April 2014 – derrickjknight

Nearly There

The only bathroom cabinet in the house capable of containing anything useful to ablutions was in the downstairs loo, where it was probably superfluous to requirements. It was so positioned that, I have it on good authority, when rising from the lavatory seat one was likely to hit one’s head on the bottom corner. We took it off the wall this morning and replaced it with a mirror.
The rest of the morning was spent on progressing the installation of the garage library. Whilst Jackie built three IKEA Billy bookcases, I carried most of a lifetime’s collection of large Smith’s photograph albums upstairs to a very useful wardrobe cupboard that could have been tailor made for them. There will be more under the piles of Safestore storage boxes. I considered myself fortunate to have discovered as many as I did. This had the benefit of clearing more space to work in the library, but my system is such that I can’t start the process of filling shelves until I find the box marked ‘Novels A’ which has so far proved elusive. This will be the one that contains my copy of Daisy Ashford’s ‘The Young Visiters’.

During my preprandial tour round the garden, I photographed two different tulips, one very delicate in colouring, the other of the deepest red.

A heavily pruned wisteria lies, at present, beneath the pergola. It will, no doubt, once more festoon the wooden structure.

Furry orange bees are lapping up the ajugas.

Whilst I was wandering about, Jackie made a delicious vegetable soup for lunch.

Afterwards, with minimal help from me, she continued building the bookcases. Today’s tally was seven, leaving two more for completion tomorrow. The library is nearly there.

The Plough Inn at Tiptoe still serves the best pub food in the area. We reminded ourselves of that by dining there this evening. My choice was the fish combo with which I drank Doom Bar. Jackie opted for a half rack of ribs and Peroni to drink.

A Fascinating Collage

This morning Jackie and I set about building a garage door screen with parts of the IKEA wardrobes, supplemented by battens sawn from an old wooden pallet. We needed nails to fix the laminated chipboard to the wood. This entailed a trip, on the recommendation of Giles and Jean, to Milford Supplies in New Milton. Being Jackie’s favourite kind of shop, she bought a few more things as well.
Now, when it comes to such practical tasks, when I say ‘we’, I really mean Jackie, with me standing around looking awkward and supplying the occasional bit of muscle, not, I must admit, always in the required direction. She, you see, is much more experienced with tools and has a far greater spatial awareness. The child’s teaching toy involving posting different shapes into a box with various openings would have come far more naturally to her than to me.
The concept of fabricating a make-shift wall, against which to place the bookcases, from the materials at hand, was all Jackie’s. I did, however, under expert forepersonship, largely carry out the task, whilst she ironed and trimmed her curtains; fixed some toilet roll holders which were actually straight; and prepared an excellent fry-up for lunch.

When we discovered a collage involving scraps of wood, a face flannel, and copies of the Daily Mail firmly gunged to the concrete floor, I was all for allowing it to stay put under the laminate that was to cover that bit of the ground. Jackie, however, much more of a perfectionist when it comes to such matters, set to with a hammer, chisel, and screwdriver, and at least gave us a flat surface.
During the lunchtime break I took another tour of the garden and photographed more plants for my readers, please, to identify.

The comfrey we know:

The shrub to the left and behind the two pictures of a bottle brush tree, however, defeats us (update: Jackie has identified it as Crinodendron Hookerianum, otherwise known as Chinese Lantern Tree).

Further behind, and to the left of these shrubs, is a cherry tree that has suffered in the winter storms. When I get around to the garden I will need to cut off the broken section. The bright green leaves surrounding this, has been identified by Tess, a New Zealander, as belonging to a hebe with a name beginning with K which I can’t remember.

This evening Jackie fed us on prawn and lamb jalfrezi with savoury rice, paratas, and vegetable samosas. She drank her usual Hoegaarden, whilst I enjoyed a couple of glasses of Louis de Camponac cabernet sauvignon 2012.

For the preparation of this jalfrezi follow that for lamb given on 22nd January, and when it is cooked, add frozen prawns and simmer for about five minutes; and if using fresh prawns, until they turn pink.

After our meal we drove to Hordle Cliff to watch the sun sink beneath the horizon. From the thrift-covered cliff top we could look down on beach huts and on fisherfolk settling down for the evening on the shingle.

Crows and gulls fought over scraps tossed from cars whose occupants had brought their meals on wheels. One couple left their car and became silhouetted against the reddening sea.

A sated crow took a rest on a bench seat to view the Isle of Wight, in which the bird appeared rather disinterested.

Identification Required

Last night Jackie came up with an excellent idea for recycling some of the IKEA wardrobe sections in the creation of the garage library/laundry room. This was going to need the use of a saw, and we only possessed the hacking kind.

