes possible. The lesson is not simply that people enjoy swimming. It is that a public facility can make a first attempt possible for people who have no pool at home and no easy alternative nearby.

At the consultation, one speaker suggested that families could travel to the leisure centre in the next town. This is a reasonable suggestion if you have a car, spare time and a child who is already happy to sit in a changing room for half an hour. My daughter once treated the changing-room bench as a diplomatic summit and refused to negotiate with her socks. The journey is not impossible; it is just another barrier for some families.

I know the pool cannot be kept open by affection alone. It may need a different timetable, or a different way of organising its use. I cannot say which solution will work without seeing the full costs. But uncertainty about the best answer is not the same as proof that closing it is the only answer.

When I think of that first lesson, I do not remember a dramatic transformation. I remember a child blowing bubbles, then trying again. The council should give the town’s pool the same chance: a careful look at the alternatives before deciding that its story is over.