paul worked at the local pool cleaning scum lines and pulling covers on and off the pool.

The George Town Swimming Centre was built on my neighbourhood cricket pitch in 1985-86. Not that we minded. The conversion of a less than level park into a swimming pool was a dream come true, both for displaced cricketers and the broader community, given a public pool had been lobbied for since the 1950s. For years the community raised funds and advocated to all levels of government for a fit-for-purpose pool. After all, the previous tidal pool was decommission decades before I was born, and sat deteriorating at the entrance to the Main Street for generations. It was eventually filled in, and now forms part of an attractive linear garden that follows the water way from up near the cemetery to York Cove.

I watched the new pool being built as I walked to and from school everyday of Grade 6. Massive earth moving equipment moved soil from the pool trenches to create a hill that act as wind breaks and seating for patrons.  I watched as intricate plumbing and form works was assembled, and I was late for school the day cement trucks arrived to pour the walls and floor of the pool.

The new pool officially opened in late 1986 and my parents purchased a season pass for the family as a Christmas present. I used it every day that summer, so much so that my hair turned blonde from the combination of chlorine and sun exposure. I couldn’t swim well, but I loved the water nevertheless and was often the last one out of an evening.

Owned and operated by the George Town Council, when the inaugural Pool Manager left in early 1988, the Council appointed Mrs Bell to the role. She had recently relocated to the town with a couple of families from Tasmania’s mining communities on the West Coast. She commissioned one of her friends sons to pull the pool covers on each evening. This friend of hers was the new boy in my class, and we eventually became friends, partly because of me hanging around so late at the pool. I would volunteer to help him with covers duty and sometimes get to stay in the water 15-20 minutes longer than anyone else.

When my friend didn’t show up for a few nights, Mrs B wrangled with the covers herself. It was really a two person job. The 25 m long covers were heavy and could catch the wind. If I was in the pool I would help push water onto the covers to keep them from becoming airborne. If I was out of the pool I would help push the roller to relieve some of the weight. Mrs B appreciated my assistance, and eventually offered the position to me, presumably given my omnipresence. I was offered a flat rate of $2.50 of an evening to complete the job- rain hail or shine. I accepted gladly. It was my first real part time job. I secured a tax file number, and started to bank my earnings. I was saving up for a stereo, or a new bike, or a cricket bat, or all three.

I was eventually asked if I wanted the 6am job too. I accepted immediately. I thought I could double my pay to $5.00 a day for about 20 mintues work. But the morning shift came with some extra duties for the $2.50. I was given a key to the complex, quite a responsibility for a 14 year old. I had to open up, turn change room lights on, and then remove the covers, which was easy given the mad keen morning swimmers would effectively do this with me. I also had to clean the scum lines around all three pools.  In addition to the two ends of the 25m pool, there was a toddler pool and a splash pool at the base of the slide winder. I also had to walk up the slide winder to check for damage. My fear of height diminished greatly after performing this task everyday. Oh, and I never encountered the ‘mythical’ razor blade stuck in the slide. Three times a week I used the fire hose to wash down the change rooms floors and outdoor concourse. Once I was asked to top up the filters with a big bag of soda ash. I dumped the contents of the 20kg bag and the powder blew back in my face and up my nose. I’ve never regained my sense of smell.

In the summer holidays of 1988-89, one year into the job, I was present on a particularly hot and busy day. One of the casual staff had not arrived for shift, and I was asked to put on a polo shirt with “Pool Attendant” written on the back, and go out and patrol the pool. I didn’t have any training, but I was instructed to blow the whistle really loud if a patron got into difficulty. After this impromptu introduction to “life saving”, I asked if I could train officially. I continued working as a Pool Attendant over the course of my training that season and eventually completed my First Aid and Bronze Medallion. My best friend secured work along side me, and we had several great summers in our mirrored sunglasses patrolling the pool. My memory of the work is marred by an assault that occurred on my watch (see seperate post). Ultimately, it was a role I enjoyed each season until I left George Town to live in Launceston in 1991.

Postscript:

I never purchased a cricket bat, nor a new bike, but I did translate my savings into the newest technology available; in 1990 I purchased a strereo with a CD player.