A further trip to B & Q in Christchurch was therefore required, especially as we needed some more of their curtains and dowelling for the rails.

We bought all these and stopped off at Fergusson’s inHighcliffe to collect a mirror that came with one of the chests of drawers we had bought. While she was at it, Jackie added the hand-painted screen seen on the left of the photograph, to our purchases.
There were long mounting brackets attached to the mirror. I had travelled from B & Q in comparative comfort, with two eight foot dowelling poles over my left shoulder. The journey from the House Clearance shop was a little more complicated. The dowelling was now being kept company by one of the mounting brackets, whilst I held the screen close to my right cheek.
We also wanted to go to New Milton to visit the bank and buy some mounting card and Glu Dots for the photographs I featured yesterday, but thought it sensible to go home and unload first. Glu Dots are a Blu Tack product which hold the pictures in place and are removable when required. We found them in New Forest Stationers which is very well stocked with all art and writing materials.

Now, the IKEA sections have spent a week in the rain on the skip pile. They are also spiked with various bolts, screws, and fastenings. I therefore took a screwdriver to them, and undid what I could before we trundled the requisite number back into the garage whence they had come from.
We have a number of containers packed with domestic items surplus to our requirements that may be useful for younger home makers. Before we could get the IKEA kit back in the garage we had to make room for it. This involved carting those other boxes to the shed at the bottom of the garden.
After this exercise Jackie put up two more pairs of curtains in the kitchen, and I flopped for a while before wandering around the garden realising exactly how little we know about its plants, many of which are clearly unusual specimens. Of those we think we have identified, we would welcome readers’ confirmation. Of those we can’t, all offers will be gratefully received.

There are many decorative trees, almost none of which we know. For example, this one in the front garden:

or this in the back:

The aquilegias and dianthus we are confident of,

but this flower, on long tall stems, has us beaten:

as do both the pink and white ones here:

The very prolific white plants we think are scillas. Could the pink flowers be tierellas or heucherellas?

Perched on a table near a water butt is a potted cactus.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious lamb jalfrezi (recipe) with savoury rice. I drank sparkling water.

P.S. 31st July 2014

Jackie has now identified the white flower that had us beaten. It is libertia, like so many of our plants, a native of New Zealand.

Cleaning And Hanging

This morning’s test confirmed that Matthew has successfully cleared our shower soak away. Goodness knows what the blockage was, but Bullitt had not penetrated it.
To begin the day, Jackie and I each carried out a fairly extensive cleaning task. Personally, I think I drew the short straw. My task was the removal of the third lavatory seat, the scouring of the porcelain, and the fitting of a replacement. Mat and Tess had brought us the replacement yesterday. we had actually given it to them for Christmas, but it didn’t fit their colour scheme, so they bought another, and we bought this one back off them. That way they still had a present from us. Should anyone wish to read a description of the seat replacement process, I would refer you to ‘Beyond Rancid’ posted on 8th of this month.

Jackie chose to clean and polish the refurbished clock given to Jessica and me by Michael thirty three years ago. And a very good job she made of it too. It is a much lighter wood than I have known for years.
This afternoon hanging was the task. Whilst Jackie hung a pair of curtains she hand bought in B & Q on a length of dowelling from Knights ironmongers, I paid attention to a couple of pictures.

The curtains frame the kitchen window rather nicely, and happily blend with the cloth that happened to be on the dining table. On the bottom left of the window-sill stands a stoneware vase that Becky made for Jessica and me when she was an art student in the early 1990s. Suspended from the ceiling at top right are a set of wind chimes made from silver-plated cutlery given to me by Michael’s children when they were all quite small. They are on the list for a polish.
Towards the end of the last decade, when I was living in Sutherland Place, I printed a large number of A3+ size prints of my colour slides, and began a practice of changing those on display each week. I bought two large frames with perspex windows having magnets at each corner. It was a simple process to slip out on photo and insert another. Now we have a suitable property in which to begin again.
We had a diversion to B & Q in Christchurch, where we bought a spirit level, the like of which has been a stranger to our house for many years. My pictures are held by two nails, so a means of ensuring they went up in a straight line was a definite requirement.
I have chosen to reproduce the framed hangings as they are in situ. This means that the observant viewer will be able to work out where they are in the house.

The portrait of Michael in the kitchen sink, taken by me at Ashcombe Road whilst Vivien was bathing him, is from August 1965. Is there anyone who has at no time bathed their child in the kitchen sink?
By September 1967 when the next photograph was taken, Vivien had died and Jackie and I had met. One pleasant outing was taken with Jackie, her mother, and her sister Helen.

