| If you belong to a diving club, and especially if you're a club officer, you might recognise the scenario described here by Tony Small. Doesn't anyone want to go diving any more? |
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I STAND UP AND ADDRESS THE ROOM, wishing I was back home helping my wife do the ironing - that's how much I dread speaking at AGMs. "What can we do to keep new members?"
The others in the small group look thoughtful, but remain silent.
"I mean, it can't be that difficult, can it? We don't smell (too much), we're friendly (except Steve) - so why, oh why, are we always struggling?"
Again, nobody speaks. All look lostin concentration. In my three years as training officer, we have done around 100 try-dives, yet only three people have gone the course, become divers and stayed in the club.
"Stop the snorkel training," comes the first voice.
"OK, what if we integrate the snorkel training into the scuba course?"
"More social life," says the next.
"Fine. Who wants to organise it?" Silence. At the moment we have a social-come-theory training hour before the pool session, and go to the pub afterwards (not compulsory). "And let's not forget the Christmas do. It's been getting so small that this year the bar staff will outnumber us two to one!"
Heads nod in agreement.
"More diving."
"Attract more qualified divers."
"It's Catch 22. The club lost money last year on empty dive boats and had to cancel some dives due to lack of interest. Now we have even fewer divers to pay for more hardboats and just hope that we can fill them."
The club treasurer is starting to fidget.
"What if we get a RIB?"
I'm not sure if the treasurer is laughing or crying. The last club inflatable existed before my time. It had taken on an almost mythical status - "The Club Boat". When, one evening, I had foolishly enquired about its whereabouts, all eyes were downcast as if I was talking of original sin.
"We don't really know." The whereabouts of the Unicorn, as I began to think of it, were shrouded in mystery, though I suspected that more people had actually seen a unicorn than this boat.
After many weeks of interrogation, someone had admitted to knowing someone who knew something: "Great, tell me more!"
It took a long time and much pain to ascertain that the fabled club boat, along with the outboard and trailer, had been abandoned some years before in the garden of a long-lost club member, because no-one had been willing to tow it or maintain it.
Having lain idle up to its transom in wet grass, the guardian of the club boat had disposed of it - for no financial gain, of course! My heart sank. So near, yet so far.
Back at the meeting, the roll-call of previous members is underway. What happened to John? Got fed up with diving. Robin? Too busy at work. Donna and Graham? Married and moved away. Dave and Gaynor? Had a baby. Steve and Nonze? No idea - change of jobs? John and Del? Bust-up at last AGM over how to cut costs yet get more members by not going diving. This was coming full circle.
"What about trainees?" We have all sorts - from postmen to gynaecologists, all dead keen, even going as far as wanting to dive in a lake in December in a wetsuit. Yet all slowly disappear. "What if we make the training easier and dump the lectures?"
I look at the table, imagining an open-water dive site resembling the Somme. "No, I don't think so."
We have tried small ads in diving mags, local papers and shop windows (I draw the line at phone boxes). People enjoy try-dives, but 90 per cent of enthusiastic would-be divers have decided by the next week to stay in and watch TV. Doesn't anyone want to dive any more?
The meeting breaks up after half an hour of reminiscing about how it used to be. We might not have had heliox or nitrox, but we all spoke bollox.
When I get home, my wife asks: "How did it go?" She knows me well enough to interpret my "OK" as sadly quite bad.
I've thought of jumping ship and joining a more pro-active club, but why should I? I enjoy the company of the other members. But it's only hard work by a small number of people that keeps the club afloat.
I like the way that small ideas come to fruition. A discussion on World War One ships had led to a club week diving at Scapa Flow. A chat about rubbish led to a Sunday morning spent lifting shopping trolleys and old bikes from the local dock area. One trainee raved about this for weeks afterwards, bragging of having the highest "body count" of trolleys, and wanting me to sign it off in his logbook as a "search and recovery".
At least he still comes to the club every now and then. If only we could find more local people willing to invest time in learning to dive, then go on to teach others, so keeping the club spirit alive. Even if it does mean more people at the next AGM! Oh well, back to the ironing board - sorry, drawing board.
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