Portsmouth Point, savouring every second of time gifted you 

I spent two happy years researching the history of Portsmouth in the 1830's - I pored over the shipping news in Mottley's Telegraph and Portsmouth Gazette - I breathed in the sharp spicy scent exuded by fragile documents - I marvelled at the detail of the large scale maps of Portsea - I murmured the names of streets and alleys like a conjuration - Broad Street, Oyster Street, Golden Lion Lane, Half Moon Street, Messum's Court, also known as Squeeze Gut Alley -

Portsmouth Record Office and the old library were havens for me - I scribbled notes, felt the soft touch of time upon my skin - I met two girls who meant so much to me, there amongst the bound copies of local newspapers, the calm local histories -

One June, I walked with Richard across Southsea Common - we talked of Geoff, who'd had an attic room in his parents' elegant Georgian villa - when I knew Geoff, he had a droopy moustache and wore a leather flying jacket - he'd hitch hiked to Dharamsala - I'd read Geoff's journals, written in thick note books, delicate handwriting covering pages and pages of coarse paper -

We looked out at Spithead - the sea forts looked like huge stone flying saucers - yachts raced by - white horses glinted in the generous sunshine -

We walked along the old walls, glanced up at a copper weathervane - it was placed on top of a white tower - the sky behind it was a marvellous heart stopping blue -

The beautiful houses lining Broad Street were silent - secrets collected under high ceilings - we each had a pint of Guerilla Gold - the Spice Island was thronged with ghosts as well as with slender girls -

We watched a sailing barge motor slowly towards the harbour mouth - I savoured every every second of time that was gifted me -