This picture was in a carriage of the Romney, Hythe, and Dymchurch steam railway. It has always remained one of my favourites. I have never returned to that tourist attraction, but Jackie, who has, tells me that the view we had enjoyed on that day is now obscured by houses.
Giles Darvill is one of my oldest friends, and, by virtue of living in Milford on Sea, is now a neighbour. This evening Jackie and I visited him and Jean, his lady friend, and dined on an individual curry carefully selected by Giles for each of us. Jackie drank Kronenberg and the rest of us two different red wines. Giles had not seen Jackie since 1972, but the years just rolled away and we enjoyed very pleasant company.
The stained glass piece my friend made for my fiftieth birthday has already been mentioned. Other works of his also adorn our home. The fascinating fact is that, of my possessions brought to our joint home, Jackie selected those for display without knowing their pedigree.

The Carpet

Jackie has been having difficulty obtaining a correct Tesco Clubcard. Twice she has clearly spelt out KNIGHT on the telephone. She has received two cards now, the second one, this morning, having at least an N where an M was originally given. She has another phone call to make.

Having seen a sign indicating a path to the beach on my last walk through Shorefield Country Park, I walked that way again this bright, windswept, morning, turning right at Dane Road. I was at the cliff top, from which I could see the Isle of Wight and The Needles, in half an hour.

Shorefield has a Sunrise Bushcraft education project, the hoarding for which I passed on my way. (This picture seemed to have been lost altogether, but I found it on Google’s page for the project – as I did the two Tesco club cards. So many sites bear my photographs that I might try this again – 3rd April 2023).

Taking a walk along the shingle, I conversed with a couple of intrepid fishermen who needed to keep a low profile from the gusts coming of the choppy sea.

The usual groups of adults and children enjoyed themselves at the water’s edge. One child lost a balloon which rapidly disappeared back up and over the cliff.

I took a shorter route back home, through the rookery, where vociferous and voracious chicks now kept two parents busy, and magpies were, in no uncertain terms, informed that their presence was not required.
Our son Matthew, and his wife Tess, brought us lunch and stayed for the afternoon.

Mat, a true professional spent a couple of hours laying a carpet, which Michael had given us, in the garage library, which is now a garage/library/laundry room. This was a magnificent effort involving moving heavy boxes of books backwards and forwards across the room as the floor covering, including underlay, was unravelled. I wasn’t much help.
The carpet had been sent down from Graham Road with our furniture by Michael. It was a well-nigh perfect fit.
Yesterday’s second application of Bullitt to the shower plug hole had proved no more successful than the first. Not content with his work in the library, Mat then took a flexible rod to the shower, and, we think, cleared it.
Finally, a very full day was rounded off by a visit from sisters Jacqueline and Elizabeth who arrived in time to chat for a while with Mat and Tess, who then went on to visit Becky, Flo, and Ian.
The rest of us dined at The Royal Oak, where we enjoyed our usual warm welcome and attentive service.

Spaghetti Junction

Here is the recipe for broccoli and stilton soup I had hoped, last night, to be able to provide this morning. Thanks to our caterer-in-chief:
Take a largish saucepan.
With approximately 2oz butter and 1 and 1/2 oz plain flour make a roux.
Then add 3 to 4 oz crumbled stilton to taste.
Meanwhile, heat a pint and a half of water in a separate pan, into which dissolve two good quality (e.g. Knorr) stock cubes, one chicken and one vegetable. If possible these should be low salt because stilton can be salty.
Simmer chopped broccoli and/or cauliflower in the stock until soft.
Gradually stirring it in add the broccoli and stock to the roux and ‘cook for a bit more’.

We had some for lunch. It has a delightful piquancy.

Before that, we had driven to Knights ironmongers in Lymington, where we bought a number of practical items, like sink plugs, door locks, hacksaws, chisels, and a preparation for clearing the blocked shower. I had used Bullitt before, but couldn’t remember the name. The very helpful young man in the shop went straight to it when I described our needs.

Bullitt is 95-97% sulphuric acid and claims to dissolve pretty well all organic matter that can legitimately find its way into pipes. It comes with considerable safety warnings, and emitted a steam, which we are advised not to inhale, on application. Unfortunately, whatever is down there, it seems impervious to sulphuric acid. I suppose it could be fossilised. After following the instructions and scouring the scummy tray, there was no speedier a trickle down the plug hole. I applied another dose and walked away without much hope of success. Jackie, on the other hand, made a good job of fixing sink plugs and door locks.

