Cobden Bridge – I Walk Alone

Twenty-two, seventy-six and a ninety-nine

We Brits are famous for talking about the weather. It’s true, we do. There’s a good reason for this obsession. Although our little island rarely experiences the extreme weather other places have to contend with, ours is far from consistent. There are no guaranteed warm, dry summers, winter doesn’t necessarily mean snow, rain is always around the corner and it’s quite normal to get all four seasons in one day. When extremes do happen, we’re really not geared up for it. Our houses don’t have air conditioning and there are no snow ploughs or chains for car tyres. The last week has been a tad on the warm side. In fact, the Met Office recorded a record UK temperature of 40.3°C on 19 July. The media gleefully catastrophised. There were headlines like ‘How the heatwave broke Britain,’ and ‘Gates of Hell are opening.’ If it hadn’t been so warm, the men with sandwich boards would surely have been walking up and down, proclaiming that the end of the word was nigh. When people began saying it was far worse than the famous summer of 1976, eye-rolling in our house reached danger levels.

Mostly boats and a ghost

On 19 January 2022, I had been writing about boats and boatyards, so I had boats on my mind. I’d also been thinking about the maritime history of my city. In the days when I travelled the world, whenever I mentioned my home town, people would smile and talk about cruise ships and containers. In Malta, I was told, ‘Everything we have here comes on a ship from Southampton.’ Although I’ve never been a sailor or taken a cruise, I have lived with the sound of seagulls and foghorns all my life, and I can’t imagine not having the sea on my doorstep.

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.

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.

On the cusp

On 14 September 2020, I set off for an early morning walk along the river. It was one of those mornings that felt like the cusp between summer and autumn. A slight haze of mist hung over the water but the sun was trying to burn it off. When I reached the bay there were swans and ship’s masts, plus the merest hint of pink clinging on from the dawn. We’d made it to mid September. Schools were open again, the furlough scheme was coming to an end and the Chancellor was making promises that there would be no ‘horror show’ of tax rises to cover the financial impact of COVID19.

Twenty Miles

12 September 2019

When I set out this morning to meet Kim it was perfect walking weather, dry, cool and slightly overcast. This was good news because we had a very long walk ahead of us. Marathon training plans suggest a longest run or walk of between twenty and twenty two miles, followed by a tapering period of around three weeks. As we have just over three weeks left before the big day, today woul be our last really long walk. The plan was to cover twenty miles.

Another kayak adventure

2 September 2019

Last summer Commando and a group of friends tried kayaking for the first time. They had a whale of a time and all agreed they should make kayaking trips a regular thing. Various pieces of equipment were purchased, including a wetsuit. There was even some talk about buying a kayak. Somehow though, getting everyone together at the same time when the weather and the tides were right proved impossible. Today Commando decided to grasp the last gasp of this summer and go alone.

A locked gate update

28 July 2019

A while ago I told you about the saga of the locked gates on the river near the boardwalk. Some time ago I discovered the gates to the waterside walkway behind the Millennium Flats, once part of my daily walk to work, had been suddenly locked, apparently due to antisocial behaviour on the path. The residents of the flats then applied to the council for permission to lock the gates permanently. The case was heard on 16 July. Permission was denied. The residents were told the gates must be kept open, at least during daylight hours. Reason had, it seemed, prevailed. Today I thought I’d take a little walk to see if the locks had been removed.

Rights of way

10 July 2019

One of the great joys in my life is walking in the quiet places. I am a connoisseur of secluded little cut ways, hidden footpaths, trails and walkways. Finding a way to get from a to b that doesn’t involve walking along a road makes me smile, especially when it is beside a river. On my walks I’m always on the lookout for these hidden gems and the ones I know I use regularly, even if they add miles to my walks. Today I chose a route bursting at the seams with away from the road delights for my early morning walk. Unfortunately some of them are not as accessible as they should be though.

Slip sliding to the final running school 28 August

28 August 2018

Today was my final Running School session and I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or sad. The previous sessions had all been extremely tough, pushing me to my limits but there was something almost enjoyable, in a masochistic way, about being tested and getting through it. Maybe enjoyable isn’t the right word and maybe the joy part when they were over was more about having survived. Either way, I set off this morning with mixed feelings. For once there was a good chance of getting wet along the way and I was actually wearing a thin raincoat. Continue reading Slip sliding to the final running school 28 August

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