The pandemic disrupted my life-history practices. I developed a quirkier way of working that blurred the distinctions between living and researching, my way of exploring my ‘own street corner’ (Deegan, 2007). This took neither an emic (native) or etic (theoretical) perspective (Hammersley and Atkinson, 2007) but rather an observational one, capturing contemporary moments of everyday life. These moments – alone or in combination – I, then, present as short vignettes or stories. Interpretation is present in the seeing and the storying (I am part of the processes) but made more explicit later when, working reflectively, I consider what triggered those impressions that came unbidden in a nod towards analysis. 

I present this work as educational, as it represents a form of learning – mine. My methods were emergent, responsive to circumstances rather than found and applied, subject to change and adaptation, and only later embedded within a number of theoretical frameworks as I began to see where I might fit. At the conference, I will recount how walking on overly crowded footpaths during lockdown I managed to contain my irritation by turning the actions observed and conversations overheard into data; material that I could twine together into composite stories of everyday life to capture a historic moment of global crisis at the local level. I examine how I came to see myself not merely as a geographer who noted the landscape around me but a flâneur, one who walks unseen within the crowd seeing what there is to be seen; a living, acting, writing version of the archetypal figure favoured by many European authors. Balzac (1826), Baudelaire (1863/2010) and Walter Benjamin, in his unfinished work on The Arcades of Paris (1999, but compiled 1927-1940), notably used this literary device to comment, as if impersonally, on the developing urban scene as it unfolded. 

In contrast, my aimless wandering was constrained to an East Anglian village but possibly this made the process of what I have termed “Skulking and Spying” along with eavesdropping, easier (Wright 2023). Wide grassy verges and largely traffic-free lanes enabled people to loiter to chat (or shout across a two-metre gap) in a way that narrow streets would not have done. Early stories focused on life as a senior citizen accompanying an elderly relative whose normal activities were curtailed on a daily walk, I began to see the world through her eyes, as I checked perilous uneven kerbs, thoughtless cyclists and runners, dogs and children who rushed ahead heedless of the consequences of collision. Later I found stories from across the social spectrum and began, too, to ‘listen in’ in more sedentary locations – on buses and trains, in cafes and shops, as the world began to re-awaken.

In addition to presenting my emergent methodology and showing how this was a learning process, I will examine how my approach sits alongside other qualitative traditions, and particularly its alignment with forms of ethnography. I will set out my claim to flâneurie and offer two new stories as examples of the process in action, both of which relate to the broader topic of difference and diversity. The first, “Kids are free” arose when breakfasting in an ‘eatery’ in an English outer city neighbourhood that served both customers of the next-door motel chain and the local community. The second, “A bag with baggage” stems from a verbal exchange witnessed as I queued at a local supermarket checkout, in a semi-rural village and, at the very least, captures cultural misunderstanding. 

At the start of the Covid-19 pandemic enforced isolation precluded the execution of face-to-face biographical interviews except with those whom I already knew. But working so proximally potentially created ethical issues, particularly around anonymity and confidentiality. Although this was never directly voiced, I was questioning ‘how could I continue to research when in-depth social interaction with non-family was precluded?’ I needed a way to extend the breadth of my data sources and found one in strangers encountered en passant on my daily walks! I learned to channel into something more positive, frustration that members of my local community turned their right to an hour’s exercise outdoors into a chance to socialise. To avoid walking among entire families straggled along the footpaths and pavements, and refrain from passing between neighbours shouting across public spaces who stayed safely distanced while they (most definitely) exhaled above our heads or into our faces, I was often forced to walk slowly behind those dawdling ahead of me. Whether I liked it or not, I had to listen to their conversations and learn more about their daily lives. I realised that many neighbours were facing the same difficulties, that those of comparable age, gender or occupation often voiced similar opinions, that I could recognise ‘typical’ viewpoints. Trained through my work with small children to listen and observe closely and hold such data in my head until I could write it down, I was able to gather multiple versions of life in lockdown to supplement the material collected by more overt means. I saw that I could create composite accounts from such sources, rendering my data ethical as it was not attributable to any single individual whose permission I needed to obtain. And arguably, the conversations were in the public domain – individuals shouting across a gap were hardly talking in private. Toying with ways to present my data, I decided that fictionalisation would add another layer of anonymity, maybe also interest and veracity. Creating stories, I found that these took on lives of their own during the writing process, enabling me to stand aside from my data and analyse it anew. Furthermore, I found precedents for my way of walking, observing, and listening in the archetypal literary flâneur who ‘strolled’ through cities (especially Paris) in times past, enabling authors who used this device, to comment ‘impartially’ on what was happening. My methods merged into a methodology.

