Hook Tandoori

When I began taking digital photographs specifically for this blog I did not know how to give a picture a title and a location.  Now I have more than 2000 images stored in my iMac.  I have learned how to label the photographs appropriately, but have not backtracked to the beginning.  There is a wonderful search facility on the machine that enables me to type in a title, for example, The Raven Hotel, and watch the building appear, in a flash, on the screen.  Those pictures that predate my brilliant technical progress are not so easy to find.  This is because they are all called IMAGE followed by a number.  If I know roughly when I took the photo I seek I can scroll to the approximate date and look for the picture among all those that surround it.  If I don’t know this, I have a long search ahead of me.

There is, therefore, nothing for it but to go back to the start of my great adventure into the wonders of modern technology and label all the pictures.  I made a start on this today.  One slight additional complication is that in those early days of grappling with this, I managed, I’ve no idea how, to save two copies of everything, unedited and edited; or simply two unedited. This means that I am also needing to send one of each picture to the trash.  Never mind, I managed a couple of months worth.

The very first blog picture was number 24 in the ‘Derrick through the ages’ series. Derrick with new camera 6.12 It was taken by Elizabeth on 24th June last year as I proudly clutched the box containing my Canon S100.  It had taken some time that afternoon to choose the equipment.  Whilst Elizabeth and I were doing so, a tigress roamed around Jessops photographic store.

This post is being written at the aforementioned Raven Hotel, but anyone wishing to see a photograph of it, or any more today for that matter, will be disappointed.  The accomodation is in Hook, roughly midway between home and Hurley, where tomorrow we will visit Wolf and Luci.  I am therefore using my laptop, having just had my first experience of connecting to The Cloud.  I can therefore send my missive, and illustrate it from the above picture which is in my WordPress Media Library because I have used it before.  It is a good thing I have an excuse for the repetition, because it is in the ‘through the ages’ collection.  You see, I forgot my card reader and I cannot use the memory card with my laptop.  When we get home tomorrow night I will be able to rectify the omission.

The Raven Hotel

Jackie drove us as usual.  There was an oppressive cloud of smoke and a caustic smell of burning rubber coming from the M27 just after we turned off onto the M3.  We considered ourselves fortunate that we were leaving that road as the traffic ahead slowed considerably.  For miles along the other side of the M3, as we sailed along, the traffic was almost at a standstill.

Emma, on reception at the hotel, was a very amusing and cheerful young woman who gave me our registration documentation and keys, with the announcement that the booking was in the name of Mrs J. Knight.  I wondered how that had happened, given that I had made the reservation, and that Jackie does not actually bear my surname. When I looked at the paperwork I saw it was in the name of Mrs J. Wright.  The J could have been Jackie, but the Wright meant it was not really likely to be us.  It wasn’t.

Our receptionist had recommended the Hook Tandoori opposite.  This was just as well, because, on my wander around the village, I discovered no other option.

It was just as well, also, that I discovered no other option. Hook Tandoori meal Hook Tandoori, recommended by the Raven receptionist, warrants rave reviews.  The service was friendly, efficient, and unobstrusive; the ambience comfortable; the music gentle and interesting; the food superb.  We both had prawn puree starters.  My main meal was beef naga, and Jackie’s chicken Bengal.  The portions were large, and the cooking exquisite, with artistic presentation.  Jackie drank Bangla, whilst I imbibed Cobra.

Published by derrickjknight

I am an octogenarian enjoying rambling physically and photographing what I see, and rambling in my head as memories are triggered. I also ramble through a lifetime's photographs. In these later years much rambling is done in a car.

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