Lancing College Adventure

Well, I had this grand description of my entire adventure to this new location—Lancing College pool, in Shoreham, outside of Brighton—all written up for this blog site. I clicked “post,” and what shows up on the site? Nothing more than the lovely title, “Lancing College Adventure.” Sometimes I despise computers. Thus, I am reduced to re-summarizing my adventure once again.

Since I have arrived, I have endeavored to find a swim club here in Brighton—no easy task when you consider that competitive sports are nearly obsolete in England. Merely by accident, when I was in King Alfred Leisure Center, trying out the pool I had located (a convenient half mile, or whatever that is in km, from my residence), I saw a notice announcing a swim meet that weekend hosted by the Shivers. I inquired about it and collected the name and phone number of the assistant coach from the woman at the front desk.

After that, I attended one practice that was held at King Alfred Leisure Center. However the “team” (i.e. random collection of swimmers ranging from 10 years to 75 years of age, but all reasonably fast) practices more often at a place called Lancing College. I determined to attend a practice there. However, despite my requests for directions to this location, I received no advice for how to get there via bus or any other method of transportation. My only consolation was that if I managed to arrive on Wednesday night, a woman who was a tri-athlete from South Africa would drive me home.

After studying Google maps and intently reviewing the bus routes listed online and inside my paper bus schedule, I determined which line would take me closest to my destination. I figured I would have to walk a little bit, judging from the map, but I was determined to try and make it there. At this point, I had labeled this my “adventure.” I had no idea what an adventure this would turn out to be.

First off, the bus I took ended up not taking me as close as I had expected. I needed to be dropped off at the Red Lion Pub, and the #2 bus only went to the Southlands Hospital, which was located approximately 2 miles away; the 2A went to the Red Lion. Fortunately, another bus was waiting ahead of our bus as it pulled up, and my driver suggested that I ask whether it was going to the Red Lion. I did; it was; so I hopped on. Unfortunately, I did not know what the Red Lion looked like, so I nearly missed my stop. Luckily, that bus driver asked me, “Didn’t I want to get off?” when we reached the pub, so I disembarked and went on my way.

Instead of relying on the directions I had mapped out for myself on Google, I went inside the Red Lion and, once I found the bartender, which took a good while amidst all the windy staircases and bar chairs, I asked for directions to Lancing College. She took me out the back door and directed me: down a path through some bushes, across an iced-over wooden bridge in the dark, across an unlit parking lot, across four lanes of traffic, around the side of a hotel, and up the long college drive which wound through fields of grass, to the top where there loomed a majestic-looking cathedral. The trek was dark, cold, and long, but I made it up to that massive, lit-up church. Once I got there, I spied a catholic grade-school-looking gymnasium down to the right, so I wandered down there. Lo and behold! There was the pool. The doors were unlocked, and right inside were the dressing rooms. My mission was complete. Now, only two hours of swimming at £3.50 to go. Cheers.