I Walk Alone – Page 3 – The World One Step At A Time

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.

Where is my bench?

Friday 13 January may not have been the most auspicious of dates for my inaugural 2023 walk, but it was the first non-stormy day that I felt well enough to risk venturing further than the local shops. It was still cold and windy, so I planned a route that gave me plenty of chances to cut things short if the weather turned nasty or my post-Covid tiredness got the better of me. I began with a slow stroll along the cut way beside the old St Mary’s College playing fields. I wanted to see if building work had started on the site since the College closed.

Research Rabbit Hole ~ East Street & The Ditches 1935

East Street looking towards St Mary’s Street 1930s

Known locally as the Ditches, Southampton’s East Street and Canal Walk play an important part in my latest novel, A Dish Best Served Cold. East Street dates back to the days of the medieval town when it led from English Street (now the High Street) to Bag Row (now St Mary’s Street) and linked the medieval town with the Anglo-Saxon settlement of Hamwic. Of course, modern-day East Street is nothing like the street in my novel. The Southampton blitz saw to that.

Not the best of starts

At some point between Christmas and New Year, the dreaded Coronavirus finally caught up with Commando and he, being a sharing kind of man, kindly passed it on to me. Thankfully, for all concerned, it was not nearly as bad as expected. Yes, it was worse than the cold I had a few weeks earlier, although with less snottiness, hacking, and coughing. The main feature appears to have been tiredness, a woolly head incapable of concentrating for any length of time and a few olfactory anomalies that have made eating an interesting venture.

My top indie reads of 2022

Writers usually begin life as readers. My love of books began long before I could read, with bedtime stories and Sunday mornings in Mum and Dad’s bed, with Dad reading chapters of books aloud. In fact, it was why I wanted to learn to read. One chapter at a time was never enough. If I could read, I could keep going until the end. Soon, visits to the children’s library became the highlight of my week. This year I have been mainly reading other independent authors, and boy, what wonderful stories I’ve discovered. Such a change from the formulaic tomes churned out by the big publishing houses. Anyway, for my last post of the year, I thought I’d share some of my favourites with you. I’ve included the links, so you can read along if you like.

More Monks Brook at Valley Park Chandler’s Ford

At the end of June, Commando took me along for the ride when he went to a training event at Up and Running in Chandler’s Ford. Obviously, I wasn’t interested in learning about running shoes, but the nearby footpath leading to Valley Park and five (or six according to some sources) parcels of woodland did capture my attention, especially as Monks brook ran through them. So, I waved goodbye to Commando, then set off to find the footpath and make the most of the next hour or so.

Sneak preview ~ A Dish Best Served Cold

You may have noticed that I’ve been quiet for the last couple of weeks. This is partly down to a horrible cold and a great deal of snuggling under a blanket, feeling sorry for myself whilst coughing and sneezing. I have also been busy reading through proofs and approving cover designs for my next novel, A Dish Best Served Cold. The book is set in Southampton in 1935 and features, amongst other things, a famous gold robbery at Croydon Airport. I promise I will tell you more about the research that went into this book later, but for now, I will give you a sneak preview to whet your appetite.

Research rabbit hole ~ population control 1931

Daisy Woodman, the inspiration for my third book, Seventh Daughter, was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. She was one of nine children, and her mother, Florence Weaver, was one of eleven. Large families were nothing out of the ordinary in the early 1900s, but family sizes decreased dramatically in the first half of the twentieth century. Today, a seventh daughter would be a very rare thing indeed, and this is, in part, due to a book, Married Love, written by Marie Stopes in 1918. Marie Stopes’ book didn’t contain any new or revolutionary information about contraception, it simply made it available to the masses.

Silence, sacrifice surprises and swans

One of the first things people notice when entering the Old Cemetery’s main gates is the Cross of Sacrifice. It stands alone, in front of the Church of England chapel, signifying that Commonwealth War Graves are present. In fact, the cemetery contains 127 graves from the two world wars and others from earlier wars, including the Battle of Waterloo, the Charge of the Light Brigade, the Indian Mutiny and the Boer War, along with many Titanic graves. It was also the reason I chose the Old Cemetery as the halfway point in my morning walk with CJ on 11 November.

Hares of Hampshire

Today, I thought I’d brighten the dismal November gloom and take you back to June, when the sun was shining and the streets of Southampton were full of hares. Of course, there weren’t real hares hopping about. It was another wonderful art trail, like the rhinos, zebras and deckchairs we’ve had in the past. Because of Commando‘s unfortunate tussle with a blue bin lorry, we almost missed them, but a week or so later, he felt up for a walk, so we headed to town for a touch of hare spotting.