It felt like textbook psychogeography:
Walking in a straight line along the old North Wilts Canal,
In a ‘playful wandering exploration’,
Reimagining the railway works and the seemingly endless sidings,
Remembering where I used to train-spot and play football,
Long before the advent of these seemingly endless roads.
We walked past the Victorian railway railings
And the high red brick walls,
With their seemingly endless graffiti,
Despite the signs threatening hefty fines,
Past an old railway iron gate with ornate columns,
The double-lock once important for railway security,
But the gates now lie open on a road to nowhere.
But the carefully wrought railings were a delight
With a high-tide of creamy may blossom,
With an occasional disconcerting cluster
Of last autumn’s red berry mist of fruitfulness,
To remind us of William Faulkner’s dictum:
‘The past is never dead. It’s not even past.’
But is that so?
The Oasis lies in classic edgelands terrain:
A brownfield scrubland of ‘guerrilla ecology’,
The Oasis itself, erupting from the landscape
Like some gaunt symbol of lost modernity.
I took a photo and sent it to my children:
“Omg! I loved the Oasis! I remember thinking the shower and wave machines were the most exciting things ever. I remember your shorts, dad, over-inflating and us getting stuck on the tubes.” “Those days out on the train in the summer holidays to the Oasis are such treasured memories. A real special treat.”
I read their messages and stared at the dome,
Standing in what felt like a dystopian movie-set,
So hard to imagine now that this once contained
A ‘tropical-style swimming pool complete with water slide.’
It seemed correct to continue on a virtual straight line
So as to continue my psychogeographical ramble:
I went straight on to AI for the reasons for this bizarre brownfield mystery:
A grade 2 listed building, ‘protecting it from simple demolition and making its future redevelopment complex’ and thus ‘suffering from disrepair and anti-social behaviour, resulting in a partial closing order for the site. While currently closed and undergoing ownership/repair disputes, a deal was signed in April 2026 for GLL to run it if reopened, although no firm opening date has been set. SevenCapital, the owner, has entered into an agreement with GLL to operate the centre upon restoration, as shown in reports.’
‘The Save Oasis Swindon group continues to campaign for the renovation of the lagoon pool and sports facilities.’
I absorbed some of that and gazed wide-eyed
At this dystopian dreamscape,
Where the trees had escaped from the tree museum
To recolonise still extant but futile car parks,
With their fading white lines of division,
Signage warning of non-existent ramps,
Where mouldering layers of asphalt now lie
(‘Underneath the pavements, the beach!’
The Situationists once more cry),
By the sign of the silhouette
Running full pelt behind the arrow
On the ‘Evacuation Route’ through time and space,
Past the UKPC sign NO UNAUTHORISED PARKING …
So many ghosts of cars and vans, and families
Full of anticipatory glee …
The Oasis windows from this position
Had echoes of an art deco ocean liner,
But with a hull festooned with tagging and graffiti,
Fencing and trees and close circuit tv cameras …
I took once last valedictory look –
I remembered once more my children’s memories,
And me playing football and train-spotting,
And I remembered those lines from T.S. Eliot:
‘And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started.
And know the place for the first time.’
‘The past is never dead. It’s not even past.’