Genes Will Out

My cold lingers on, so I didn’t venture out much today, except to accompany Jackie to Ringwood where we delivered a cheque to Ellis Jones Solicitors on account of their fees for the house purchase, and did a little shopping in Sainsbury’s.

During the last couple of days when I haven’t paid much interest, the season has reached out and begun to make its mark on the garden and the forest.  The temperature has dropped a few degrees.  Petal-like mushrooms have sprouted on our lawn, and the leaves on the trees have begun to turn various shades of red and gold.

Returning from Ringwood via the Cadnam roundabout we drove up Seamans lane through the site of the blockage of 28th October.  The sawn remains of the fallen tree supplement the colours of the forest verge with their own autumnal blend.  Jackie tells me that the obstruction had been cleared by the time she returned from delivering me to the airport.

Again, a piece of time-travelling occupied me for a good part of the day.  Picture number 33 of the ‘through the ages’ series takes us back to Durham on a later holiday.  The little baby I had held in my arms in number 31 is my sister Jacqueline, perhaps two years old by this time.  This dates the shot at summer 1949.  She is the only child in the picture not looking up at something in the foreground.  Chris appears to have a problem with his knee.  I don’t know who the other girl is.  Mum suggests she was a friend who used to come and play with us.  Apparently we always sat on this wall of our grandparents’ tied accommodation attached to Durham prison where Grandpa was an engineer.  It is possible he is the figure on the right obscured by the open window.  Mum says the walls of the prison cells can be seen in the background. I am so fortunate that she is still able to fill in the crucial details of these historic images.

What fascinates me most about this photograph is our sister’s face.  Two days ago I wrote about the likeness of my great nephew James Arrondelle to his grandfather Chris.  Today it was the turn of my nephew James (Jimmy) Clancy and his mother, Jacqueline.  Their features are similar and they each have the same gaze fixed on the lens.  I do not know who took the 1949 photograph if Grandpa Hunter does appear in the picture, but twenty years later, in April 1969, I photographed his great grandson.

Our evening was completed by Jackie’s lamb jalfrezi with savoury rice and mini paratas.  And jolly good it was too.  Sticky toffee pudding and custard was to follow.  This put me in mind of Newark’s Shaan, the only Indian restaurant I know that served English puddings.  I could never manage to eat one.  My drink tonight was Cobra, whilst Jackie chose Hoegaarden.