Northam Bridge – I Walk Alone

More Change – the demise of the gasworks

My walk over the bridge at Mount Pleasant on 1 February got me thinking about the old gasworks. I’d seen the gasometer from my rickety perch on the footbridge and wondered how much longer the familiar landmark would be around. For years, there’d been rumblings about the gasometers being demolished since Southern Gas Networks no longer use them and maintaining them is costly. I wrote about them and took several photos on a walk back in 2017. In 2022, when they announced they really were going, local residents had mixed feelings about their demise. Some saw them as an eyesore, others a piece of history. Personally, I sat somewhere in between. I knew the demolition work had started, so on 7 February, I thought I’d have a closer look while there was still a chance.

The cycle of change

The Mount Pleasant footbridge featured in my first novel, Plagued, and I often cross it on my walks. Despite recent makeshift repairs, it has become alarmingly rickety of late, so it was no great surprise to learn it was due to be replaced. Precisely what this entailed wasn’t clear, but I’d heard work would begin in February and involved closing the road. So, on 1 February, I went for one last look before it was too late.

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.

Two bridges and a boardwalk

This weekend I was having a spring clean of my blog and spotted a post I wrote back in September 2019, but somehow, never got round to posting. It was the story of one of my Clarendon Marathon training walks with Kim. Why I didn’t post it is a mystery, but, waste not want not, I’m posting it now, three years late.

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.

Mount Pleasant

The next stop on my 11 April walk was Mount Pleasant, the area tucked away between Bevois Valley and Northam. It’s so tiny, more or less just one road and an industrial estate, that the name doesn’t even appear on the map. Nice as it sounds, the name Mount Pleasant usually has ironic origins and Mount Pleasant in Southampton is no exception. At risk of offending the locals, it is about as far as it’s possible to get from a mount — being at sea level right on the edge of the River Itchen — and it isn’t exactly pleasant either. In fact it’s right on the edge of Southampton’s most notorious red light district. Having said that, the little terraced houses are lovely and the area has a very interesting history. This was what I’d come to explore.

The lost estates of Bitterne – Chessel

With all the editing on Plagued complete, and publishing wheels in motion, I needed a break from looking at screens, zoom calls and fiddling about with old photographs to come up with cover art. In fact I needed a break from thinking about 1918 altogether. July 2021 was almost over, COVID restrictions had been lifted but I didn’t feel ready to throw caution to the winds. Instead I decided to walk the perimeter of one of Southampton’s lost estates, the Chessel Estate in Bitterne.

Not thinking

My decision not to think about all the media hype over the pandemic was proving far more difficult than expected. Not thinking is, it would seem, a physical impossibility and the only way to not think about one thing is to think really hard about something else. Well, that and walking. So, on 16 September 2020, I set off on another river walk. This time I decided to tackle the old two bridge challenge route.

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.

Mixed blessings

Northam Road, Southampton early 20th century

Those of us born in England after the middle of the last century have been privileged to live in relatively prosperous and peaceful times. We may have had our trials and tribulations and seen many changes but, until COVID19 arrived, our lives had not been touched by famines, plagues, or world wars. For most of us it came as a shock to realise that we were not immune to such events, our science and technology was not invincible. Each of us had to cope as best we could. For me, the writing project I’d begun in 2019 helped keep my mind occupied but, in some ways, it was a mixed blessing.