When Portsmouth was alive

Article by Marisa T

It saddens me sometimes, when my mind wanders back to the Portsmouth I used to know. I remember the bustle, the easy laughter in the streets, and how the town seemed to hum with possibility. The air carried the scent of fried chicken drifting from KFC, a small but steady reminder that Portsmouth was on the move. HHV Whitchurch & Co. stood tall, its shelves filled, its doors always swinging with customers coming and going.

And of course, there was Ross University. The campus buzzed like a heartbeat. Students from all over the world filled our restaurants, shops, and taxis. Their energy spilled into the community — every corner felt alive.

Now, when I walk through certain parts of town, I see shutters drawn, buildings standing quiet like they’re holding their breath. KFC is gone. HHV Whitchurch & Co. has closed its doors. The departure of Ross took more than jobs — it took a piece of the town’s soul.

We still have our sunsets, our sea, and our people’s resilience, but there’s no denying something has shifted. Portsmouth once felt like it was running toward the future; now it feels like it’s waiting for a spark to set it in motion again.