Welcome to Itchenbridge.co.uk

If you are visiting itchenbridge.co.uk for the very first time, then welcome to internet oddity that is http://www.itchenbridge.co.uk/ !

You may be here because you saw the Meridian Tonight feature on the old floating bridges - I would like to say a big "thank-you" to Richard and Mick for doing the interview. If you missed it, you'll be able to see it on the Meridian TV website: http://www.itvlocal.com/meridian/ (Thursday 16 August).

...just one thing: I'll take issue with the "often photographs it". That's an outrageous exaggeration! I don't have that many pictures of it, all things considered...

Anyway, if you think the site is weird, you're quite right. And if you're wondering: "You cannot be serious?", well, maybe I'm not ;o)

15 seconds of fame

If Andy Warhol was right, then after tonight I will have just 14 minutes and 45 seconds worth of fame left from my rightful allocation.

One of the side effects of setting-up a quirky website is that every now and then, someone finds it vaguely useful. Last month, that person was Richard Jones from ITV Meridian. He was preparing a piece marking the 30th anniversary of the Itchen Bridge.

In his research on the fate of the remaining floating bridges, he stumbled on my website and asked if he could do a interview. Well, who am I to deny ITV the chance of my valuable input?

He said that he was pleasantly surprised to discover that I wasn't a bridge geek (well, that's what he said to my face!), and when I explained that the site is a little tongue-in-cheek (have you seen the "Paying The Toll" video?!) he promised me that he wouldn't portray me as an internet weirdo.

Richard: I expect you to keep your word! ;o)

Mind you, I have a horrible feeling that I answered his questions far too seriously, and showed a bit too much knowledge of the history of the bridge.

And after the interview, his cameraman, Mick, wanted some shots of me taking photos of the bridge.

Oh. Bugger.

Bridge geekdom, here I come...

Frustrations cast in plaster

Ow. My arm hurts. Admittedly, nowhere near as much as it did six weeks ago, but it still hurts.

Six weeks ago I set off for my regulary Sunday afternoon game of football - and returned home after ten minute's worth of action with a broken arm (the very bottom (wrist) end of the radius, if you must know - plus a big chip off the end of the ulna).

Since then I have developed two big gripes about the whole thing. Of course that's apart from the annoyance at all the things I can't do - drive, play pool, play guitar, ride my motorbike, etc., etc. - but then that's only to be expected, after all, I've broken my arm!

No, my gripes are quite different.

Gripe number 1: the mountain of advice and support information given to me by the NHS

I could have drowned under the mass of support literature given to me by the hospitals and doctors - no, really, I could. If I was a vertically challenged ant. With no legs.

That I knew my arm would be in plaster for six weeks had nothing at all to do with the medical profession - instead, it have everything to do with friends and colleagues saying that six weeks was the standard time for that sort of thing.

Since it was my wrist that was immobilised, but not my fingers, could I use my hand at all? Pick things up? Wiggle my fingers? Or should I keep everything as absolutely still as possible? I didn't have a clue.

It wasn't until I made an appointment with my own GP to specifically ask these sort of questions that I found out that moving my fingers was okay - and even quite a good thing. Oh, and I got a (very small) leaflet from the hospital as well - but only when I was having my second cast put on, some three weeks after the break.

GPs are busy people - so why am I having to waste their time, my time and my employer's time going for appointments just to ask questions that really should have been dealt with when I was in hospital receiving my initial treatment?

Gripe number 2: football is a dangerous game

Thanks for the sympathy. No, really, thanks a lot. I'm going out there having fun (it's a very relaxed game we play, just a knockabout really - the arm thing was just an unfortunate accident), but with one of my key aims being to keep fit.

Yes, you know, keep fit, like we're all being told constantly that it's very important for us to do.

So having someone ask in a concerned tone "How did it happen?", only to follow it up after you've explained "Oh, football - dangerous game. I've got no sympathy" really pisses me off.

Would it have been okay if I'd been larking about at home and fallen down the stairs? Or how about being blind drunk and falling over then? Would that have have been okay? Maybe so - but keeping myself fit whilst having a bit of fun seems to warrant nothing but distain from some quarters.

And if getting those sort of comments from people in general wasn't bad enough, it's getting the same attitude from members of the medical profession that really takes the biscuit.

"About half the people I see are for football injuries", said the nurse putting on my second cast. Really? Half? I find that a little hard to believe - but even if I accept that dubious statistic, so what?

It's the medical profession that tells me I should keep fit and active - so why have a go at me when I have an accident doing just that?

Whatever you do has risks. Running is bad for the knees and feet. Cycling gets you out on poorly maintained roads, in the polluted air, at the mercy of cars, lorries and busses. Tennis and badminton can really test your knees - and how many people keel over with a heart attack whilst playing squash?

