Bodies, weather warnings and a happy ending

12 to 15 August 2015

The working week began with rain. One of those wet Wednesday mornings that had me scurrying along the river with my hood up and my head down. By the time I got to the office I was damp and feeling pretty fed up. The day was mostly about Balloon Fiesta fallout, people who had been caught up in the long delays and weren’t happy about it. In truth I probably wouldn’t have been happy to wait two hours or more for a bus but then I wouldn’t have gone out to catch one when I knew there was a massive event going on that was bound to cause traffic chaos. We put together a standard letter explaining that the traffic wasn’t something we could control and, although we were sorry for the delays, they weren’t our fault and we wouldn’t be able to offer ticket refunds. After that it was a case of picking out all the relevant emails and firing off replies that we all knew wouldn’t be well received.

Reading masses of emails all saying variations on the same thing and sending out variations of standard replies is boring work. It was a huge relief when the day came to an end, especially as there was blue sky outside. For a change I decided to walk over Cobden Bridge on the way home. For a while it even felt a little like summer. The rain had chased away the horrible humidity and the little boats by the Millennium Flats  seemed cheery, even if the tide was out and they were sitting on the mud. Sadly, by the time I reached the bridge the blue was gone and it was trying to rain again. A few late wisteria flowers almost made up for the grey clouds on Monks Walk and I did at least get home before the rain fell.

Commando was reading the Echo when I got in. Apparently the body of a man was found on Freemantle Common on Monday morning, stumbled upon by a dog walker. So far, the poor man hadn’t been identified and the Echo was appealing for anyone who may have known him to get in contact. As I was walking through there on Tuesday on my way back from the shore it made me a little paranoid. Not so long ago a man’s body washed up near Woodmill and another young man was found hanging from a tree in almost the same place. These are both places I regularly walk. It felt like only a matter of time before I  stumbled over a body. There was bad news on the weather front too. The Met Office had issued a yellow weather warning. Heavy clouds were moving towards Southampton from the English Channel and torrential downpours, thunder, hail and flash flooding were forecast. It didn’t bode well for the walks to and from work.

As it turned out the weather warning was a bit of a non event. It was raining quite hard when I left home on Thursday morning but nothing that could have been called a torrential downpour. Even so, I decided to catch the bus just in case things got worse. Ironically, there is no bus that will take me from home to work, the best I can do is get to the other side of Northam Bridge and walk along the river from there. Still, the worst part of the walk in bad weather is the bridge so it’s better than nothing. A man was already waiting at the stop when I arrived.
“I heard a rumour it was August,” he said as he moved over to let me under the shelter.
“You’d never guess,” I smiled.

The rain continued steadily throughout the day but it seemed the worst of it missed us. Other parts of the south were not so lucky. Buses were delayed by heavy rain and, in a few cases, flash floods, people called in angry because they were getting wet waiting. Anyone would think we were responsible for the weather the way some of them went on, demanding refunds on their tickets and, in once case, insisting I called a taxi for them and paid for it. Quite how I was going to call a taxi in Portishead and pay for it from Southampton remained to be seen. Of course I said no. This was not well received and after a barrage of swear words the man slammed the phone down. At five o’clock I donned my plastic mac and struggled along the boardwalk to the bus stop. There are some advantages to having a free bus ticket but I was still soaked by the time I got in.

Friday morning wasn’t much better and I caught the bus again. This time I was alone at the bus stop and, by the time I got off at the other, end the rain had turned to drizzle. The far side of the river was hidden in the fine mist of it. Sharp edges were blurred and the only brightness came from the lights of the industrial units across the water. Gulls huddled on the bank and a lone swan looked at me as I passed by. Being a little earlier thanks to the bus I saw two trains rattling along the tracks beside the boardwalk before I got to the far side. The trees and buddliea flowers dripped on me as I climbed to the bridge.

The letter of the day came from someone in Hampshire. It took me some time to decipher it.

Deer Sir or Madum

I rite to conplane about your drive. He refised to purmit me on the bus with my pensyon pass. He sed he wood not permit me to travel be four nine o’clock. You abverbtrstrd a servise and I did not get one. I sirjuest you in from this drive he has to assept my pass in fewtur. Pleze refund the cost of the emklose tikit. 

Yours sinseerly 

Fred Bloggs

Obviously details have been changed but I swear this is the spelling. Hopefully he will understand the letter I wrote back explaining that the council doesn’t allow us to accept pension passes before nine thirty but, if he travels after that, the driver will be happy to accept his pass. At least it was a polite letter, which is more than can be said for most. Poor Pam had an email from someone called Poo. According to the journey details they caught a bus number poo, from a stop called poo to another stop called poo and the sum total of the rest of the email after this was simply poo. Quite what the point of taking the trouble to write that is beyond me. She deleted it without response.

It was still drizzly when I left the office but I braved the dampness and walked home, albeit head down as quickly as possible. It was  pleasant surprise then, to see blue skies and sunshine when I got up on Saturday morning. As I had the team breakfast pain au chocolate to pick up I took the river path to Cobden Bridge towards the Tesco Express. On the way there hollyhocks brightening a front garden made me smile. Further on I got a glimpse of the river from a gap in the fence of one of the moorings. An old upside down boat stood at the top of the slope and the arches of the bridge were reflected in the still water. What a change from the previous few days.

Pale blue sky and golden clouds made a nice change from grey dampness and I stopped to look at at house that always makes me curious. Under the apex of the roof there’s a strange square sunroom and I can’t help but wonder if it’s an original feature of this rather grand old building. The views from there must be fabulous and I always imagine myself sitting up there basking in the sun and looking out over the river. It’s a real house envy kind of place.

At Tesco Express the fresh pastries had just come out of the oven. The smell was wonderful and I sniffed the bag as I walked towards the Triangle clock. Starbursts of clematis vitalba were clambering over the edge of the bridge when I got there and I stopped several times to take pictures of the morning clouds dancing across the river as I crossed. There is something irresistible about puffy clouds reflected in water and I walked on with a spring in my step and a smile on my face.

Last year there was a rogue hollyhock growing on the roadside between the bridge and the slipway. It made me smile every time I passed until someone cut it down. On Saturday it was back, or at least a seedling from it. Hopefully it will be left to go to seed this year, although the snails already seemed quite interested in it, and maybe I can collect some for my garden. I do like free plants.

The view of sun and clouds was back when I reached the slipway and I stopped again to enjoy them. What a perfect end to a wet, worrying week.