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.
My walk home from town took me along Old Northam Road, in an area known locally as Six Dials. This is still one of the busiest junctions in the city, where Northam Road, St Andrews Road, New Road and Kingsway converge. Once upon a time, though, there really were six roads meeting at Six Dials — Northam Road, St Mary’s Street, New Road, St Andrews Road, St Mary’s Road and St Mark’s Road — and that is where the name came from. The road I walked down in the mist may be called Old Northam Road today, but it was once simply Northam Road. This changed in the 1960s when a large new gyratory was built to accommodate the growing traffic problem. The new system included a new road, Kingsway. The gyratory was, in turn, swept away by a stretch of dual carriageway in the 1980s.
These changes left the section of Northam Road from the railway bridge to St Mary’s Street cut off from the main flow of traffic. The little parade of shops became isolated, a kind of island trapped in time. In Land Fit For Heroes, when Percy ran up St Mary’s Street towards Six Dials, he would have had five roads to choose from when he crossed. Today, he’d probably have been run over, even in the middle of the night. Thankfully, there is an underpass these days, or I might not have made it home in one piece.
The shops were once thriving businesses where local people did their shopping. You could buy everything you needed, almost on your doorstep. It is also where Jones, the tobacconist had his shop. Although the shop and Mr Jones were real, the robbery in Land Fit For Heroes was a figment of my imagination. The shops are still there today. At a glance, especially in the mist, they look much as they looked back then, and a walk down Old Northam Road is like stepping back in time. Sadly, most are no longer in business, which is a terrible shame.
Over the last two decades, there have been rumblings about regenerating the area and turning it into an antiques quarter. There are still a few antique shops open, but, to date, there has been a lot of talk but no action. Instead, more and more shops have closed, and the street has slowly begun to decay. It used to be such a thriving area, filled with quirky businesses, like the Dolls Hospital, where my sick dolls went to be mended. A look at the Kelly’s Directory for 1960 confirms the Dolls Hospital was run by a Mrs E S Clements at number 15 Northam Road.
The pub on what would once have been the junction of Northam Road, Britnons Road and Derby Road is called The King Alfred today. When it opened in 1878, it was called The Glebe. The Alfred Arms once stood on the opposite side of the road at number 82. I imagine the modern name is a nod to this. The King Alfred was perfectly placed for pre-match drinks. I have happy memories of sitting outside on a sunny Saturday afternoon before going to the stadium. The covered bridge leading to St Mary’s Stadium, home of Southampton Football Club, is a few yards from the door. Sadly, the pub did not survive the pandemic.
Just beyond the covered bridge is the railway bridge, built by the Northam Bridge Company when the railways first came to Southampton. Through the rusting iron struts of the bridge, I got a glimpse of the spot where the Northam railway station used to be, along with a hazy look at the football stadium. If I’d looked through the same iron struts back in 1926, I’d have also seen Melbourne Street, where my grandparents Laura and Leonard White lived and where my mother spent the first years of her life. The Bell and Crown pub, the starting and ending point for Land Fit For Heroes, was at the end of the road. More information and photographs about the old station and the railway bridge can be found here.
Next to the football stadium are the last remnants of the gasworks. Southampton was one of the first towns to have a gas supply. The gasworks and the first gasometer — the big cylindrical storage tanks — were built in 1819/20 by a local firm, Barlow Brothers. The gas was created by burning coal, making the area smoky, smelly and a rather unpleasant place to live. The upside to the smell, the black smuts and the threat of explosion if something went wrong was coke, the by-product of burning the coal. I’ve heard many tales of local ladies going to the gasworks to load their prams with coke for their fires. My grandmother was probably one of them.
Another bonus of the gasworks was that they brought gas street lighting to the town. The gas lamps were supported on iron pillars donated by local MP William Chamberlain (or Chamberlayne) of Weston Grove. On 26 September 1940, in the late afternoon, the people living near the gasworks had a very lucky escape — at least most of them did. More than fifty Luftwaffe planes flew over the town. Their targets were the Supermarine works on one side of the Itchen and the gasworks on the other. Fifty people died, most of them civilians. Five houses on Melbourne Street were hit, and thirteen residents were killed. If the bombs had hit the gasometers, most of Northam would have disappeared. Of course, that is a tale for another book, but it will be a while before Siren Song is published.
Not far from the other side of the railway bridge, right opposite the end of Radcliffe Road, is another abandoned pub, The Engineers Arms. The pub stood on the corner of Belvedere Terrace — now Wilson Street — and opened in the 1850s as The Victoria’s Arms. In the 1870s, the name changed to the Engineers Arms when Mr J Masters, an engine driver, took over as the landlord. Last orders were finally called in 1982, and, until recently, it was being used by a company that made dentures. Today it is empty, but the sign over the door still remains, along with the beautiful tiles beneath the windows. Wouldn’t it be lovely if it became a pub again?
The last stop, on what was slowly beginning to feel like a pub crawl without any actual drinking, was the Prince of Wales, on the corner of Princes Street. Had I wanted a drink, this was one of the few pubs on my walk still serving beer. The Prince of Wales has been open since at least 1871. Thankfully, it shows no signs of closing. As it features in several of the books I’m yet to publish, I probably should pay it a visit one of these days.
Shortly after I left the Prince of Wales, I reached the river. My walk was almost over, and the mist finally appeared to be lifting. Someone was having fun on the water in a RIB. I watched them from the middle of the bridge, and not for the first time, I thought having a little boat would save me an awful lot of walking. The peculiar bike rusting away on the bridge had been moved. Now, it was leaning against the wire fence. Could someone be using it?
