A big gun and more change

On 17 February, Commando decided he needed a little sea air, so we drove down to Hamble for a short stroll. For thirty years, he built aircraft in Hamble, so the drive was one he’d made often. Things have changed since we last came this way, though. As February was turning into a month all about change, it seemed fitting that we should document a little more of it.

The most obvious change was the skyline on the opposite side of Southampton Water. The spires and towers of Fawley Refinery and Power Station have dominated this view for most of my life. When I looked at them, I imagined a strange, futuristic town. Now a huge part of that town has gone. Mitchell Construction built the power station between 1965 and 1969. It opened as a 2000-megawatt power station in 1971. The station was oil-fired, powered by heavy fuel oil from the nearby Fawley refinery. Fawley only operated during times of high demand because of the expense of using oil rather than cheaper coal or natural gas, but its 198-metre chimney was a prominent landmark. In 2012, we learned that the power station would close, and on 13 March 2013, it did. The announcement that it would be demolished came as no great surprise. Homes were going to be built on the land, they said. The demolition took place in stages, beginning in October 2019 and ending on 31 October 2021, when the famous chimney finally came down.

The other change was the Big Gun. Back in 2015, I took CJ down to Hamble Point to see the Bofors gun. Back then, it was on a WW2 concrete gun emplacement at the tide line. Time and tide wait for no man though, and they had eroded away the concrete until the structure became dangerous. On 16 February 2021, the council moved the gun to its current position, a little further from the tide line. The gun emplacement remains, but they have fenced it off to stop people from climbing on it. Hopefully, we won’t need any anti-aircraft guns in the near future, so this change of position won’t matter. 

The day was beautiful for mid-February. Sun sparkled on the water, the sky was blue and the wind wasn’t so cold it cut you in two. Buffeted, but undeterred, we took a stroll as far around the point as we could. Commando pointed out the lifeboats set up on mock decks, presumably for the sailing school to train people on operating the davits to launch them.

It isn’t possible to walk right around the point, so it wasn’t long before we had to turn around and retrace our steps. We admired the boats in the marina as we went. Much as the idea of sailing off into the sunset appeals, a boat is an expensive toy these days. Aside from the cost of the vessel itself, there are mooring charges, repair, annual bottom painting and a host of other things to eat up your savings. The days of working-class sailors like Bert Porter, in my novels, buying an old wreck and fixing it up for next to no cost, are long gone. Like so much else, it has become big business. Some of the yachts in the marina probably cost more than my house.

We rounded off our short walk with a little wander on Hamble Common. The bright yellow gorse flowers reminded me that spring was on the way. The bare trees told me winter was still with us, and the long afternoon shadows told us not to go too far as the February days are short.

Our walk had been short and sweet, a little like this post, but we’d documented more changes and got some fresh air and exercise. All in all, I’d say that’s a good afternoon’s work.

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