A Morning of Mourning at the Leisure Centre of Purgation
Written by Edward Charles - May 24th, 2025
It was the Ninth of September Twenty-Twenty-Two, and I felt like a swim. Queen Elizabeth II had died yesterday and we were supposedly in a period of mourning. My conscience would soon be washed clean by the chlorine. Why not swim because the Queen died? Lizzy would probably want me to.
If it were any other day I wouldn’t think twice about going to the pool; I would be out the door in my thongs and rashie as soon as I could. But for some strange reason, it almost felt taboo to be bathing in a public place so soon after a monarch had died. Don’t speak ill of the dead doesn’t naturally extend to don’t swim the day after the dead became dead.
I knew I couldn’t tackle this feeling alone. I roped in the company of my brother, brother-in-law, sister, and friend for good measure to share in my shameful act of swimming. We strolled on over to the leisure centre, feeling a little too casual in our swimwear. There was already enough called off, surely she wouldn’t spoil my swim too. Official mourning period or not, I could do with some aquatic exercise.
We rocked up, and lo and behold, it was business as usual. No one seemed to care that Lizzy had died no more than twenty-four hours earlier. There was no one wailing in the foyer of the leisure complex, bar those annoying kids that seem to cry for no good reason
I looked down at my striped beach board shorts. Big faux pas! Blue and white aren’t mourning colours! Polyester was not very mourning period of me. Maybe I should’ve worn black boardies as a sign of respect? Or sack cloth? I wondered if the pool cafe had any ashes I could rub on my forehead.
Whilst contemplating the plausibility of making a bathing suit out of hessian (itchy!), we were fast admitted into the pool. The familiar nose-hair-singe of chlorine struck me as oddly comforting, and I wondered if Lizzy ever went swimming. I guess I might never know.
She was gone now, but for some reason the thought of her putting on a striped one-piece and swan diving into the pool amused me. She was human after all, behind the pomp and circumstance, and I'm sure the simple human delight of a swim could not be buried under all that regality.
As my toes touched the chilly shimmering water of the outdoor pool, I felt almost as if she were there with me, taking a dip and relaxing. And hessian boardies or not, I too would enjoy my swim.
‘A Morning of Mourning at the Leisure Centre of Purgation’ is an anecdotal retelling of my visit to the pool, with some thinking inbetween and peaceful reflection. I was inspired by the transient nature of this life here on earth, and yet it's also a mundane piece about those moments that can sometimes be bottled up and pondered upon at a later date. I think the appeal of water is universal in its ability to cleanse us of our worries of life (and death), and I am somehow infatuated with the idea that indeed the rituals of life can be shared by both royalty and lay folk alike.
- Edward Charles