Writing – I Walk Alone

Research rabbit hole ~ Southampton trams

Once upon a time, Southampton had an extensive tram network. Every time I go to the supermarket for my big shop, I’m reminded of it as I go up the stairs from the car park, thanks to a large mural on the wall. The supermarket in question was once the old bus and tram depot. When I was writing Luck of the Draw, I fell down a huge research rabbit hole centred around the trams and the tram depot. The story centred on a tram driver and his conductor friend, the former inspired by my husband’s grandfather Walter Dowling, who was a real-life Southampton tram driver. The history of Southampton trams didn’t really make it into the book, so I’ll share my discoveries with you here instead.

Research rabbit hole ~ Southampton and the Spanish Civil War

The civil war in Spain might seem a strange subject to research for a novel set in Southampton in 1937, but it was a rabbit hole I fell down when writing The Luck Of The Draw. At first glance, the war between Franco’s Nationalists and Republicans loyal to the Spanish Government, seems unconnected to the quiet port town of Southampton over six hundred miles away, but on 23 May 1937, the two became forever connected.

Research Rabbit Hole ~ Oswald Mosley in Southampton

Today, it’s hard to believe that there was ever a time when fascism was accepted in England. It’s even harder to imagine a massive British Union of Fascists rally on Southampton Common or the infamous BUF leader, Oswald Mosley, standing on top of a van giving a speech. This is exactly what happened on Sunday, 18 July 1937, but I’m pleased to say things didn’t go quite the way Oswald Mosley expected. Read on to find out more . . .

RIP Uncle Bill

On Friday 13 October 1944, Daisy Keates, the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, gave birth to her fourth and final son, William George, in the Borough Hospital, Southampton. Bill, as he came to be known, was the first of Daisy’s children born in hospital. After five years of war, being bombed out and moved countless times, she was not in the best of health. Daisy’s husband, Albert, had been working all over the country at whichever dock needed men, so she had to cope with bombs, rationing and three young boys alone. For most of the war, the Keates family had been living in the thick of it, right in the centre of Southampton, either in Northam Street, Lime Street, Queens Walk or Utility Flats, Canute Road. By 1944, they were back in Northam Street, in a two-up, two-down terraced house with no indoor plumbing and a toilet at the bottom of the garden. It was not the most auspicious start for young Bill Keates.

The first Old Fart’s railcard adventure

In early May, an author friend, Terry Tyler, mentioned getting a third off the cost of her rail tickets using a special rail card for the over-sixties. Entering the seventh decade of life doesn’t have too many benefits, so I thought I’d investigate. After a quick discussion with Commando and a simple online process, I was the proud owner of a sparkly new Senior Railcard. Actually, it’s an app on your smartphone, not a physical card, although you can order one if you wish. Having shelled out the princely sum of £30 each, we thought we’d better get our money’s worth, so on 7 May, we took our Senior Railcards on a trial run.

Research rabbit hole ~ Portswood 1935

Portswood Road – The Palladium is on the right

I lived in Portswood for a couple of years in the early 1980s, in a flat on Belmont Road, so when I wrote A Dish Best Served Cold, and my characters took me there, I already had a feel for the area. Things were different in Portswood in 1935, but modern-day Portswood still has remnants of its past glory, if you look closely. These, along with old photographs and searches through Kelly’s Directories, formed the bones of my story’s world. As usual, my research led me down some interesting rabbit holes and uncovered lots of snippets of information, many of which never made it onto the page. Rather than waste them, I’ll share them with you now.

Mist, bridges, jetties and inspiration

The Millers Pond episode proved to be a turning point, of sorts, for plotting my next book. The Botany Bay, Sholing characters wouldn’t talk to me because the plot didn’t work, no matter how much I tried to make it. As soon as I stopped listening for their voices, I heard the other characters clamouring to have their say. They weren’t in Sholing at all. They were in Eastleigh. On Valentine’s Day, Commando dropped me off outside a foggy Eastleigh Railway Station on his way to work. I hoped walking the five miles home would prove inspiring.

Research rabbit hole ~ Cafe culture 1935 ~ The Bungalow Cafe

When I was writing A Dish Best Served Cold, I needed a fancy cafe where Arthur could hang out. A search of the 1935 Kelly’s Directories showed me a long list of options, but more research told me The Bungalow Cafe, at 157 Above Bar Street — billed as ‘the most up-to-date restaurant in Southampton,’ was the sort of place a show off like Arthur would love. ‘He enjoyed having a pageboy open the door for him. The art déco interior, live music, and waiters ready to cater to his whims made him feel important. This place echoed his aspirations — upmarket, modern, vibrant’. My quest to find out more about it, to paint a picture of Arthur’s regular visits and some of the defining moments of his story, uncovered an interesting tale.

Research rabbit hole ~ Fascism in Southampton 1935

The rise of fascism in Britain and the fear of another war are themes running through my latest book, A Dish Best Served Cold. In 1935, the prospect of another war was unthinkable to most people, but the British Union of Fascists were rapidly gaining popularity, thanks to their charismatic leader. The party had over forty thousand members, attracted by Oswald Mosley’s powerful nationalistic speeches. Thousands gathered to hear him at Blackshirt rallies across the country. In 1934, he was well received when he spoke at the Coliseum on Portland Terrace. That he could fill the town’s largest meeting hall speaks volumes about his popularity.

Beware catfishers, and ten-a-penny Keanus!

I am old enough to remember a time when SPAM meant tinned meat — spiced ham produced in 1937 and popularised during the food shortages of World War II. I remember seeing the Monty Python SPAM sketch for the first time, too. If you haven’t seen it, check it out here. Of course, the sketch came out in the 1970s before the internet existed. It was twenty years before unwanted messages began popping up in ever-increasing numbers, and like the spam on the menu in the Monty Python sketch, drowned out everything else. That was when the word got its modern meaning. This sort of spam was on my mind in the second half of 2022.

M	T	W	T	F	S	S
				1	2	3
4	5	6	7	8	9	10
11	12	13	14	15	16	17
18	19	20	21	22	23	24
25	26	27	28	29	30	31