My first car, bought in December 1966, was a red Hillman Imp. During our courting days I was able to drive to Jackie’s family home in Beckenham, sometimes with Michael, sometimes leaving him with Mum in 18 Bernard Gardens. Always a keen photographer, I kept the camera in the car. One afternoon in September 1967, I stopped at traffic lights, and glanced to my left.

There a window cleaner was engaged in polishing a large sheet of glass under the gaze of a baby in a pram inside the room that it was lighting. I grabbed my all-manual Kodak Retinette 1b camera, and, in the seconds before the red light turned to green, snatched the shot. It remains one of my favourite ‘posterity’ images. Judith and Barrie will, no doubt be intrigued to recognise the roof of my car reflected in the window of the room.

Aficionados may be able to identify the make of the pram. Window cleaning has now become much more sophisticated. Does anyone still use a ladder, chamois leathers, and elbow grease?

When she was here last week, Flo observed that we had our TV in a funny place. This was because it was behind Jackie’s chair and consequently rather obscured from view.

This in turn was because I was too scared to attempt to set up the Sharp Aquos TV; BT Vision complete with the Powerline adapters required because the Home Hub was far enough away from the telly to need it; and the Bose 123 CD/DVD player complete with its bulky Acoustimass module.

The Gravelly Hill interchange on the M6 at Birmingham is the original spaghetti junction. This is a nickname given to a network of connecting roads that appears a tangled mess. It could equally apply to the wiring system focussing on the seven year old TV. With constant reference to the various users guides that came with the equipment; to the tags at some stage or another attached to the various wires; with some of the tentacles still attached at one end to the relevant gadgets; and with a good deal of foraging among a container labelled ‘phone wires and stuff’, a miracle was achieved. We can now watch telly, choose a programme from BT vision, play a DVD, or listen to a CD.

Whilst I was grappling with technology in the living room, Jackie successfully did so in the kitchen, where, on her induction hobs, she produced a lamb jalfrezi (recipe) as good as ever. She served it with wild rice. I finished the merlot.

The Isle Of Man

This morning Jackie drove me to New Milton for me to catch the London train. This took her eight minutes, but added half an hour to my train journey. It is far preferable than driving to Southampton for her, and no problem for me.
In a small patch of garden alongside the station buildings lilac, bluebells, and moon daisies glistened with raindrops. As I photographed the daisies a woman on the platform pointed out the display of daisies I had already shot. She said she had not seen them there before, and wondered whether they had been planted or were self-sown.
From Waterloo I took the Jubilee and Metropolitan Lines to Preston Road and walked to Norman’s. Much tilling was being undertaken in the allotments adjacent to the John Billam Sports Ground. One holder had planted a bright array of tulips.
My friend fed us on roast lamb, paprika wedges and vegetables followed by blackberry and apple crumble and custard. We shared a bottle of excellent Crozes-Hermitage.
In narrating the condition of our new home I was prompted to mention Sheila Darzi. Sheila was a member of our Intake Team of social workers in Westminster in the early 1970s. The insanitary conditions of a house to which she made an assessment visit were such that she had to go home to change into a pair of Wellington boots. The Old Post House is not quite that unsavoury, but it comes a close second.
Before I left home this morning I had examined the legs of the reproduction Victorian free-standing bath in our master suite. As far as we can tell, it is quite new, and we would seem to be the only people to have used it. Once each. It is so small that we can only sit cross-legged in it. Not even each at the same time. Yesterday Jackie felt it move. She discovered that none of the legs is fixed to the floor and one of them came off the bath in her hands. My inspection revealed that the other three limbs are at least bolted to the bath.
Perhaps there is some significance in the fact that the lock on the family bathroom door photographed a couple of days ago bears the three-legged symbol of the Isle of Man.
From Preston Road after lunch I took the Metropolitan and Jubilee Underground lines to Westminster, and walked from there to Carol’s. After spending some time with her I returned, via the 507 bus and the train from Waterloo to New Milton where Jackie was waiting to drive me home.
On the train today I began reading Desmond Seward’s history of ‘The Wars of the Roses’. It promises to be very good.
At home, Jackie produced a tangy broccoli and stilton soup with which I drank water and she Hoegaarden. I will attempt to prise a recipe out of her for publication tomorrow.

The Chicks Have Hatched

One of the consequences of moving house is the need to wonder where to put things. This is very helpful in encouraging one to complete unfinished organisational tasks begun years ago. In about 2008/9, when living in Sutherland Place, I discovered that some of my books and slide boxes had been damaged by damp. The colour slides themselves were sound, but the boxes were on the wet side, so new containers were essential. I bought some, and decanted the positive films from the worst of the moistened ones. Although I had enough new receptacles to take the contents of the last, least damaged, box, I didn’t finish the task until yesterday. All in the interests of reducing by one the number of containers needing a home.
This led me, this morning, to resuscitating the ‘posterity’ series. My first photo-shoot of Jackie was made on Wimbledon Common in April 1966.

