ONE of the worst things about living away from your homeland is having to cope with how it changes while you are away.

You hold it in your heart in a bubble of nostalgia, preferring that everything remains just as it was when you were there, then the shock of the changes comes as one big thump when you finally visit.

This situation is especially pronounced when the pace of change is rather rapid, as it has been for my hometown.

But even I, a terribly weepy nostalgic at the best of times, was shocked recently by my reaction to news I picked up from a friend.

The leisure centre at the top of our road, which has remained the same for decades, is to close in a mere few weeks to make way for a new facility elsewhere in the city.

This sounds good on paper, but this old centre is a place which absolutely embedded itself in the soul of anyone who used its facilities in their childhood.

It’s a brilliant, old-school, leisure pool which was built in 1980. Impractically shaped for distance swimming and laps, it is incredible fun for children.

One of the things I was most looking forward to doing when we had a child ourselves was taking our daughter there, and I was chuffed when she loved it.

Its shallow end has a fake ‘beach’ floor which provides grip for young children, and the deep water is only in the specially-designated ‘deep end’.

Behind a grid in the latter section, this centre’s magic trump card resides – a spectacular wave machine.

Every hour, a siren sounds to warn bathers that the waves are on their way, and let me assure you, this whole experience is unbelievably fun.

Now, it is all to close down, to be replaced by a rectangular pool with no slides and no waves.

The charming old-school processes – including hanger-baskets to put your things in, baskets which are locked away and minded by an attendant – will all be lost, ousted by sleek modern facilities and a big state-of-the-art building.

Progress is, obviously, inevitable and important, but I found that making a pilgrimage to this centre on my trips home nourished me in a way that probably sounds utterly ridiculous.

At Christmas, I remember hooking my toes into the pool rail and lying back in a quiet section, letting the sun shine on my face.

It was after a traumatic few months, and I felt a sense of calm come over me, much of which was to do with my love for this place.

It was like being embraced by an old friend, and was enhanced by the space’s charm, flaws and character.

I do recognise that change is necessary and for the best – especially when you come from a city which was so deeply affected by Northern Ireland’s Troubles – but in this case, we’re surrendering a little soul in exchange for our progress.