Once a fortnight, our junior school class would be marched, and I do mean marched, to the swimming baths in Walsall. It was some 60 years ago, but as I remember there were two pools, the large gala one and a smaller warm-water brine. Every time we went, there was a small old man standing in the brine pool. I say standing, but actually he was shaking uncontrollably.
His whole body shook, small arms flapping vigorously up and down, head and torso a continuous tremor of movement as he stood immersed in the water. This frail old man had shell shock, a condition he had carried since the World War I, severe tremors for more than 45 years. His was not a lost limb nor
