Southsea, again

Back of the benches on the wall of Southsea Castle

The Englishman and I’ve just come back from Southsea. This time we were there due to a very sad occasion, a funeral of a close friend’s father. Although his passing was sudden, the occasion was more of a celebration of a full life. As the pastor said during the service at Portsmouth Cathedral (which was attended by more then 400 people – a testament to the man), a sudden death is what most of us wish for, although it’s harder for those left behind to come to terms with.

This morning, before heading back to London, the Englishman and I did our traditional walk along the seafront. As always, the weather was almost mockingly gorgeous. We looked at each other.

‘We could still move here.’ I said.

The Englishman laughed, ‘How many times have we had this same conversation?’

The sun was high and there was a slight breeze, just enough for the handful of sailing boats to move dreamily across the Solent. Our host for the night had left us earlier in the morning to take a group of beginners on the water for the day. As we stood there on the walls of Southsea Castle, we both wished a walk here was a daily occurrence, rather than the occasional one.

Perhaps one day.