“Peter & Patience”
Between 1981 and 1986 my family spent a great deal of time staying at/using the facilities of the Holiday Inn-Swiss Cottage [London]. We had a lot of good times at the hotel. It was a huge part of our lives until we realized that there was an entire global metropolis also worth exploring. What kept us coming back though, was the pool.
The Holiday Inn-Swiss Cottage’s pool was lined with dark tiles and had a plastic rope attached to floatables which dissected it in half. Four feet deep on one side of the rope then sloping down to seven feet on the other. I’m sure it looked great in the planning process but in reality very little daylight ever hit the water. As the day wore on the water got darker and darker until it was near black. Young kids would sometimes have to be coaxed into the water for fear of losing themselves in it once submerged.
Also, I have never tasted such salty pool water. It was more than an over abundance of chlorine. There was a strong organic component at work, too. Sweat, saliva, piss all mingled together. I don’t recall the pool ever being closed for cleaning.
A steep marble stairway lead from the pool down to a subterranean collection of hallways known as “The Gallery.” This was an assault chamber masquerading as an underground shopping area. “The Gallery” hosted a hair salon and two shuttered spaces. It didn’t take a genius to realize that sooner or later “The Gallery” was going to be known as “the crime scene” and play host to violence of some sort. Only a fool would open a store a) below ground and b) someplace so destined to be dusted for fingerprints.
“The Gallery” was where the swimming pool’s changing rooms were. And through the door marked “Men” you would find Peter. Of close-cropped yellow hair and flaccid belly, Peter was around 35-years-old. In the few years I knew Peter I never once saw him outside. It was as if he came with the hotel and never knew a life besides.
The locker room was three walls of pale green lockers, one above and one below. In the center was a wooden bench bolted to the floor. Fluorescent bulbs were overhead and, in keeping with the aquatic theme, pale blue sconces hung on the walls. A few feet away was the sauna. In between were two urinals and two stalls. This was Peter’s realm, where he reigned supreme.
Peter spent hour after hour sitting on the bench, in the sauna or roaming between the two. As clear as yesterday I can see Peter sitting crossed legged, wearing only a towel split up the leg, smiling and welcoming me into his labyrinth.
I should say that Peter was unfailingly polite and warm. And for all the conversations I had with him I'm only able to recall one.
We were sitting in the sauna. Just the two of us. At most I was 12. He doused the hot rocks with cold water from the bamboo spoon that hung on the wall and took a seat.
Upstairs was a games area beside the pool. A couple of ancient [even by 1985 standards] arcade games, a ping-pong table, and a worn snooker table. Peter had heard from someone that I was having trouble with my snooker game. How this information made its way into his subterranean nether realm I never knew. Could the conversation downstairs be so desperate that my lame snooker skills upstairs really be a point of discussion? I guess so.
“Be patient,” Peter said. “No need to rush. Take your time when lining up a shot. You’re in too much of a hurry.”
Pretty solid snooker advice, actually. And that it came from Peter makes total sense. Who else had more patience than a guy who spent his days in a locker room waiting for company? Patience was something Peter had plenty of.
And yes, in case you’re wondering, my game did improve.
Addendum:
The Holiday Inn-Swiss Cottage was purchased, and remodeled, by Marriott in the mid-1990s. The pool was refurbished – as were the changing rooms and sauna where once Peter plied his wares.