Dull, dismal September Sunday afternoons are made for snuggling up with a good book. This is especially true if you have spent Sunday morning out on a long run, maybe another practice circuit of the Winchester Half Marathon course. Even if you’ve had the first lie in you can remember for ages wind, thick grey cloud and a forecast of rain later doesn’t exactly entice you outside. This Sunday afternoon though, despite all of the above, Commando and I were huddled on the Woolston waterfront looking up at the Itchen Bridge and we weren’t alone. A group of intrepid Spitfire explorers were slowly gathering. Continue reading The Summer Streetmate Challenge
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
Yesterday morning I slept in and didn’t go to parkrun. Commando rang me at about ten o’clock to say he was going straight into town because he felt like some retail therapy.
“I’ll walk over to meet you if you like,” I suggested, thinking there might be a coffee in it for me.
As it happened there was no coffee involved whatsoever. When I rang him to say I was walking through the parks Commando said he was in Ed’s Diner on the top floor of WestQuay having a milkshake.
“They are amazing,” he said, “like heaven in a glass. If you hurry I’ll get you one.” Continue reading A steep learning curve and a big change
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
Given my cold and the need to keep fairly close to a box of tissues at all times, I didn’t think it would be wise to wander too far from home for my Sunday walk. After much umming and ahing and a little poring over maps I decided on Crosshouse. It fit in very well with last week’s walk and, if I got tired or ran out of tissues, I could wander up into town for a sit down. This meant I started off much the same as last week with a walk to the green and then across it. Still, even if you take the same walk every day there’s always something new to see and this was no exception. Continue reading Crossing the river to Crosshouse
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