Slow Travelling Man

Friday 3rd October 2025

Located in the northern reaches of Hampshire, the market town of Basingstoke has had a long association with history, having been mentioned in the Doomsday Book (currently unavailable on Amazon) as being ‘a market town’. According to my in-depth research undertaken just a moment ago, the name Basingstoke refers to a settlement of an Anglo-Saxon tribal chief who went by the name of Basa, which I do believe is short for Barry.  Further online analysis has identified that artefacts from a Neolithic campsite (possibly without electric hook-up & Elsan waste disposal) have been found on the outskirts of the town. Moving forward in antiquity, the remains of an Iron Age settlement known as Winklebury Ring was discovered. Although sounding like a rather sinister medical condition (‘I’m sorry to inform you sir that you have a rather nasty case of Winklebury Ring.’), such is the need to instil the history of the place into young minds that the site of great importance was bulldozed & a school built in it’s place. When it comes to road links though, over the years many historic routes have passed through the area. An Iron Age (maybe Stone age) route known as The Harrow Way (The name believed to of been a forerunner to the famous Cockney song The Lambeth Walk – ‘Doing the Harrow Way, oi’) connected Seaton in Devon with Dover in Kent, whilst a Roman road called Roman Road was built by the Romans & connected Winchester with Silchester. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth II though, a further trade route known as the M3 was added, connecting Basingstoke with London & the Southern coastal city of Southampton.

Adding great historical importance to the town (& a great deal of resale value to the properties within) is the nearby village of Old Basing. Firstly, it was here that King Æthelred of Wessex and his brother Alfred the almost Great (later King Alfred the Great) received a bit of a lambasting from a marauding army of visiting Danes in 871, & secondly, in the English Civil War (1642-1646) the area became home to scores of, um, soldiers I think.  Apologies, I seem to have bored myself whilst researching the subject.

Anyway, advancing onwards once more through the annals of antiquity the town became linked with many industries in the 18th – 19th Century. Machinery manufacture with Wallis & Haslam (later Wallis & Steevens) & Thornycroft being large employers of their day, whilst May’s* Brewery was well appreciated.  *anyone interested in the grand old game of cricket, the brewery owner, Mr John May, purchased a piece of land destined for development & rented it at low cost to Basingstoke Cricket Club, hence the name of the pitch is forever known as May’s Bounty.  Another character of note that literally set up shop in Basingstoke in 1856 was that of Thomas Burberry, the fashion designer & founder of the international brand of Burberry. Famed for his invention of Gaberdine, his legacy still lives as clothier to many, er, upright & well-healed young persons in this country.

Arriving in Basingstoke Railway Station on a Friday morning at about 1103, having previously assured the management that I was going to be spending the day undertaking Compulsory Professional Development training at home on the computer, my keen eye immediately surveyed the railway structures on the platform.  According to something I think I read onetime on t’internet that although some parts of the station still actually exist from the 1855, such as the canopy on Platform 4 & maybe a sausage roll in the station café, the remainder of the station was actually constructed in 1903, & followed a design by a Mr Jacomb Hood in a pattern similar to that of others along the London & South West Railway Line.  So, while the masses descended the stairs, rebelliously ignoring the international laws of railway staircase etiquette by going down the up side, I spent a few brief but thoroughly scintillating minutes, inspecting the platform for anything remotely interesting.  Finally, after staring geekishly at some cast iron downpipes & metal railings that displayed 1.25 centuries & possibly 1.25 inches of congealed paintwork, I admitted defeat & descended the stairs, to proceed through to the essential modern glass & steel monstrosity that was bolted on to the front of the old station. 

