When the family moved permenantly to the South West, we stayed 'temporarily' in a little seaside town called Severn Beach. It was there that I learned to swim a little, (mostly just jumping in the shallows and splashing about)---It was a very rustic hotch potch of a place called optomistically--'The Blue Lagoon', because it was painted all over in that colour. It had a decent diving board system for it's size, but the water was right out of the Bristol Channel, cold, salty as hell, and poorly filted. BUT--1955 was a beautiful summer, so it was like we were on perpetual holiday, and loving it. Regrettably ( with hindsight) we didn't get any schooling for 6 months. My first (short) romance started in that pool. Her name was Isobel, we were both 13, she was on holiday with her family, from Wolverhampton. We both had problems understanding the local accents, and she told me--'Don't ever lose YOUR accent will you ! I had been trying my hardest to impress her in ---of all places, the swimming pool, but it ended in embarrassment when she shot past me like she was motorised. She later told me she was the area junior champion for the crawl, back in her home town. Life can be cruel.