Arguably, the stories represent the conclusions for my research as a flâneur, for in them the processes come together to create a product, a narrative that can be shared with others. Furthermore, my development of this specific methodology and the process of me becoming and exemplifying a walking-writing-researcher are conclusive actions, my contribution to the continuous ‘debate about what counts as ethnography, and “how to represent the field”’ (van Maanen, 2011). The emergent nature of my methodological approach, and the theoretical framing that underpins it, is traceable in print through my post-pandemic publications (Wright, 2021a, 2021b, 2023). These articles evidence a developmental sequence, through the different stories that were created and the discussion around them. I argued at the end of the latest article that the work of the writing-flâneur resonates with biographical research, ethnography and autoethnography, and I continue to find new links. Working on this presentation, I learned that van Maanen, described the ethnographer as ‘part spy, part voyeur, part fan, part member’ as early as 1978 (p.346), but my title of “skulking and spying” was chosen without this knowledge. I claimed (and claim) that when the flâneur proceeds with care and competence flâneurie can capture the complexity and uncertainty of contemporary lives in a way that is honest, respectful, authentic, and trustworthy. As with many forms of qualitative research, it is the quality of the work, the rigour of the researcher, that gives it value. To make a positive contribution to knowledge and understanding we need to work conscientiously and communicate clearly and effectively, attracting and keeping an audience willing to engage with our ideas. Throughout history and across cultures, stories have demonstrably served as effective vehicles for communication, and this continues to be true even though the platforms for telling stories change and develop.

Balzac, H. de (1826) La physiologie du marriage. In: Balzac (1980), La Comédie Humaine, 11, p. 930 (Méditation III. De la femme honnête), Paris. Baudelaire, C-P. (1863/2010). The Painter of Modern Life. English Edition (2010) of Le Peintre de la Vie Moderne (Translated by P. E. Charvet, 1972). Penguin. Benjamin, W. (1999). The Arcades Project. English Edition of Das Passagen-werk, 1927-1940 (Translated by H. Eiland and K. McLaughlin from German version edited by R. Tiedemann and published in 1982). Harvard University Press Deegan, M. (2007) The Chicago school of ethnography. In: S. Delamont. J. Lofland, L. H. Lofland, A. Coffey & P. Atkinson (eds) Handbook of Ethnography, Sage. Eriksson, P. & Kovalainen, A. (2015) Qualitative Methods in Business Research (2nd edn), Ch 12: Ethnographic Research. Sage. Hammersley, M. & Atkinson, P. (2007) Ethnography: Principles in Practice (3rd edn). Routledge. Van Maanen, J., (2011) Tales of the Field: On Writing Ethnography (2nd edn). University of Chicago Press. https://doi.org/10.7208/chicago/9780226849638.001.0001 Wright, H.R. (2021a) Through the eyes of the elderly: Life under lockdown or What to avoid in future crises. The Sociological Observer, 3(1): Remaking social futures through biographic, narrative and lifecourse approaches: Story-making and story-telling in pandemic times (Online, 9/8/21): 113-117. Wright, H.R. (2021b) Learning to live differently in lockdown. Teraźniejszość – Człowiek – Edukacja (INSTED: Interdisciplinary Studies in Education & Society), 23(1-89) September: 63-79. DOI: 10.34862/tce/2021/07-e38m-6042 Wright, H.R. (2023) Skulking and spying then telling tales – Becoming a walking-writing-researcher. Tidsskrift (Qualitative Studies). Special Issue: Writing off the beaten track (Eds Martin Hauberg-Lund Laugesen & Charlotte Wegener), 8(1): 110-136. DOI: 10.7146/qs.v8i1.136796