Tag: Floating Bridge

The little details

The view from the huts at Netley

When writing historic fiction, the little details are the things that bring the story to life. At the beginning of the pandemic I was writing Plagued and I was totally immersed in the world as it was in 1918. I’d read several books of soldiers personal accounts of their time in the trenches, books written by a nurse on the Western Front, details of the chain of evacuation, information about Netley Hospital and about the Spanish Flu. The photographs I found helped me get the feel for what it would have been like, both in France and in England, but it was the little details about the era that made all the difference.

Continue reading The little details

What is, what was and what might have been – first published 5 September 2014

It didn’t look like the best of walking days when I set out on 5 September 2014 but beggars can’t be choosers. The chill in the air and the grey sky made me wrap up in my padded jacket again and, at one point, I was even thinking of taking a hat and gloves. Of course, by the time I got to the top of the Little Hill I was feeling quite hot. This may have had something to do with a neighbour shouting down from the scaffolding outside his house, “you should be running not walking,” as I passed by.
“You’ve got me mixed up with my husband,” I laughed, “I never run.”
Even so I really marched it out up the steep hill and reached the top, breathless, hot and bothered. Continue reading What is, what was and what might have been – first published 5 September 2014

More than one way to cross the Itchen – a postcard from Crosshouse

28 March 2017

We’d had an adventure in Eling and I’d given my knee a good testing, but the walking wasn’t quite over for the day. This evening I had a meeting to attend close to the town end of the Itchen Bridge. Commando needed the car for work but he offered to drop me off in Woolston on his way.  The timings were a little out, meaning I’d be more than a little early, but at least I’d only have to walk across the bridge. Time to kill down by the water there is never time wasted so I didn’t much mind being early.  Continue reading More than one way to cross the Itchen – a postcard from Crosshouse

A new ship in town and a birthday party

8 November 2016

With our Icelandic adventure imminent, It occurred to me I should probably be thinking about getting some Christmas presents this week. Frankly, I’m a little bah humbug about the whole Christmas thing. When the boys were little it was fun but, these days, it all seems too much like an excuse to spend money on things people probably don’t even want and eat too much. To my mind we should all buy one Christmas present for ourselves and leave it at that. Unfortunately, the rest of the world doesn’t agree with me though so this morning was mostly about buying presents.  Continue reading A new ship in town and a birthday party

Woolston waterside, back to my roots

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15 January 2016

Still smiling at memories of happy Playschool mornings I retraced my steps to Swift Road and carried on to its end at the shoreline on Victoria Road. Right on the corner is a wastewater treatment plant callied the Poo Farm by locals. It has been known to give the area a bit of an unfortunate pong from time to time. Recently it’s been extensively modernised so hopefully whiffy Woolston is a thing of the past. It certainly smelled fine when I passed today. Continue reading Woolston waterside, back to my roots

Woolston, a walk down memory lane

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15 January 2016

Friday morning was all blue sky and the first frost of the year. It was too nice not to be out walking So I thought I’d take a little wander back in time to a place I lived for seven years in the 1980’s. Once it was called Olafs tun, after the tenth century Viking leader Olaf I, who established a fortified tun on the east bank of the Itchen. Later this was adapted to Olvestune and this is how it was known in the Domesday Book. Finally it became Woolston, probably as a result of cargos of wool carried across the river from nearby Itchen Ferry Village. What little is left of Itchen Ferry Village is now part of Woolston. Continue reading Woolston, a walk down memory lane

two bridges and an iconic plane – first published 8 June 2013

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The two day weekends were playing havoc with my walking. At the beginning of June I’d planned a twelve or thirteen mile walk  but time was not on my side. Four day weekends made it easy to take one whole day out for walking now it was not so simple. Commando suggested I try a short walk instead. Although I will admit to being a little peeved not to be having the walk I wanted I had to agree his plan made sense. The decision was made and I set about finding an interesting shorter walk using Walkjogrun. Continue reading two bridges and an iconic plane – first published 8 June 2013

Perfect light

Crosshouse
Crosshouse

15 February 2015

When I told Commando about my Sunday walk and how I hadn’t actually made it to the old floating bridge slipway he looked puzzled.
“But you went to Crosshouse?” he asked.
“Yes but I wasn’t all that sure how to get to the slipway. From the map I could see it was really nearby but I had run out of tissues and I thought I’d probably get lost wandering through all the little streets in Ocean Village trying to get to it. Besides, it looked like it was going to rain.”
“I see,” he said.
“It’ll still be there another day,” I told him. “I might even go back next week if I get time.” Continue reading Perfect light

Spitfires, a ferry, a lost village, and a pear tree

The Yacht pub
The Yacht pub

9 February 2015

In the end, instead of climbing back up the slippery bank I decided to carry on a little further. This may well have been another procrastination device to avoid the muddy ascent but it proved to be more interesting than I expected. Of course, I’ve walked this way many times but, even on a familiar walk, there can be surprise discoveries. Passing the Yacht Pub where people were enjoying a Sunday lunch time drink in the winter sun, I made towards the slipway and the little park where the Itchen ferry boats used to come and go. Continue reading Spitfires, a ferry, a lost village, and a pear tree