West Quay

Deferred Gratification

A most unfortunate consequence of having discovered that your iMac is very nearly obsolete, and deciding to investigate the possibility of buying a new one, is that, if you live near Southampton, that means another visit to West Quay shopping centre. This morning, to that galaxy in the sky we boldly went.

What neither of us had realised on our previous trips, is that West Quay is a specific building. We knew the Apple Store was in West Quay, but thought that term referred to the entire complex, including people like IKEA who have their own building. Having parked and found the first payment machine out of order, we asked a helpful parking attendant where to find both machine and computer outlet.

He directed us to a multi-story carpark where we should take a lift to Level 7, walk across a bridge, and enter the largest shopping mall I think I have had to negotiate. This vast collection of outlets was on several floors served by escalators. Actually I hadn’t taken the lift, but had joined Jackie on level 7. There were a number of Apple logos on the landings of the staircase, so that looked optimistic.

All we had to do was find the Apple Store. There were helpful information screens showing the location of shops at the touch of a button. This was some help. Only some. Even Jackie was thrown by the confusion created by this device. Apple was shown as a narrow shop next to H & M and close to John Lewis. But John Lewis was on two separate floors. Ok, we could check them both. Apple was nowhere near the ground floor one. Ground floor, you understand, is really a misnomer, because we were still at level 7, already approaching the heavens. So we tried the upper floor. No joy. But another helpful customer overheard our deliberations. She knew that H & M was around the corner. Which it was. With Apple next door. Nowhere near the location given on the screen.

Then it got easier. Joe was immediately on hand. Which was a miracle considering how full the store was. He explained very simply what I needed, and set up a new machine for me. When he offered me the usual extra three year insurance, I declined it on the grounds that at the rate things were going the new computer would be obsolete by the end of three years. Joe was very amused at this, and acknowledged that it wasn’t so daft.

We had planned to do the weekly shop then, but decided to take the computer home first. After lunch Jackie suggested she went off to Ringwood shopping on her own, leaving me to set up the new acquisition. I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity of deferring tackling the scary project for another couple of hours, so I accompanied her. She wasn’t sure that was terribly helpful, because it then meant she would be at home when I began the task.

Jackie then drove us both to Ringwood. As usual we parted in the carpark and met later. I wandered in and around the town, and noticed that, although sandbags were still in evidence, ‘the flood waters had receded from the earth’ (Genesis). Since less than 150 days had passed, this drying out was by no means complete. Jubilee Gardens was no longer flooded, and the static caravan site behind Ringwood Tackle was not so sodden. This encouraged me to attempt to enter the Avon Valley Path alongside these homes. A month ago this had been so flooded that ponies had to be rescued. Today I could at least venture through the gate. After a few yards I thought better of it. It was far too muddy.

Water was slowly leaving the Raymond Brown nature reserve alongside the Bickerley. Birds out of their normal element were reluctant to do the same. They picked their way amongst the residual pools, trying to ignore the fact that the ponies were hoping soon be taking up residence again. The millstream could now be distinguished from the floodwaters. It was commandeered by swans, one of which noisily trumpeted its efforts to take off. I wondered whether this ungainly flier had heard Peter Trim talking about bouncing bombs yesterday.

On our return home we had a beer before Jackie began cooking a chicken curry. This meant I had to put off opening my Apple box a bit longer. Afterwards it wasn’t worth starting because we would soon be eating. So I spent the evening, like a child postponing the pleasure of unwrapping a Christmas present, just looking at my lovely new box. Maybe I’ll get started on the job tomorrow. If I can’t think of another excuse not to.

Jackie’s chicken jalfrezi and pilau rice was really authentic, if a bit hot for her. I drank some Isla Negra reserva merlot 2012. She didn’t.

Maawwah!

Clear frosty light sreaked across the lawn outside the kitchen window this morning.

I walked through London Minstead to the A337 and back to meet Jackie by Seamans Cottages to be driven to Southampton. In Seamans Lane a boy spun around on a skateboard, as I slid along on the slippery road. A smaller lad was busy cracking the ice on the surfaces of the frozen puddles. Further on another boy bounced up and down on a trampoline in his garden. A cock crew in Hazel Hill Yard where hens seemed to be queueing for his attention. Outside Perry Farm a wagtail shared grazing rights with a forest pony.

The reason we were going to Southampton was to buy some Infected Eye Optrex for my eye which is a bit sore again. Having looked it up on the Internet we saw there was a Boots open in Unit 6 of the dreaded West Quay shopping centre. This being a Sunday that seemed to be our only opportunity. We couldn’t find it. After driving around for an age we saw a Boots sign on the back of a building, drove as near as we could to the front of it, and started to walk to where it should be. Unfortunately we asked a couple if we were on the right track. They were adamant there was no Boots in West Quay. What we had to do was walk to the multistorey carpark, take a lift to the seventh floor, then from there traverse a bridge across the road and into the High Street where we would find the only branch of Nottingham’s finest. It was only five minutes. It was in fact ten, despite the fact that we were hurrying. We queued for the antibiotic which is available without prescription over the counter. The assistant refused to sell it to us because I hadn’t been to a G.P. I exploded. We returned to the car. I had remained convinced that had we walked fifty yards around the corner before asking the couple for directions we would have found the West Quay Boots. I just had to satisfy myself, so we drove around and there it was. Jackie wanted to try our luck there. I didn’t. She was determined to do it even if it meant leaving me in the car. Seeking another parking spot, the next arrow on the tarmac she followed took her out of West Quay and into the main road. Even she had had enough then and we returned empty-handed to Castle Malwood Lodge where we were due to give lunch to Mum and Elizabeth.