Resisting the urge to throw my arms aloft & scream at the top of my lungs ‘Good Morning Basingstoke’ (thus mimicking the song ‘Good Morning Baltimore’ from the musical Hairspray), I contained my inner Tracy Turnblad & simply ambled over to the top of some steps to look down onto a gaggle of smoking mothers with their prams, scent marking the entrance to Basingstoke retail centre (called ‘The Malls’).  Not possessing the urge to buy a vape, Turkish style haircut or some dubious food of mass production, I avoided the town centre for the time being, & undertaking a crisp left turn I marched-off in a smart & soldier-like manner in front of the older railway buildings.  Now for those who enjoy snippets of Sorbid & Morbid (I think I can safely refer to this as S&M) history with their eggs in the morning, as well as the Provisional IRA leaving a bomb in the station toilet in 1993, which thankfully didn’t detonate, it was at this very taxi rank in 2001 that a mutilated body was found within a suitcase, having been placed there by a Sri Lankan Buddhist monk.  The peace-loving monk apparently had a disagreement with a fellow Sri Lankan & decided to chop him up with a meat cleaver.  Cheerful stuff, eh? Cautiously passing by a line of taxi cabs & keeping a watchful eye out for anyone in orange robes wielding a meat cleaver, I eventually came face to face with one of the last remaining old pubs in the town, The Queens Arms. Although, it is beyond the remit of this article to comment on the quality of the produce or the friendliness of the clientele, at the time of writing, I ranked the establishment as ‘Potentially Interesting’ as I didn’t actually enter into the place as it possessed a slight whiff of being a local boozer for local people & one that oiks like me visiting from Reading may have been stared at within.

From the Queens Arms, one may turn on their heels & run like buggery back the station having a complete change of heart, or they could do as I did & follow the thoroughfare in a downhill direction passing by a number of former high-rise office buildings which have been lovingly converted into high-rise living accommodation.  Not far beyond these, I happened to observe a large, somewhat skewed building on the left-hand side which resembles a sort of modern church/concert hall.  This large, somewhat skewed building, as I soon discovered was not a modern church or concert venue, but a discreet Waitrose supermarket, subtly identified by their massive green logo on the front.  I also discovered that said supermarket of the middle classes will set you back a whole £5.00 for their 3-piece meal-deal, a price substantially more than Tesco’s at £4.25 & far superior to Sainsbury’s cheap & cheerful offering at £3.90. Another equally valid point worth mentioning is that although there are several benches available outside the store entrance, the view is somewhat poor & in hindsight, maybe not the best place to fire up the brew-kit for a lunchtime cuppa.

With the famous quote ‘when going through hell, keep going’ lodged deep in my consciousness I advanced furthermore downhill & under the underpass & over the overpass that is the pedestrianised centre of a large roundabout & modern amphitheatre/skateboard park, towards the base of Eastrop Lane.  Casting my learned eye eastwards along the line of multi-storey commercial buildings that make up Alencon Link, I spied Fanum House at the very end.  This building was the first of a high-rise nature in the town & was officially opened by Queen Elizabeth II in 1973 to be the official residence to the Automobile Association.  At this point, should one feel the need to have a closer look at this structure, one may undertake an additional amble through Eastrop Park which runs parallel to Alencon Link.   (Authors note:  Under the ‘c’ in Alencon is one of those French squiggly jobbies which looks a bit like the number 5.  Being unable to find it on my keyboard, & as I am not actually French, I cannot be arsed bothered adding it).

Now, progressing in an uphill fashion along Eastrop Lane I passed by the Church of St Mary on my right-hand side, which according to Historic England has aspects dating from 1774, with further aspects added in 1886, 1912 & 1969.  Their website also mentions that within the church there is a slab tombstone dating to 1663.  From my own observances though I spotted an immaculately maintained war grave indicating an RAF pilot who died during the Second World War. 

Reaching the summit of Eastrop Lane, I momentarily considered aiming my person in a diagonal bearing up & onto Crossborough Hill, the location of the famous Costello School (formerly Harriet Costello Comprehensive School).  This fine educational facility possesses a select & distinguished alumni such as Elizabeth Hurley (the former punk, safety pin enthusiast & actress), Tom Rees (the rugby player) & a rather dashing & extremely humorous blog author, the name of which momentarily escapes me.  Instead, I hung a right onto London Road, pausing momentarily to observe the White Hart Public House (Potentially interesting once again).  Reputed as being the oldest in the town (built circa 1600) & boasting a fine 4.1 stars out of 5 on Facebook, I decided that although I hadn’t had a pint in there since my third year, I’d give it a miss & carry on with my excursion.

