IN an age when most outdoor public swimming pools have been filled in and chalked off as unnecessary expenses, people are still gonna cool off where they can.

Although when compared with the majestic might of the ocean, ponds, rivers, reservoirs, and lakes are seen as relatively safe, this is not strictly the case.

According to the National Water Safety Forum, most accidental drownings in Wales now happen inland, not at sea.

Any body of water can be dangerous, but people have forgotten what lies beneath and how you can get quite literally in over your head in less time than it takes to boil an egg.

The Keepers Pond is a case in point.

Now a hot spot for paddle boarders, wild swimmers, and inflatable enthusiasts, the man-made lake built during the Industrial Revolution to supply water for ironmaking has become the perfect place to enjoy a dip.

It wasn’t always so.

Back in the day, it was avoided like the plague.

You’d be lucky to find a seagull on it, let alone a bikini-clad daredevil.

Rumour abounded about the corpses (animals, of course) which lay in that mountainside pond. Not to mention talk of its bottomless depths, sudden drop-offs, and icy cold temperatures. It was said to be full of underwater hazards that could claim the life and limb of any unsuspecting party.

The very name The Keepers seemed ominous and malevolent, like something out of a Stephen King novel. It spoke of unspeakable evil and a terrible patience.

A pond that you’d enter and never return.

A pond that was haunted by something kids growing up in the 1970s and 80s would know collectively as the “Spirit of Dark and Lonely Water.”

Generation X bang on a lot about how much resilience we have compared with later generations, but it’s only because we were terrorised on a daily basis by parents, teachers, one another, and the state.

As a kid, you were forced to spend dawn from dusk outside during the Summer months so you’d always be looking for something to do. And when hedge hopping, knock up ginger, and starting fires lost their appeal, you’d go for a dip.

Back then, we had outdoor swimming pools, but when you wanted to cool off and smoke stolen cigarettes far from the constraints of adult supervision, you'd go a bit feral and hit the reservoirs and rivers.

Rumours abounded about the dangers beneath. From abandoned cars to shop trolleys and dead cows. In a way, it was part of the fascination.

In Tredegar reservoir, there were rumours of a crashed Spitfire lying in the depths. It’s never been proven, but I did get a nasty gash on my foot from stepping on a sheep’s skull there once.

The point is, we still swam in remote spots many moons ago, but I like to think we always had a conditioned but healthy respect for wild water, thanks to a 1973 Public Information Film that is nothing short of a horror classic.

We only had three TV channels back in the day, but that didn’t stop the state from using them to give us nightmares with one minute and 29 seconds of pure hell.

In a voice that sounds like Satan doing a Laurence Olivier impersonation, the spirit, dressed up like an extremely enthusiastic Grim Reaper, announces gleefully, “I am the spirit of dark and lonely water, ready to trap the unwary, the show-off, the fool.”

Over a series of footage of kids innocently playing near water, the spirit informs us how easy it is for him to take the lives of the unsuspecting and then proceeds to demonstrate.

It’s harrowing stuff, particularly for a toddler, and critics might argue it didn’t make much of a difference to how we behaved in water, but surely, it’s worth a revamp and reboot to warn kids today about the dangers of what lurks beneath?