Psychology In Action

Having been deprived of shops for, in some cases, up to 36 hours, humanity was on the move again today. A large part of it moved towards Gunwharf Quays. What is the draw of the sales? Personally I save money by not buying things. I do not save 20% on something I did not want in the first place; I save 100% by not buying it at all. Nor in the normal course of things do I feel the need to go to the same place as everyone else and at the same time. You might think me disingenuous here but Greg and I had a specific purpose in mind when we headed for Portsmouth and were at the beginning of a to-do list for the days off. With the Gunwharf car parking oversubscribed we came up with an ingenious plan. We drove to a Guildhall car park which had plenty of spaces and took the train between Portsmouth & Southsea and Portsmouth Harbour. Joining the crowds at Gunwharf was then painless. Greg was keen to buy some MBT shoes or, as they are styled 'anti-shoes'. They are supposed to offer a number of orthopaedic and other health benefits, are available in a range of styles encompassing formal and leisure and are a lot easier to get in Greg's size 9 than my size 12/13. It is interesting to note that there is absolutely no need to pay MBT's rather alarming retail prices. The sale prices in their outlet store were significantly lower and then further reduced by 20% to make them more comparable to some other shoes. Is any RRP ever credible these days?

The crowds precluded taking some of the photographs I had hoped for but I am perfectly happy to return at a less frenetic time. The popular eating places were predictably crowded but we went in Giraffe where service was very effectively managed. The food was good and reached the tables commendably fast considering the level of patronage.

Portsmouth itself looked pretty grim. Gunwharf is an improbable jewel in a much faded coronet. Portsmouth Harbour station is a building Southwest Trains and Network Rail should be ashamed of. Some refurbishment by contractor Osborne seems to be half-heartedly underway. The station contrasts in an extraordinary way with Portsmouth & Southsea although both are shabby. The terminus has no ticket barriers and on our arrival the ticket office was closed. Platform management is poor since the short sighted removal of track at Platform 2. Key trains are situated the maximum distance from the entrance. The area around Portsmouth & Southsea station, known locally as the Town Station, is appalling. One leaves the station to heavily littered streets and an urban desolation only the planners of the late 20th century could have wrought. The Guildhall Square and its environs are an architectural disaster compounded by neglect. The once glorious Guildhall which survived the Luftwaffe is overwhelmed by the banal ugliness of its surroundings. The desolation continues as one leaves the city via Fratton. There was much there to delight me in my youth and my father before me found comfort in the established familiarity of what went before today's wasteland of architectural incoherence.

When we left our car park to thread our way through the buildings to the station we trod where many times I trod with my late father. His heart was already broken by a Portsmouth disappeared. If his ghost watched us today it probably wept in quiet despair. How ironic that the nearby War Memorial should mark the fallen of a conflict won in the oppressive surroundings of a battle lost.