Petersfield's open-air pool celebrates 50 years

As a result of our inactivity over the past month or so, we're not surprised that readers have started sending in their own features. Could this piece start a new trend? Marketing by humorous stealth... Our thanks to 'Petersfield Pete'

Petersfield’s open-air swimming pool is putting on an exhibition to celebrate 50 years of happy bathers. 

Careful scrutiny of the pictures from 1962 revealed an unexpected guest at the grand opening. Three years later Scott started flying Thunderbird 1 from under the swimming pool ontropical paradise Tracy Island. 

Had Petersfield narrowly lost out on being International Rescue’s Worldwide Centre? Rumour has it that Lady Penelope’s Roller FAB 1 had been ticketed in the Festival Hall car park for occupying two bays. Ahhh… the golden days of regulated parking in the town. 

Only last year Scott surprised swimmers by dropping in to see if the place had stood the test of time. He wished that Petersfield had been chosen; the pool water was still warm, clear and inviting. Tracy Island had long ago succumbed to plasticine and cardboard fatigue. 

Many of the bathers were far too young to recall his catch phrase of FAB and no-one at all knew that it stood for ‘Fully Advised and Briefed’. However, they all liked his rugged good looks. An anonymous spectator commented that she would happily pull his string any time. 

Meanwhile BAA consultant Mr Q Longer, who had been called in to manage the expected crush of exhibition visitors to the town’s museum after an article in the Petersfield Proust, was gutted to discover the exhibition was actually being held at the Flora Twort Gallery. 

The pool re-opens on Saturday, April 21.

Petersfield at a standstill - residents panic buy pavement space!

Petersfield is currently at a standstill as three separate queues create a major gridlock.

Motorists are queuing for fuel in Dragon St with the tailback going as far back as Liss. This follows the advice of the Government buffoon Francis Maude who yelled “Panic!” as he was seen carrying Jerry cans and boarding a chartered flight to the West Indies.

Elsewhere, in Chapel Street, lardarses keen to take advantage of the unseasonably warm weather which ensures luke-warm pasties are not liable for VAT, have tailed back from Greggs to the square, where an enterprising kebab-van owner has already started offering cut-price cold pies to the back of the queue.

And confusion reigned when the pasty queue collided with the Post Office queue, which, despite normally snaking around the corner now heads off down Sheep Street and The Spain, as people look to stock up on first-class stamps before those bastards from the Royal mail put the prices up again.

An innocent bystander, who was caught up in the panic, said: “I’m a traffic warden. I only came here to give out some tickets but now I’ve got two books of first-class stamps, a steak and stilton pasty (hot – and therefore liable for VAT) and a bucket full of diesel. And I’ve only got a push-bike!”