Here is one of the pictures, with the War Memorial in the background top left.
Before this I walked the whole length of Shorefield Road and Sea Breeze Road, taking in the vast acreage of the Country Park. The high-pitched screeching of the gulls over the stubble field on

Downton Lane gave way to the deafening racket of the rookery, at times indistinguishable from that of a reversing Highway Maintenance vehicle.

The lofty nests of the frenetically active rooks are now apparenty occupied by ravenous chicks. The parents flap to and fro keeping their offspring from starving. Each rounded cluster of sticks is guarded by one adult whilst its mate energetically forages.

At the far end of the Sea Breeze section of the park, where building continues unabated, is a meandering stream-crossed woodland walk leading to Studland Common Nature Reserve. Although partly gravelled, the paths tend towards the muddy.

The ear tags of cattle grazing in Studland Meadow reflected the gorse around them.

On my return I met and conversed with two separate dog-walkers. I was quite relieved that the West Highland terrier poised for attack was on the end of a lead, and had probably already had his breakfast.

This afternoon, as promised, our chests of drawers were delivered by Fergusson’s House Clearance.

Before dinner I finished reading Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel ‘The House of the Seven Gables’, in the Folio Society edition illustrated by Francis Mosley. First published in 1851 this is an intriguing story rich in characterisation. The author’s skill in story-telling surmounts the wordiness of some of his language commensurate with his time of writing. The reader’s interest is maintained throughout. There is a touch of mystery about both the house and the writer’s tale, and he ties it all up tidily in the end.

Mosley is a versatile illustrator who remains one of my favourite Folio Society artists.

Our evening meal was roast lamb in tasty gravy, served with crisp vegetables. I drank Cimarosa Chilean merlot from 2013.

Lambing Time

This morning I walked along Christchurch Road to New Milton to visit the bank to make a transfer and the station to check train times for my next London visit. Jackie shopped in Lidl then met me in the car park near the Council Office and drove me home.
Along the busy, meandering, and undulating main road lay fields of sheep. Four childless ewes in a small field sheltered from the drizzling rain that lent a sparkle in the morning light to roadside trees, some displaying apple blossom.
A suckling lamb’s tail wagged up and down, possibly, like a small dog, in anxiety, until it had grasped the teat. Further along the road others showed the usual inquisitiveness at my passing. All bore identification colouring.

A small corner of a field on the left hand side of the road seems to be where the very young creatures begin their lives.

Variegated gravel heaps seem a not unattractive feature of the landscape.

The one door in the house now capable of being locked is that to the family bathroom. This was not always the case. The catch plate, you see, was screwed in at a level placing its bottom screw in the lowest hole that can be seen in the door-jamb. Obviously the lock was not aligned with it. Maybe the idea of moving this down had been abandoned. I repositioned the receptive piece this afternoon. The door itself doesn’t bear too much scrutiny.

David Fergusson was unable to deliver the chests of drawers today, because his son has had an emergency appendectomy.

Later, when I walked down to the post box, shrieking black headed gulls swooped over the stubble field.

This evening we dined at The Royal Oak. My choice was steak and ale pie; Jackie’s was breaded scampi with a side of onion rings. I had a starter of vegetable soup; she finished with New York Cheesecake; I enjoyed apple crumble. My beer was Flack’s; Jackie’s was Becks.

Bombay Night

We now have poppies cropping up all over the garden.

There are at least two weigelas, one of which adorns a dead stump.

Honesty abounds, and is a favourite with cabbage white butterflies.

The day was spent in relaxed company with Becky, Ian, and Flo. They returned home early in the evening, and Jackie and I drove to Barton on Sea and along the coast, after which we went on to Bombay Night in New Milton.

Bombay Night has fast become our local Indian restaurant of choice. My favourite here, which I ate this evening with special fried rice, is the Nowabi jalfrezi. I have not met this elsewhere. It offers a mix of tender lamb, chicken, and king prawn with a blend of flavours, including those provided by fresh red and green chillies. Jackie chose chicken sag with mushroom rice. She was impressed by the fact that, even on Easter Monday, the spinach was fresh. Indian food is always so colourful and aromatic. That of this establishment is no exception. The popadoms, incidentally, are flavoursome and crisp, and presented with interesting chutneys. We drank Kingfisher.