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.
Wrapped in many layers of clothes to combat the cold, walking was slow work. I reached The Avenue and stood for a while looking up and down the road, but no trams materialised and I couldn’t quite imagine them. Maybe if a bus had come past it might have helped. A bit of warmth and sunshine would have been useful too as the story was mostly set in the summer. It was clear that the mission was doomed before it even started, so I crossed the road and tried to enjoy just walking.
The trouble was, everything was mud and fallen leaves, my boots were a bit leaky and I’m not exactly renowned for my sure-footedness. In the end I abandoned the muddy trails and headed back to the Beyond Graffiti Tunnel. The tunnel is a relatively modern construction. It certainly wasn’t there in 1935, and if it had been, it wouldn’t have been covered in spray paint graffiti. The word ‘graffiti’ was coined in 1851, it came from the Italian word ‘graffito,’ meaning scratched and, back then, scratched was exactly what it was. Historic graffiti, like that seen in the Wool House, or on the D-Day wall, is almost always etched into brick, or stone. It was more like the tags you see on bus stops and in public toilets these days, variations on ”so-and-so was here,’ crude drawings and rude doggerel.
It was the invention of canned spray paint that gave us our modern day graffiti. We have Edward Seymour, of Chicago, or rather his wife, Bonnie, to thank for that. In 1949, Bonnie suggested using an aerosol can filled with paint to demonstrate the new aluminium paint he’d developed. Edward ran with the idea and the spray can was invented. Of course, the only colour available was aluminium. He patented the idea in 1951, but it wasn’t until the late 1970’s that spray can graffiti really took off. The thick layers of paint on the walls of the Beyond Graffiti Tunnel are testament to just how popular it has become.
There were a few new pieces of work in the tunnel, so I strolled through admiring them and taking photographs of the best (in my opinion). Nothing lasts forever here so I like to visit every so often and capture pieces of work for posterity. I know it’s all likely to be gone when I next visit, although some pieces stay up longer than others. I was especially taken with the panda and I hoped he’d be there for a while.
By the time I emerged onto the Common again I could see a steady stream of park runners in the distance. Not wishing to have to dash between them, I decided to take a slightly different route back to the finish line. It didn’t take long to work out this had been a mistake.
To say the ground was muddy would have been an understatement. The railway sleeper bridge over Rollesbrook was surrounded on either side by thick, gloopy mud. I hesitated. In fact I almost turned back, but I thought I could see a relatively solid way through and some firm ground along the trail ahead. Slowly, I inched my way towards the bridge and crossed. It was a mistake.
Not only was the solid ground a lot less solid than it looked, but, when I finally slipped and slid my way to the end of the trail, I was faced with yet more park runners. What is it they say about the best laid plans? In the end, I hung around, scraping the worst of the mud from my soggy boots and looking at a bright splash of colour provided by autumn leaves until the last of the park runners went past. I might have also cheered a few of them while I waited. At least it took my mind off my publishing worries.
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It seems strange to see The Avenue with so little traffic, as you say, difficult to imagine trams trundling along.
I’ve never yet managed to get to see the Beyond Graffiti tunnel but one day I will but probably by then that lovely panda will be gone.
One thing I really don’t like is walking through mud. Slipping and sliding isn’t good for my back problem and I always have the fear of falling (something I am likely to do quite frequently) or even losing a boot!
It’s surprising how quiet the Avenue can be early on a Saturday morning. The panda has already gone, sadly, but there’s almost always something good to see in the tunnel. As for mud, I hate it too, especially that moment when you begin to slip. I did once almost lose a boot too, but that was on the Itchen Navigation.
There was a panda there this morning when I ran through the underpass. And I photographed it whilst taking a breather from the downpour.
I spent much of my childhood rescuing wellies from the Itchen, but the estuary rather than the Navigation. It never ceased to amaze me how adults got so excited about my coming home with a boot full of brine.
I love that there’s always something different to see. It must be a new panda, because the old one had gone when I last looked. How on earth do wellies end up in the river? I often see single shoes on the street and I can’t get my head round how it happens.
Ahh, the glory of parkrun. I’m a regular on the Common.
For the record the Southampton parkrun was the second most popular in in the UK (after Bushy Park near Twickenham) before the Coronavirus Lockdown – regularly attracting over one-thousand participants.
As you almost certainly know (I’ve read a few of your posts and you do know what you are talking about) the stretch of trail you ventured down was a section of the old horse race course. One supposes that the “bridge” was somewhat wider back then.
Thanks for local knowledge. It is appreciated.
Thanks. I don’t run but I live with a runner who either runs, or volunteers most weeks. He and his friend, the Southampton parkrun Event Director, run a running club, Hamwic Harriers. I think parkrun is actually better with less people. When I think back to those mad mornings with 1600+ runners, I cannot believe we did it. I have a map somewhere showing the race track on the common. I wrote about it for one of my parkrun run reports a while back. Odd to think of horses racing there though.