Six years today since I came to Southsea and picked up the keys for the flat. It was a Thursday, and the sun was shining, I think it was probably a bit warmer than today, but the wind must have been cold, because it always is. I walked out of the flat, five minutes to the sea, through the Rock Gardens, onto the prom, past the pier (which was closed for renovations), along the beach, I might have crossed the road and gone through Canoe Lake Park and into the Rose Garden from the other side, then back out onto the prom again – I’m not quite sure, but I vaguely remember reading the notice about the Cockle Shell Heroes and sitting on a bench for a while, reminiscing about the rose gardens in Prague.
I’m getting a massive sense of déjà vu now, not so much about the actual moving day but because I think I must have written about this every 30th April for the last five years, and I’m sure I’ve read it not that long ago. I stayed overnight on a camp bed in the flat then drove back up to Bedford the next day to collect the rental van and fill it with stuff, then on the day after that I drove down in my car with my ginger cat in a basket on the seat beside me, via Guildford, where I picked up my son, while my daughter and her then partner (now husband) drove down in the van, which had to be parked at the end of the road, because there was no room outside the flat, and the furniture and other stuff carried through the drizzle and up the stairs into the flat.
Every year I feel as though I should mark this date in some way, which I’ve done today by going for a walk, retracing some of the steps of the first day – except that that was really a coincidence because I only thought about it when I was sitting on the bench behind the café drinking coffee from my flask (because the café doesn’t open till nine on week days).
What I did think about when I was walking was how my regular walking route has changed from when I lived in the flat. That first day I walked along the beach to the Coffee Cup and then turned inland, and walked past the cemetery and along the road which passes the end of the road where I live now, past all the shops and then the traffic lights where I turned back towards the sea again. That first summer, my walks were mostly in the opposite direction from where I was today, through the Rock Gardens, past the castle and across Southsea Common towards Portsmouth Harbour. Over the last year, while I haven’t even been going to the swimming pool, I’ve stopped going over that way altogether.
Maybe it’s time to start revisiting some of my old haunts again.