Thickening the plot

Kim and I wandered down Cutbush Lane towards Mansbridge talking about the things we’d seen in Marhill Copse. We both agreed that the signs, both literal and figurative, looked promising for this little piece of woodland. We walked past Gaters Mill, and down the hill towards the White Swan. The sky was overcast but it was a warm day. The meadows were bright with wildflowers. If it wasn’t for the tarmac road, lampposts and crash barriers, we might have stepped back in time to when this was all farmland and copses and the Itchen Navigation still carried barges filled with wool and coal.

We passed the pub and carried on towards the trail that runs through Monks Brook. Instead of heading up towards Wide Lane and the Fleming Arms we crossed the green bridge and stopped for a while in the churchyard. This church is one of the two remaining medieval churches in Southampton, so it’s bursting with history. Sadly, the door was closed today and we didn’t have the chance to look inside but I did tell Kim about the day, back in 2015, when I’d been shown around the church and held a silver chalice, dating from 1630, in my trembling hands.

We had a little wander around the graveyard, because you know I can never resist an old grave, and then we carried on to Wessex Lane. This would normally be the parting of our ways, but I had other things I wanted to see so we carried on across the railway bridge to Portswood Road. Kim now had her long uphill walk home and I had a more circuitous route ahead.

At the beginning of the month I’d taken a walk in Portswood to research a few things for the book I was writing. I’d had a look at the place Amey’s Laundry used to be and checked that the views from a certain corner tied up with what I’d written. Since then I’d written quite a bit more and, now, another pivotal moment in the tale involved Portswood Road. Every writer has their own way of doing things. Some plan things out in meticulous detail before they begin to write, others have a vague idea and work it out as they go along. I am somewhere between the two. While I may start with a plan, often inspired by historical events, when I begin to write, my characters sometimes have other ideas. When I’m plotting and writing, I often look at the old OS maps and compare them to modern Google Maps. Sometimes I even use Street View to help me get an idea of what buildings look like, or what can be seen from a certain place. There is no substitute for going to see in real life though. Today my focus was a little further down Portswood Road.

Sadly, this end of Portswood Road has changed a lot since the 1930’s. but there are still a few interesting old buildings if you look for them. The little parade of shops opposite the ends of Mayfield Road and Broadlands Road are a case in point. Back in the mid 1930’s there was a tobacconist, drugstore, drapers, Co-op butchers, grocer, fishmonger and ironmonger along here, in these same buildings. A sign above one told me that at least some of them were built in 1922 and the pride taken by the builders is plain to see.

What I’d really come to see was a little further up the road towards Portswood. I was especially interested in a little cut way I’d spotted on the OS map. It was opposite the end of Sirdar Road and would have led to the backs of the houses on Belgrave Road. The cut way and the houses are now long gone, but I wanted to get an idea of the views my characters would have had and whether they would really have seen what I wanted them to, and more importantly, whether they would have been seen. If you are going to commit a crime, or witness one, being seen or not can make all the difference.

As far as I could tell, the cut way would have been between Locke’s Fried Fish shop and Sanger’s Hairdressers. Neither of those shops exist any more but they were important to my story. The cut way was even more important because I planned for it to be the scene of a crime. So, I stood on the corner of Sirdar Road and tried to imagine it was dark and I was sitting in a car watching. Opposite there was a gate between two modern buildings, right where the cut way would have been. Beyond it I could just see the backs of the buildings on Belgrave Road.

Back in the mid 1930’s there were terraced houses on Belgrave Road. I’d like to have seen what they looked like but they are long gone now. The old maps tell me they were in blocks of ten or twelve with alleyways between leading to the back yards, and old photographs paint the rest of the picture. In truth, it was the cut way and the view from Sirdar Road that was really important and I was happy that my plot worked, so I headed up towards the middle of Portswood to make my way home.

Feeling quite pleased with myself, I plodded back towards Kent Road, taking note of the remaining terraced houses on this stretch of road. Between the wars, most of Portswood would have looked like this, minus the wheelie bins of course. Soon I’d reached the church, where my last exploration of Portswood began. This was where this one ended.

I walked under the railway bridge towards the planters, thinking about my story, imagining dialog, trying to put myself in the shoes of my characters. At this stage, I wasn’t really thinking about where I was going. I’d planned to follow in the footsteps of my previous walk and have another look at my great grandparents old house. My feet had other ideas.

Somehow I managed to turn off onto Priory Road without noticing. It wasn’t a great disaster because it would still take me home. In fact, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I noticed I’d gone wrong when I spotted a rather beautiful tiled sign on the side of a building. I’d stumbled upon the St Denys Hotel, on the corner of Aberdeen Road. Sadly the pub closed for good after a fire in 2010. It now looks as if it has been converted into flats but I’m glad that lovely sign remains.

Once upon a time there were pubs like this on almost every street corner in the town. They were where the local people gathered for a drink, a sing song, a game of dominoes, or a chat. This was where working men relaxed before the invention of television and the internet. The St Denys Hotel might not have been what I came to see, but I’m very glad I saw it. Who knows, it might feature in a book in the future.

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