A different sea

7 December 2016

After the blue skies and sun of Cyprus the UK took a bit of getting used to. It was cold. It was wet. It was grey. There was also a great deal of washing to be done and catching up with a week’s worth of chores, not to mention CJ’s birthday. This meant a week with very little walking unless you count trudging up the Big Hill for milk in the rain  kind of walking. Today though there was blue sky. Ok, so it was still well below freezing but I was missing the sky and the sea so much I decided to take a walk down to the shore.

The trees along the woodland path were almost leafless and the ground was as hard as granite and crunchy as CJ and I stomped up the hill, squinting against the low sun. In the Millennium garden the feather sculpture where the Spitfires meet looked glorious against the blue sky but the cold was biting at my fingers through my gloves as I fumbled to take a photo.

As we marched through the Rolling Mills path with our breath clouding the air in front of us we caught our first proper sight of the water. It may not have been turquoise and azure like Coral Bay but the salt in the air and the sound of the waves made me smile. Near the end of the path a rather fancy child’s shoe was hanging by its lace on a pole. It seemed an odd thing to have lost and I couldn’t help imagining a child hobbling along with one bare foot.

The grass was still damp and sparkling from newly melted frost when we got to the promenade and I was surprised to see a fisherman’s tent set up on the foreshore. It seemed as if it would be a very cold place to sit, even if there was a fish at the end of it. The spires and towers of Fawley were half hidden by a veil of mist. A thin column of smoke was rising from the refinery making CJ and I wonder if there was a fire there and, if there was, whether we should be worried about it? On balance we decided it was probably nothing though and kept on walking.

We walked into the wind as far as the third beach shelter, then headed across the shingle towards the sea. It was far too cold to actually paddle in the water but I wanted to stand for a while and watch the waves kissing the shore. There is something very soothing about the sight and sound of waves.

When I set out I’d had half an idea to walk as far as Netley, or maybe even Hamble but the cold was making my fingers numb by this time so I decided this would be a good place to turn back. We stayed on the shingle for a while, stopping every now and then to pick up a pretty shell or an interesting looking stone.

Back on the Rolling Mills path we spotted a marigold that had escaped from somewhere and was flowering despite it being December and it having no business to be.

Before long we were turning onto Victoria Road where a large red crane was looming over the wastewater treatment works. Last year a great deal of building work went on there and the road was closed for ages. Apparently this was to improve the whiff that sometimes hangs about the area if wind is blowing the wrong way. Despite the disruption this was probably quite a popular move amongst the local residents but it seemed odd that more work should be going on so soon. As we passed, the gate was open so we peeked inside but ended up none the wiser.

A little further down the road we spotted a notice that explained. Apparently the work in 2015 was building a temporary treatment works and now a brand new works is being built beside it. It seemed like quite a performance but the picture and description of the new works looked quite innovative and a vast improvement on what was there when I lived in Woolston. If it ends up looking anything like the artist’s impression it will be well worth all the trouble. In fact, with the Centenary Quay buildings and the smartening up of the shops in the High Street, it seems to me Woolston is coming up in the world.

Soon we were passing the Millennium Garden again and, now we were away from the sea it felt a little warmer and I even began to think my fingers were thawing out. The path on Sea Road though, untouched by the sun, was still solid and frosty. Winter definitely seems to be on the way.

The final part of our walk was through the streets backing onto Chessel Bay. For some reason there seemed to be an abundance of cats swanning about today. CJ can’t resist stopping to say hello to every cat he sees so our progress was slow. In fact, we very nearly ended up being followed home by one pretty grey moggy. She seemed so fond of CJ she wound herself around his legs and he sat on the kerb to smooth her.

On a garage roof nearby I noticed yet another cat watching. For a moment it looked as if she was going to jump down to join the fun but, in the end, she didn’t.  Eventually, with much cajoling from me, CJ left the grey cat and began to walk up the hill. The cat wasn’t impressed with being left and followed him. She came as far as the top of the hill and might have actually followed us home if it hadn’t been for the lady walking a small snappy dog coming towards us. The dog growled and strained at its lead trying to get to the cat. There was a stand off for a moment but, when the dog began to bark, the cat finally ran off. I think CJ was quite disappointed. He’d like another cat.

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