Just up a bit from the oldest pub in town (reputably) is the town’s War Memorial, a Grade II listed monument, complete with angel on top (Interesting) which lists the 1200 local men who served in the 1914-18 Great War.   Behind this is the War Memorial Park, which comes complete with a bandstand, large bird cage (it may not be there anymore) & small, white hexagonal building that, according to local rumour, serves no function whatsoever.  After an in-depth analytical search on t’internet, some bloke on Reddit says it was probably an ice-house for the Goldings Building (the posh looking building situated next to the War Memorial itself) which was owned by Mr Burberry.  Anyway, assessing the locale for weirdos & winos, I secured temporary occupation of a park bench & partook in another brew.     

End of part one

Part Two Carrying on

Located not too far from the War Memorial Park is an impressive educational facility called Fairfields Primary School.  This structure with its own haunted bell-tower was built in 1887 & over the years has educated 1000’s of local people.  One rather famous name that attended the school briefly was that of Ruth Ellis, who later gained notoriety as being the last woman to be hung in the UK.  Another was a rather devilishly handsome blog author, who gained notoriety by being one of the last to receive capital punishment from the headmaster, Mr K. Goulden.  At the time, December 13^th 1981 at 2.15pm to be precise, although his counsel protested that the lad he was aiming at had actually ducked & ‘she was at the wrong place, at the wrong time M’laud’, he was subsequently found guilty of launching a snowball at high velocity towards the facial region of a dinner lady & was therefore duly sentenced to 3 whacks with a size 10 Dunlop plimsol.

I decided not to visit the school on this occasion (obviously due to past trauma issues) & instead headed back to London Road, whereby I eventually passed, like a prodigal son returning from a campaign in distant lands (not sure Tilehurst counts), most triumphantly through the modern metal Triumphal Gates (Interesting) that according to some official blurb about art from Basingstoke Council, ‘herald the entrance to the town centre’.  Awaiting the cries & cheers of adulation from the locals, all I got was a monosyllabic grunt from a woman smoking weed who begrudgingly moved so that I could take a photo of it for the ‘gram’.  What was more interesting than the gate or the weed woman was an adjacent terrace of old houses called ‘Deane’s Almshouses’ (Interesting).  These abodes for the poor & infirm were constructed in 1608 courtesy of a generous gift from Sir James Deane, a merchant adventurer who made a decent wedge from trade in India & China.  Rumour has it that an elm tree was planted nearby to commemorate Guy Fawkes attempt at blowing up the Houses of Parliament, but it grew to such ‘a monster’ (a real quote) that it became a hazard to stagecoach drivers on their way to staging at The Red Lion Hotel almost opposite, that it was later cut down..FMTI.

I would just like to state at this point that I am not a fan of retail areas, especially shabby ones, & as identifying as ex-military, whenever I am up close & personal with crowds of people, my dickhead sensor goes into overdrive.  So, with my eyes narrowed on the lookout for thieves & vagabonds, I crept cautiously past the tattoo shops & tat shops & shuttered clubs & bars that identify the Top of Town (honestly, the powers that be have actually called this area ‘the Top of Town’) towards Market Place. 

In this area there are two buildings of note.  Firstly, the grand-looking Town Hall building (circa 1831) complete with Tuscan porch with 2 column pilasters & a balustered parapet, which these days houses the Willis Museum (potentially interesting), & secondly, just behind McDonalds & up the little alleyway is the public toilets (Extremely interesting). Now you might be asking to yourself, why has he mentioned these, well put it this way my dad designed one of them.

With my attention & sense of humour seriously waning, I decided to call it a day & head for the hills.  From Market Place I wandered down Wote Street passing the Haymarket Theatre, but at the bottom as I was just about to enter the urban battlefield which is Festival Place, I spied something, something that tickled the highly childish & juvenile corner of my brain.  This something was almost 3 metres high & weighed in at 7 tonnes & resembled a, um, a massive, giant, enormous, carved stone, er, penis.  The Church Stone (Interesting) is actually quite a rather splendid sculpture that was commissioned to commemorate a church which was previously located on the site, which just happens to look very much like a gentleman’s appendage. And with that, if I can give you any genuine reason to come & visit the town of Basingstoke, it would be not to immerse yourself in the rich history & culture (sadly that has long since departed), it would be to come & stand & have your photo taken next to Wote Street Willy.