From Swimming Log to Writing Log

Photo of swimming sqaud at Palmerston North Municipal Baths in the early 1960s. Val Mills

Time passes quickly when you're having fun, and so my presence here has been neglected. A lot of research and writing ground has been covered in the four or five months I've been absent, but the time has come to include this blog as part of my regular writing process. It's all about becoming more organised and consistent.

You see, I'm now only one year away from when I want the first draft of 'Down at the Baths' to be completed. I have books filled with notes, lists of people still to interview, and of practical things that need to be attended to. But, everything is going to plan and I seem to be on schedule.

In reflecting on my success as a swimmer I have fond memories of the little pink log book in which we set our goals, recorded our daily training and reflected on our successes. I'm sure that book was instrumental in developing my strong competitive nature.

And so, success in one area needs to be transferred into other areas. It's back to a log book, this time to plot my research and writing progress. It's all set up and ready to go, with a weekly blog post included in the plans.

There's weekly goals, a daily diary of achievements, notes to myself and space for reflection at the end of each week. Now, it's full steam ahead, one year to cross the first finish line toward the completed project. Wish me well.

The First Time

I first came into contact with the old baths in Ashley Street when Mum and I went to watch cousins Victor and John swimming in the Manawatu champs, probably early 1960. Of John I remember very little, but I remember watching Victor in a breaststroke race.

Mum and I sat in the midst of the crowd on the long wooden seating above the dressing sheds, looking down on the pool below. The water, divided on the surface by black lane ropes, sparkled under the bright lights. The sky above was dark and clear enough to see the stars. Up there on the seats I felt drawn to both the black above and the blue below.

Apart from the school swimming sports, I'd never been to watch swimming races before. Being a spectator didn't suit me. I wanted to be down there with the competitors, diving into the water, part of the action.

That night, my first time at the Municipal Baths, a swimmer was born.