Harkness – MacGillivray Stories

From 1960 to 1962, I attended the Isis private school in Bolton, Lancashire, where we would regularly visit the local swimming baths. However, the school eventually built its own small 15-yard swimming pool —a somewhat ambitious project that may have stretched their finances, as the school eventually went bankrupt. Despite this, the key point I’m trying to make is that between the ages of 11 and 13, I never truly learned how to swim. Well, I did ‘learn’, but only by holding my breath.

Later, at Barstable School, we had a fantastic 25-yard swimming pool, and the teachers there were quite skilled. Even I, the ‘slow learner,’ eventually learned to swim, thanks to Mr. Jones, the P.E. teacher—or was it Mr. Bolton? I can’t quite remember.

In any case, I was awarded a certificate, which qualified me to join the school’s canoeing holiday along the River Wye in Wales at 14. It was during this trip that many of us from Barstable met girls from another school (whose names escape me now). We spent the week camping, canoeing, and even sampling local cider in pubs along the way.

The Stubborn Lad

I had developed a reputation among the gym teachers for being stubborn and determined. Even though I wasn’t exactly a star athlete, I always made sure to participate no matter what.

One day, the heating system in the school swimming pool broke down, and Mr. Bolton wasn’t sure whether or not to let us swim. Being the clever man he was, he decided to use my stubbornness to his advantage. He asked me to test the water to see if it was too cold. “Jump in and let us know,” he instructed.

I jumped in, and, naturally, he asked, “Is the water too cold?” probably expecting me to say no.

“No, not really, Sir—just a little cooler than before,” I responded, though the water was freezing!

As expected, all the boys were then required to jump in.

Phil Mitchell

Phil Mitchell, a classmate, was absurdly fast in the pool. He could swim 25 yards in 11 seconds—twice as fast as any of the rest of us.

Swimming Later in Life

Ironically, I’ve become a much better swimmer in my later years than I was at 16. Now, at the age of seventy, I can swim two kilometres in two hours in the cold Oslo fjord—though I do wear a wetsuit for that!