The river here is a veritable boat graveyard littered with rotting hulks. Every time I pass, there seem to be more of them. I’ve often wondered why someone would abandon something as expensive as a boat. Recently, there have been rumblings about the council clearing them away, so I thought I’d take a few photographs before they disappeared. While I understand why people might want all the boats moved, I have to admit it’s interesting to watch this ever-changing landscape of wrecks on my walks.
I left the river behind with one final look at the old wooden skeleton ship. If the council do clear away the wrecks, I hope they leave this one. It has been slowly rotting all my life, and I enjoy watching its slow return to the river. It had been a long and thought-provoking walk, but I was looking forward to getting home and dry. The mist might make for some lovely photographs, but it also makes for a very damp walk.
If you like what I write, and you’re interested in my novels are available now on Amazon in paperback, on Kindle and via Kindle Unlimited. Check out my Amazon page here and my Goodreads page here. If you would like to help me keep writing, you can now buy me a virtual coffee by clicking on the little orange coffee cup at the bottom right.
Thank you, I was taking back 50yrs within a few paragraphs, lived in Brintons Rd that back on to St Peters Rd the house now demolished for road. My playground, Also those public houses, The Alfred a 16 year old my first I’ll leave it there. Thanks again.
Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed reading and I brought back some happy memories. My grandparents lived in Radcliffe Road before the war.
Have people always been nostalgic about the past, or is it a 21st century thing?
I’m pretty sure people have always been interested in history.
History? That’s national stuff, I meant personal stuff. My parents never talked about their childhood, and when their parents died they never visited or talked about the places they had lived in, whereas I am always looking in Google at the streets I used to live in. I suppose I have the technology to do it, and I don’t have neighbours to gossip with, whereas my mother always gossiped with her neighbours.
History isn’t only the national stuff. In fact, most ordinary people weren’t aware of most of the national stuff. History is personal stories and recollections. If all we had was national stuff about the past we would know next to nothing about ordinary people and only a sanitised version of the ruling classes.
OK that’s true.
Remember it so well a very happy community
Thank you
Very enjoyable read Marie,about an area I don’t know very well.Just to point out,the spelling of the Southampton MP is Chamberlayne not Chamberlain
You are correct — William Chamberlayne (1760–1829) was Member of Parliament for Southampton from 1818 until his death. Whilst serving the town, William Chamberlayne was also chairman of the company supplying gas lighting to the town of Southampton and donated the iron columns for the new gas street-lights. In 1822, the townspeople erected a memorial consisting of an iron Doric column; this still stands in the middle of a roundabout near the city centre. — However, both spellings are regularly used and Southampton City Council refers to it as the Chamberlain Gas Column (https://www.southampton.gov.uk/news/article/southampton-s-monuments-are-given-a-summer-sparkle/), which is why I have used the spelling I have.
I see Marie,I know the actual Gas column has it spelt correctly
Spellings of names are often varied when you look at the past. My own family tree has several variations of the surname spelling on official documents, sometimes by the same person in different years – Haley, Hailey, Hayley even Halley. I imagine levels of literacy played some part, but also trends of the times.
Yes,they can be Marie.My surname in my family was spelt Knollys in the 15th Century.But the Chamberlaynes have always spelt their name that way
Nobody knew the correct spelling of my mothers surname, either Smotkin or Smodkin, as she was born in Russia and her father was illiterate (signed the 1921 census form with a cross). When my father died I went to Somerset House and found he had married two women on the same day, Esther Smodkin and Esther Smotkin. In official documents of the pre-war (2) period members of the family used different spellings.
I have relatives on several Irish Census documents who signed with a cross and were illiterate. The spelling of the surname is different on almost every document, Shiels, Sheils, Sheil, Shiel. It has made searching for them quite difficult, but I suppose they were working on phonetics.
You’re fortunate you can search in Irish documents, I cant search in Russian documents, because I don’t read Russian and I guess there were no documents for illiterate peasants ( I met a guy whose grandparents also came from Russia and they were literate professionals, and he said he had lots of documents abut them).
From what I’ve read the Russians were fanatical about documenting everything and keeping track of everyone. If you are able to find any documentation, maybe someone could help you translate them. I imagine they would make interesting reading.
Earlier than my mother or her mother it gets to the point where I have no emotional link either with them or the place they lived or the work they did. I was born in Leeds during ww2 and I looked up one street I lived in. I remembered it as a dark narrow street with 2 up-2 down houses with a corner shop selling groceries. It is now a four lane highway full of estate agents and take-away restaurants. No relationship to my life at all. I think it would be the same if I could find out about people in Russia.
Perhaps you’re right. Although I’ve enjoyed looking into my family’s past.
Just realised you are a published writer. Well done! About ten years ago I wrote a book about my life as a student at Southampton U in the 1960’s, got about 50 rejects, one or two decent replies – it may be because there was too much sex in it (not me, my imagination of what the others were doing). Good luck.
Thank you.
The Alfred was closed well before the pandemic! Plus this area has been overlooked for years,as one man owns most properties but this has been kept hidden! Anywhere else would have a order put on the properties but not here WHY?
I assumed it was closed due to the pandemic, like so many pubs. I’m not sure about the ownership of the properties, but it is a shame that all the promises of regeneration never came to anything.