Research – Page 3 – I Walk Alone

Stepping back in time ~ 1926

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This may be true, but when it comes to writing historic fiction, a picture can conjure a thousand words, at least for me. My stories might be inspired by family and odd things I’ve read here and there. The details might be sharpened by research using resources like JSTOR, old newspapers, Radio times archives, old OS maps, archived weather reports and local history pages on Facebook. The old photographs and postcards give me a feel for the era I’m writing about, though. They capture the essence of the time and place like words never can.

Homeward bound

Thanks to the blue bin lorry driver’s rather rude and distracting interruption, I never did get round to the final instalment of my epic foggy walk on 11 January. To be honest, I toyed with the idea of leaving it as it was, with me walking through the beautiful misty parks and chatting with the park keeper. The trouble was, I had some wonderfully atmospheric photos I didn’t want to waste, and the area set the scene in both Plagued and Land Fit For Heroes. That area was Northam, and it is well worth a look around.

Percy and the Royal South Hants

On 11 January, I stood on the corner of Lyon Street and Onslow Road in the fog and thought about the best route home. The quickest way was to walk to the end of the road and turn left onto Derby Road and then right onto Mount Pleasant. I was so close to the Royal South Hants Hospital, though, it seemed silly not to see it while I was there. After all, it had played a pivotal role in Land Fit For Heroes, and I could almost imagine Percy running along the road in the dark. Of course, the hospital he would have seen no longer exists — at least, most of it doesn’t.

Bevois Valley in the fog

My foggy walk on 11 January did not end in Dukes Road. Instead, I carried on to Bevois Valley. The area is named after Sir Bevois, who, according to legend, founded the town of Southampton. I’ve written about the story of Sir Bevois before when I explored the Bevois Mount area and its fabulous graffiti, so I won’t repeat myself now. Today, there were other things I wanted to see. Some were connected with my work in progress, some were reminders of Plagued and Land Fit For Heroes, and others were curiosities I wanted to investigate. The fog wasn’t going to make it easy, but I was there, so it was worth a try.

Misty St Denys morning

A cold, damp blanket of fog hung over Southampton on 11 January. As I crossed Cobden Bridge, I heard the haunting sound of distant fog horns and watched a lone gull circling. It felt as if he and I were alone on the river. Of course, we were far from alone, but walking in the fog imparts a feeling of splendid isolation. The water hanging in the air muffles the hum of traffic, and fellow travellers appear, like spectres out of the gloom, then disappear again as soon as they’ve passed. I’d planned to walk along the river, but the lack of visibility made me change my mind. Instead, I thought I might check out a few locations from my work in progress. St Denys was a key feature, so I walked across the bridge.

Peartree Green – fires, bombs and Mother Nature

April 22 was one of those changeable spring days, with heavy skies that could as easily have brought rain as sun. I’d had a mind to walk down to the shore, but I’d been dithering all morning, waiting to see if the rain would come or not. In the end, I decided on a compromise. I would walk to Peartree Green and have a wander around. Then, if the heavens opened, I wouldn’t have too far to go to get home and dry. At least it wasn’t cold. In fact, by the time I’d climbed the steep steps from Braeside Crescent to Gainsford Road, I was boiling in my ‘just in case’ mac. Normally, I walk the other way — along Braeside Road and up the hill, but the view from the top of those horrible steps drew me. A tantalising glimpse of the railway line and Chessel Bay through the trees and beyond the roofs of the houses makes the climb worthwhile.

Slum clearance – Northam Street

There have been several rounds of slum clearance in Southampton’s history, notably when the area around Simnel Street was cleared in the 1890’s after the discovery of the body of Ellen Wren. I’ve written about Ellen and her unfortunate demise before, so I won’t repeat myself, but details can be found here if you missed it. More slums were demolished in the 1930s, mostly in a piecemeal fashion under rules brought about by the Housing Act of 1930. Others were not knocked down until the 1960s. Included in the latter were the houses of Northam Street, where my father-in-law, Albert Keates, was born. Seventh Daughter, the third book in my series, is set there. The book will probably be released at the end of the summer. In the meantime, I thought I’d share some of my research into the area.

Mount Pleasant

The next stop on my 11 April walk was Mount Pleasant, the area tucked away between Bevois Valley and Northam. It’s so tiny, more or less just one road and an industrial estate, that the name doesn’t even appear on the map. Nice as it sounds, the name Mount Pleasant usually has ironic origins and Mount Pleasant in Southampton is no exception. At risk of offending the locals, it is about as far as it’s possible to get from a mount — being at sea level right on the edge of the River Itchen — and it isn’t exactly pleasant either. In fact it’s right on the edge of Southampton’s most notorious red light district. Having said that, the little terraced houses are lovely and the area has a very interesting history. This was what I’d come to explore.

St Denys roots

When I set out for a walk on 11 April 2022, St Denys was my aim. It was warmer than it had been and the sky was pleasantly blue, but the colour really capturing my attention was pink. In part, this was down to blossom bursting out on many of the trees I passed, but there was also an intriguing pink shop I wanted a closer look at. We’d passed it in the car on our way to the supermarket a few times and the bright pink made it stand out. The sign said, The Whimsical Kitchen, but, from the car, it was hard to see what it actually sold.

Mud, paint, park runs and fallen leaves

As 2021 drew to a close my outdoor exercise mostly revolved around parkrun. My first Novel, Plagued, was about to be published and almost every waking moment was consumed by proof reading and panic. The empty boating lake and the bare branches of the trees, like ink blown paintings, were a welcome relief. Even so, my head was buzzing with ideas, flitting between Plagued, in 1918 and my work in progress set in 1937, working title The Luck of the Draw. My plan for the morning was to walk up to the Avenue to try to imagine it with tram lines and trams.

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