I'm not after sympathy - it's just a broken arm, it's damned awkward at the moment but it'll get better - but losing the criticism for being active and trying to stay healthy would be nice, thanks.
Oh, and before I leave you with the impression that I'm a miserable old sod, I'd like to add that most people have extremely nice and helpful - thank-you all very much! ...It's just the unhelpful few that can go and get stuffed ;o)

Team shirts

Team shirts. Sometimes a good thing (football - team shirts = chaos). But necessary in a game of pool? I hardly think so.

Even after a few pints I'm still perfectly able to recognise my team-mates - I don't need the help of a matching set of purple tops, embroidered with "New Inn A" across the back.

Now I've recently started playing for my league's inter-league team, where we play against the better players representing other pool leagues in Hampshire. It's a little more serious than our usual Thursday night matches - but essentially I'm still there for a bit of a laugh and a few drinks.

Clearly the same cannot be said of everyone...

A number of the other inter-league teams have kitted themselves out with matching team shirts. I must say that it does look quite effective, and some of them are actually quite good - a bit more than a set of polo shirts with the team name on the chest.

It's not my cup of tea, but each to their own, I guess.

A couple of the team have even gone as far as having their nicknames printed on the back of their shirts... hmmm. Well, like I said: each to their own.

Let's be clear: I have nothing against any of this at all. If that's what they want to do, fine. Go ahead. Please, be my guest. Just don't ask me to do it, thanks.

And so we reach the point at last (hey, this is like one of Ronnie Corbett's monologues!). You see I was at our inter-league cup tournament the other day. All eight teams in the league gathered together for a cup tournament, some with team shirts, some without.

Good so far.

Except that on shirted team had a problem. One of their guys was there without a shirt. Oh, the humiliation! Not to worry - they a had a spare.

Phew. Panic over.

Not quite.

You see (are you sitting down - it might be an idea at this point), Mr Noshirt didn't want to put it on. Can you believe it?!

Oh no! Disaster! It's a calamity! It's... no, wait... hang on... we can sort this out. There are all sorts of things we could do:

1. Disappointed resignation. "Oh, it's a shame that you don't want to wear the shirt - but that's okay, it's not really that important."
2. Reluctant acceptance. "Well, if it means so much to you guys... go on then, I'll wear it."
3. Manly Mexican stand-off. "Come on you @#$&! Put the @#$&-ing shirt on!" "@#$& off yourself! What sort of a @#$& do you think I am?"

Or you could go for:

4. Girly handbags-at-dawn hissy-fit. Tantrums, sulking, with a bit of foot stamping thrown in. From both sides.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing - it took all my self-control not to burst out laughing. It's only a shirt for goodness sake!

NHS time

A while ago I wrote about Railway Time, well today I well and truely experienced the rather more infamous NHS Time.

Three weeks ago I fell over and broke my arm. I'd already had it set in a three-quarter "backslab" plaster, and today I had my appointment at the Royal South Hants to have it checked over and replastered.

"Please get there early because car parking can be difficult". Fair enough, and in any case it's best to make sure you're there early.

09:40. Arrive at the out-patients waiting room. 20 minutes early, but that's fine.

10:00. My appointment time.

10:15. Still waiting.

10:30. A notice is pinned-up: "Waiting time currently 45 minutes". Oh.

10:45. Still waiting.

10:55. Still waiting.

11:05... Success! I finally get called to see the doctor. Er, no. Not that, not yet. It's only the x-ray. Ok, but at least I'm making some progress. Aren't I?

No. Because I'm not off to get my x-ray now, no, I'm off to check in with the x-ray department so that I can wait there for a bit.

11:15. I'm called up for my x-ray at last! Except that that's not quite right... what's happened is that I've now been given a bit of paper to take with me to yet another waiting room. My third of the morning.

11:25. Finally, the x-ray!

11:30. 1½ hours after my appointment time I've at last spent some time receiving medical attention: five minute's worth of being x-rayed.

What now? Back to waiting room number 1. Oh. But don't worry: the receptionist assures me that, now that I've been x-rayed, I should be seen by the doctor fairly quickly.

11:45. Still waiting.

12:00. You'll never guess...

12:10. Will wonders never cease? The doctor makes an appearance. Great! "We're just looking at your x-rays, and I'll see you in a few minutes. Oh.

12:15. Time to see the doctor. It's looking good. Go and get a new cast now, then come back in four weeks.

12:20. My "medical intervention time" has been doubled to a grand total of ten whole minutes. I'm now off to get my new plaster.

12:25. A whirlwind five minute waiting time and I'm in for the new plaster. Do I want red, blue, black or purple?

What? What's wrong with plain white? I don't want a bright volour - nice, plain, ordinary white would be very nice thank-you. Ok red it is, then - ten minutes of replastering and my intervention time is doubled again.

12:35. It's back to the waiting room 1 again to make my appointment to have the cast removed. Would I like a 10:30 or a 09:30 appointment?

Are you kidding?! I'll take 09:30, thanks. I'll take 07:30 if it means I get seen at 07:30.