I am now firmly of the opinion that anyone wishing to lay out a town in the most confusing manner possible would do well to take inspiration and ideas from Southampton.

After lunch we all visited the fortnightly antiques fair at Minstead Hall where Jackie bought a tablecloth for our new table and three Asterix books, allegedly for visiting children; and Elizabeth bought us housewarming presents of a 1930s wooden jigsaw puzzle and a substantial glass cakestand.

We then had a portraiture session in which I produced a choice of photographs for Elizabeth to put on her website.

As Mum struggled to her feet from the sofa, I spoke of a game I had played in yesterday’s Santa performance. I would ham up struggling to my feet and stand looking vaguely into the middle distance, carefully not noticing that Lisa and Dan were placing a toy hedgehog on my seat. I would then sit down, feel the prickles on this actually very soft object, and jump up grimacing in pain. I did not repeat the roar that had been a feature of my impersonation of Mr. Bumble, the Beadle from Oliver Twist, of which this little charade reminded us all. When Sam, Louisa, Adam, and Danielle had all been small, they would approach me at the meal table, bowls in hand, and ask: ‘Please, Sir, may I have some more?’. My reply, eyes bulging, red-faced and hoarser and hoarser with each repetition, would be: ‘MAAWWAH?’. And there would be repetitions. As with yesterday’s hedgehog, adults tire of these games much sooner than do children. Mum remembered that when Louisa played Mr. Bumble it could be heard on the other side of Newark.

This evening we revisited Friday’s roast pork; I drank Piccini Montepulciano d’Abruzzo Riserva 2009, and Jackie had some more Three Choirs.

This was a beautiful, crisp, autumn morning. It followed a week of rain. The deep blue heliotrope which had sat on a chamber pot on the two-tone blue garden table had become waterlogged and drowned. As Jackie and I sat with our morning coffee we had that sense of ‘what now? the job’s done’. But that didn’t stop us enjoying the garden.

I walked down Upper New Road to In-Excess in West End High Street in search of more display books for Mum’s project. They didn’t have any, so I returned via West End Road. When you read this, and especially what follows, Mum, I hope you appreciate the effort that’s gone into tracking down these folders.

Much of the day, apart from a trip to Southampton, was spent printing out my posts.

After lunch Jackie and I went to Sainsbury’s superstore in Hedge End and bought the wine for next weekend’s grand event. We then went on to Southampton’s Staples in search of the display books. We were headed for the Retail Village in West Quay. Elizabeth had given us a Super Red Book, the local map for Southampton. The map was clear, we thought. All we had to do was work out where to start from and follow the roads marked. Easy enough. Really very soon, having driven along Bitterne Road, we passed a sign welcoming us to Southampton. Then we hit the traffic. A continuous stream in front of us suggested that the whole of the West Country was headed for the docks, and probably West Quay. That, whilst we knew where we were going, simply demanded patience. Soon it got a bit more complicated. I was navigating, and Jackie was trying to interpret the road signs. Tying up the actual road layout with what looks straightforward on the map tends to be rather confusing. Anyone who has driven before the days of the Satnav will understand this problem. If only you could pull over and get your bearings. Not possible without parking where you shouldn’t, or sending another driver into an apopleptic fit. On one occasion it was a pedestrian we upset. Jackie, having stopped at traffic lights, had been going to drive straight on. She was positioned in the correct lane for that when I gently suggested that she should turn left. This involved a three point turn at the crossroads. A pedestrian attempting to cross, actually against a red light, got a bit cheeky. Following a sign to to the south circular road, we ended up in New Road which didn’t seem to make much sense. Again changing lanes at traffic lights we headed down Palmerston Road and into more confusion. I have always believed that the Satnav has rescued an awful lot of marriages.

It was with some relief that I espied the familiar blue and yellow of an Ikea building. I remembered passing that last week when Elizabeth had driven me to Staples. We were obviously somewhere near the retail village. This, we now knew, meant a right turn. The trouble was there were no more signs to West Quay or Retail Village. Each right turn seemed to lead either to an hotel or a car park. We had plenty of time to work it out as the traffic was solid. Harbour Parade was what we wanted. Fortunately we took the correct turning into it. We still weren’t clear of car parks and found we needed to extricate ourselves from a few. Reading the directional arrows on the tarmac of these places can send you round and round in circles for some time, especially if the Exit signs are lacking. Eventually we found ourselves in ToysRus car park, within sight of Ikea. But we hadn’t found Staples. It was at this point that I remembered that Elizabeth had approached the Retail Village from the motorway to the north of Southampton. She had erroneously thought she had gone a long way round. As we had gone through Southampton we had approached Ikea on our right. Elizabeth’s route had been with the landmark on her left. This made a bit of difference, I phoned Elizabeth, told her where we were, and asked her for directions. ‘Somewhere between where you are and Ikea’, was the best she could come up with. It was, in fact, perfect. Staples emerged into view and we parked outside with some relief. Jackie, who has, for many years, visited mother and sisters in the area, said: ‘now I remember why we always avoided Southampton’.

Staples had the binders. I scooped up an armful and we were soon on our way back. This time on the motorway. Elizabeth, you were not wrong to use it.

This evening we dined on roast chicken followed by The Firs mess. Elizabeth and I drank a couple of different red wines and Jackie consumed Hoegaarden.