Moseley Road Swimming Baths revisited.

I wrote this particular post on March 31st 2010 and someone wrote some very kind words about it the other day so I took a look at the post and as it interested me I thought it might interest you.

I am continually surprised just how far in to the future these posts go.

I passed Moseley Road Swimming Baths last year as I was in Birmingham, for a funeral, and the building is still there.

Here is the post warts and all:

There was something that happened at Moseley Road Swimming Baths when I was about eight years old which, I suppose, I will remember for the rest of my life.

It is as clear to me today as when it happened all those many years ago; sounds like ‘Rebecca’ by Daphne du Maurier doesn’t it but let’s proceed.

Someone posted some photos on the Internet from a book about Balsall Heath and Highgate; both neighbourhoods of Birmingham, UK.

I bought the book they were in from Amazon; Amazon.co.uk, that is, and there was a photo in it of Moseley Road Swimming Baths; it looked exactly as I remember with dressing rooms surrounding the pool.

So before telling you this little story I looked up to see if the place is still there and in fact the building is being rescued by the Birmingham City Council.

Moseley Road Swimming Baths sounds a strange title and of course there is no such thing; the correct expression would be Moseley Road Baths and if you look above you will see the massive Edwardian Building that is situated on Moseley Road, Birmingham; looking at it from this perspective it looks like some Russian Government Building which I suppose a lot of Edwardian buildings in the UK look like.

For instance a very good film about Guy Burgess, the spy, called An Englishman Abroad was filmed in Dundee for Moscow.

But back to the baths; the building was built in 1907 about ten years or so after the Public Library, which is a similar looking building, next door.

At the front of the building there are three entrances: one for the first class facilities for men, another for second class facilities for men again and the third was the women’s entrance for all classes.

England was more obsessed with the class system back then than it is these days.

The first class facilities included a slipper bath and a swimming Pool; next to the pool there were cubicles for the men to change and the baths would supply swimming trunks and a towel; a slipper bath, by the way, was a hot bath and the bathtub, itself, was called a slipper bath because when it was upside down it looked like the underside of a slipper.

The second class men’s facilities included a slipper bath and a swimming pool but the pool didn’t have changing cubicles; the men had to change from a bench on the side and the water that was used in the first class pool was decanted into the second class pool every week; now there’s a thought!

The women’s facility was just a facility – the slipper bath.

The place has closed down now but in its latter days the homeless and the elderly would go there for a bath; the elderly because it was a safe place to take a bath and the homeless for obvious reasons.

When I started to go there to swim there was only one pool being used; the first class one and you can see a picture of it below.

I attended Clifton Road Junior School and when I was around eight years old we would go once a week to baths for swimming lessons; I used to love to go in those days although I was never any good at swimming and spent most of my time in the shallow end which was around three feet deep; the middle of the pool was five feet and the deep end with the diving boards was six feet three inches.

Freddie Bishop, a friend of mine, never came swimming and no matter how hard I tried he would refuse.

His excuse was that he had no swimming trunks and I told him that he could get a slip; a slip is all it was as it was just a piece of thin cloth you tied around you with a piece of string that was attached; it looked a bit like a baby's bib; unlike the swimming trunks of the old days of first class service.

We would walk from Clifton Road School, up Clifton Road itself and onto Moseley Road and to the swimming baths which were situated on the west side of the street; so it took a lot of supervision by the teachers getting us across busy streets and the walk must have been about fifteen minutes or so.

After our swim I think we were allowed to buy Wagon Wheels or other pieces of chocolate of the day.

After a lot of nagging from me Freddie Bishop finally decided to come one of the weeks and off we trotted on our usual route; I was delighted that my friend was coming.

When we got there I shared the dressing room with Fred; the cubicles went the length of the pool with the boys changing rooms on the left and the girls on the right, in the picture.

Our cubicle was by the deep end and I quickly got changed and ran to the shallow end to join everybody else; we would start with the same exercises every week which consisted of holding on to the bar, which encircled the pool, and kicking our legs out at the back to simulate swimming; we did this for quite some time and soon everybody was in the pool; except Freddie.

So I got out of the pool and went to the dressing room to sort him out.

He still had his socks on, when I got there, but couldn't sort out the slip. I think he couldn’t undo the previous knots, or something, and after I tried to help him for a while I left and went back to the pool.

The teacher looked at me and wondered where I had been but I just got back into the water and continued splashing.

A few minutes later I saw him leave the dressing room and jump into the deep end; he had his hands in a kind of dive position with his palms flat and as he hit the water they caused an enormous splash; I wondered what was going on and when I didn't see him come up I shouted to the teacher “Freddie Bishop has jumped in the deep end.”

“Don't be silly” the teacher said and started to supervise some children at the other end of the line telling them to kick harder.

I looked back up to the deep end and saw his head bob up and then disappear again.

“Look sir! Look!” I shouted.

The teacher looked up as Freddie’s head came up again – then disappeared.

We were ordered out of the pool and the teacher ran towards the deep end; we kind of wandered up there too.

Thinking back I can't understand why the teacher or a member of the baths staff didn't just get in and pull him out; Freddie kept coming to the surface and then he would go back down and it was obvious to us, even then, that he was drowning – but nobody got in.

A grown up found a big hook on the side and tried to hook him but he went back down again under the six feet of water; the next time he came up he reached with his hand outstretched; thinking back now he might have seen the hook but all I saw at the time was his hand and then we saw it go down to the depths of the deep end again and I thought it was for the last time as there was a look of finality about it – then we were kind of shooed away.

They did get him out but I never saw it happen.

I got back to the cubicle and his clothes lay there; I kind of thought it was my fault for persuading him to come swimming when he could have been back in the safe warm school.

When we were dressed and ready to go back to school I saw Freddie sitting behind a desk near the slipper baths entrance with towels and blankets wrapped around him; he was breathing very deeply and I could see his very frightened brown eyes staring ahead like a wounded fawn that had been rescued.