I was hacked into existence nearly eight decades ago, rock-shelves hewn into walls and pools.
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Now I'm cracking round the edges, chips off here and there, yet oceans of sunscreen and baby oil have been splashed liberally all around to smooth my walls.
I've been pampered and rejuvenated. I've been re-designed.
I've been scraped and pumped and painted. Still, it's at the end of the working day, when the sun sets and the last swimmers leave, that I like to reminisce about some of the times I've shared with others.
The bride teetered on the edge before losing her balance and toppling into the water, her dress blooming on the surface like some bloated jellyfish.
Her newly minted husband stumbled and lurched, grabbing at thin air to stop her plunging in before he, too, overbalanced and hit the drink, cartwheeling his arms in comic book fashion.
The rest of the wedding party's shrieks of horror soon turned to delight as one, then another, bridesmaid and groomsman dived in to join the shocked couple in the water, realising that it was only the photographer who would remain dry to record the hilarity.
A wedding shoot to remember.
The swimmer pushed off with his feet, toes grabbing the craggy wall under the whitewashed block, the big number "1" looming large in a flash of vision.
He liked the southernmost lane (actually, it made his day if he scored it) butted up against the edge and with the chance of a fellow lap swimmer on just one side.
The wall guided him to the other end, gently nudging him if he swam off course.
The bride teetered on the edge before losing her balance and toppling into the water, her dress blooming on the surface like some bloated jellyfish. Her husband stumbled and lurched, grabbing at thin air to stop her plunging in before he, too, overbalanced
It was coveted by the old boy's mates as he slowly slapped his way up and back, head thrusting skyward to gasp a breath, goggles misting and shoulders beginning to throb with a dull ache.
Reluctantly, he relinquished his spot, and it was snaffled like a seagull on a hot chip by another swimmer as he left the pool ... maybe he'd grab it again tomorrow?
The kids swathed in neon rashies and slathered in sunscreen played on the little strip of sand along the shallow pool.
Yellow earth-moving trucks, graders and diggers, were pushed around under the beach umbrella, building a miniature world of mountains and valleys, golden sandy roads beside granular playgrounds and crumbling houses.
The brother and sister, engrossed in their work, called for mum and dad to look at their building project and help them build a river to meet the town.
All four of them scrambled and dug, flinging sand aside to allow the water to flow into their tiny, new world as they laughed and played.
The river flowed into the streets when the dam was breached, and the town was flooded.
That's the end of building, now time for a swim.
The surfers only ventured onto the pool deck when the seas were monstrous, giant surges of power in every swell denying them entry to the ocean from the beach or rocks.
Waves crashed into the blocks; roaring freight-trains barrelling through the pool and smashing over the promenade, turgid bulk jettisoning onto the picnic tables and benches.
The board riders, undeterred, fought their way to the blocks to await a slight lull in which to launch. Timely leaps seemed doomed, yet these nautical warriors defied physics and belied their stature by paddling furiously against this colossal surge, duck-diving powerful foam and emerging beyond each wave.
Time and again they dived and paddled till, one by one, they negotiated the treacherous route seawards and paddled north to recover before challenging the liquid skyscrapers flowing towards the beach.
The teenagers hadn't intended to end up here at the end of a hot summer's day.
A day at the beach with friends doesn't get any better than when the sun is shining, school's a memory for the year and the air is sizzling with excitement and anticipation.
They were pulsing with energy and happiness and the group of friends frolicked in the surf and baked in the sun, towels interlaced on the sand as secrets were shared and friendships confirmed.
They broke for regular drinks and snacks, and the time moved on, and the pool at the end of the promenade beckoned.
Diving in the big pool, the group slowly dwindled until just a few were left dotted in the water under a setting sun, a canvas of blush gold brushed on low clouds as the light ebbed.
The two of them kissed lightly, lips cool and hearts racing, all others forgotten as electricity danced and summer smouldered.
Crustaceans and limpets used to carve their tracks languidly over these shelves and through rockpools, as the surf fizzed across the rocks and hit the cliffs unabated and free.
The water is corralled now, and the pace of life has changed.
I've seen a lot, believe me.
The crowds keep coming day after day, ice bathers in winter dawns and families frolicking till summer's sun sets.
School carnivals and social swimmers, sporting teams and step-runners.
I've even got my own lifeguard now.
I'm old but strong, relishing the role I've played in so many people's lives.
More adventure awaits tomorrow. Won't you join me?
