I read with great interest the feature about the lost swimming pools of Sussex (The Argus, March 26).

Having grown up in Brighton during the late-Forties and Fifties, I have extremely happy and vivid memories of days spent at Black Rock Pool.

Back then it was a joyous location filled with the sound of children's laughter and shouting.

I can remember running from the pool to find my mother and the towels she had with her. I would cuddle up in a deckchair and wait for our picnic lunch of boiled egg sandwiches and lukewarm lemonade.

Then I would wait impatiently until my mother said I could return to the pool. Standing on the edge of the springboard, I would take a deep breath, jump high into the air and fly into the water, dropping to the bottom like a stone.

There was always a queue of anxious children waiting in the shadow of the balcony to purchase ice cream cones.

The waitresses in the cafe above had neat black dresses and tiny white lace aprons hiding their "tips pouches".

Childless, carefree holidaymakers ate sedate lunches and enjoyed leisurely drinks, peering at the antics in the pool.

It was such a vibrant and popular place.

  • J Ravenett, Beaufort Terrace, Brighton