The pool sits high above the loch. Find the correct vantage point and the two waters merge into one. On the far side, pebbly beaches, scrubby woodland, and low hills. Above them, long wisps of white cirrus that streak the cobalt blue sky.
It’s a luminous May afternoon in Argyll and the holiday weekend is well underway. I stretch out after the journey here, easing my limbs in the warmth, shaking off the mental clutter.
Young children with parents and grandparents splash and play. Glasgow voices joke and chat. People in the sunshine, enjoying the moment, free to have fun.
***
But next day, rain is falling steadily and the mist has descended. The loch is pewter grey, the far shore hidden from view. Scotland in May. Now I’m alone in the pool, gazing from the infinity point, my eyes clouded by the weather.
I think of my father. He was here 70 years back. Part of Churchill’s plan to reclaim Europe for the free world. Training with the newly formed Marine Commandos.
On these shores they practiced amphibian invasions, hand to hand combat, tactics and manoeuvres. Some of them died in the process. Many died later in the conflict. But their cause prevailed and liberty was restored.
***
I breast-stroke across the pool, as the rain falls cold on my head. Some other bathers have arrived. Their accents are unfamiliar at first, until I tune in. It’s a language I learned in school. I swim a little more and then, as I leave the pool, say a few words to them in their native tongue.
The mother replies in friendly tones: ‘Ist das nicht ein wunderbarer Ort? So schön bei jedem Wetter, und so friedlich’. Smiling wryly, I nod in agreement and say goodbye. Indeed it is a wonderful place. So beautiful in all weathers, and so peaceful.
Over my shoulder I take one last glance at the infinity pool. The mist over the loch is clearing with the strengthening wind. Somewhere, I think I hear the sound of gunfire.
Quotidian 