12:40. Escape! 3 hours after arrival, 2 hours 40 minutes after my appointment time and I'm finished.

I've had a grand total of 20 minutes of being x-rayed, seeing the doctor and being replastered. Accompanied by 2 hours 20 minutes of waiting, getting frustrated, watching everyone else waiting and getting frustrated.

What a complete joke.

Solent Sky: well worth a look

I'd almost forgotten that during the summer I visited the Solent Sky museum. Tucked away in a corner, not far from the city side of the Bridge, you'll find Southampton's air museum.

If I have to be brutally honest, it doesn't look great from the outside. The building looks a bit tatty, and is only just big enough to house the Short Sandringham IV - a four-engined flying boat.

Not much room for anything, I thought. Wrong!

Somehow they've managed to squeeze twenty exhibits into the museum. And the tattiness of the outside is in stark contrast to the presentation inside - I really wasn't expecting it to be half as good as it was.

My favourites were the jets: the Folland Gnat, de Havilland Sea Vixen and Supermarine Swift... you can't beat a jet for its smooth, aerodynamic design - they look fast, even on the ground! The Sea Vixen, in particular, is a spectacular plane, with it's folding wings and twin-boom tail - and it's incredibly sturdy undercarriage, designed to handle the violent landings on aircraft carriers.

But that's nothing in comparison to the Saunders Roe SRA1.

The what?

No, I'd never heard of it either - but it's the sort of plane that makes you say "Wow! I really wish that idea had caught on!". What is it? It's a flying boat jet fighter. Yes, seriously: a flying boat jet fighter!

To make it as a flying boat, it has to be big - just the sort of thing you don't need is a jet fighter. It's not difficult to see why the idea never, ahem, "took off" (sorry). But it's a stunning plane, nevertheless.

Talking of flying boats, that brings me to the S6a, the Schneider Trophy plane. This is a landmark plane in British aviation history - not least because it was the forerunner to the Spitfire.

Planes + Southampton = Spitfire

It's a simple as that.

I don't really need to say much more: it's a wonderful, gorgeous plane, and you can get tonnes of information about it from pretty much anywhere you care to look. And it, like me, was born in Southampton.

The Spitfire I was expecting - what I wasn't expecting, however, was to find out just how much aviation history there is in the Southampton area. If you want to find out more, then go and visit the museum: don't be put off by the outside of the building - it really is well worth a look.

I'm back!

Hello there! Yes, I do still exist - and I'm well aware that I've been neglecting my Itchen Bridge responsibilities. Sorry.

Since I last posted, I've been dealing with the busiest time of the year at work, I've been organising the new pool season (honestly, you wouldn't believe how much effort that takes!), dealing with lots of stuff on Saints messageboards - oh, and learning to play the guitar!

But Christmas is fast approaching - which can mean only one thing: I'll have some time off, which I can spend creating my mash potato Itchen Bridge!

(Okay, there'll be one or two other things as well - Christmas footy fixtures, the Ashes, visiting the family, spending time with the bird, the Mosconi Cup, doing a lot more guitar practice, tidying the house, organising the singles and doubles pool competitions... bugger... I think I'll have to book some more time off work!)

I've not been completely inactive on the bridge-front: I've taken some more photos... but I've not got as far as putting them on Flickr. Hmmm... I really must get my arse into gear!

Recognition at last!

So often you can look back on an event, and pick out a pivotal moment - the instance in time when your activity reached a critical mass and snowballed into something sooooo much bigger.

I wonder if that pivotal moment for this website was tonight?

St. Steve started a thread about this ItchenBridge.co.uk on SaintsForever's Banter board tonight - probably because he'd seen that I'd used his photos in my gallery (with his permission, I should add - cheers Steve: they're bloody brilliant!).

The usual Banter-style "let's talk a load of bollocks" ensued (it's what we love Banter for!)... until Steve Lynex mentioned that next year was the Bridge's 30th birthday.

I hadn't realised! How embarrassing!

Of course - 30th birthday. Something has to be done to commemorate this event - I don't know what, but we've got to do something.

Suddently I can see a vision: rather than just being a (very) tongue-in-cheek "Saddo Internet Obsessive" website, ItchenBridge.co.uk could kickstart a big 30th Birthday Bash for the bridge.

Cor! I'm all excited now :o)

Back on track

Things on ItchenBridge.co.uk have been a little quiet of late - no, I've not abandoned my project already! No, it's just that I'm trying to juggle far too many things at once.

Thankfully, the weather is getting better and, now that the footy season's over (well, it is for all proper footy clubs - them fancy-dans in the Premiership are still going - but who wants to be in the Premiership, eh?

Anyway, thanks to St. Steve, I've been able to populate the gallery with some cracking photos - I'll be adding at least one from Al de Man, too. Oh, and I'll be out and about getting my on pictures as well.

I do need to get on a do some work on the history... which reminds me: I must remember to renew my library books - oops!