August 2014 – Page 2 – derrickjknight

Studio Portraits

Becky, Ian, Scooby, and I repeated yesterday’s trip to Barton on Sea. This time the rain kept off and we walked down to and along the beach, climbing, by way of a fenced off footpath, up to the road near Sails Coffee Shop, and returning along the straight to Becky’s car.

On the grass near the Beachcomber Cafe we met two women and a young girl with a Scooby lookalike.The owners released their pets so they could make each other’s acquaintance. The humans chatted whilst the new-found friends frolicked. We soon realised we all came originally from London. The cameras were not long in coming out, and various owners attempted to cajole the animals into posing. Ian was particularly tender as he caressed Scooby’s ear, no doubt attempting to encourage the forthcoming smile. The doppelgänger, Jack, also responded to his owner’s gentle touch. Eventually, hands were withdrawn, and suitable studio portraits achieved.

We walked past a heavily eroded cliff and eventually reached a sign explaining that the area beyond it was closed because of the very high risk of landslides. To the right, some way behind the sign, a woman and child slithered down some scree and made their way to the beach. They had descended from the road above, and presumably seen neither the warning nor the high fence. They must, however, have slid under the barrier bordering the path up which we ascended. To the right of the path could be seen evidence of cliff falls to which some brick buildings and sections of gardens had clearly been lost.

We hadn’t realised until we reached the top that one of the buildings so near the edge was the terrace on the end of which is Sails Coffee Shop. These are some of the properties that must once have included longer gardens, perhaps evidenced by their shifted footpaths.

The family returned home to Emsworth after our multiple choice dinner. I enjoyed Becky’s penne Bolognese, Lidl’s lasagne, and Jackie’s savoury salad. That is, I had a little of everything. For dessert I opted for Jackie’s apple crumble and custard. Custard tarts, ice cream, fruit salad and various flans were other choices. Ian drank Hoegaarden. The rest of us abstained.

In Our Daughter’s Handbag

Just before lunch Ian drove Becky, Scooby, and me to Barton on Sea. As we walked along the cliff top, we watched storm clouds approaching from the North. Deciding to ignore them we walked down the slope towards the beach, got drenched, and retreated to the Beachcomber Cafe. The whole population of the seaside town seemed to have had the same idea. No seats were available. The meals looked very good, so as soon as the rain stopped we drove back home for a pizza we knew Jackie had defrosted.

It seems to me that the cliff here has become more unstable in the last year, and that there are more warning signs. To the right of the first picture, a long cleft is evident. I wondered how long it would be before the land fell away as it had a little further along.

This afternoon Barrie and Vicki came for a visit. Vicki produced a very attractive and tasteful bird feeder in the form of The Green Man that she had made for us. Jackie and I enjoyed their usual entertaining conversation, which was interrupted by the repeated sound of Becky’s mobile phone. It soon became apparent that this was in our daughter’s handbag. She was outside, having gone to meet Ian who was walking Scooby. Soon afterwards Ian returned, having lost their dog in the maze of the maize field. Realising what the phone calls might have been, Becky dialled the number in her phone. Sure enough, Scooby had been found. The telephone number shown on his collar tag photographed on 11th was that of the old Mitcham landline. Fortunately, Becky’s mobile number was on the reverse side. She called the number that had been left on her phone by the woman who had found Scooby. He was at the bottom of Downton Lane. She went to collect her dog and all was well.

Barrie has photographed our golden conifer because he has a friend who he expects will be able to identify it. I hope soon to be able to enlighten those of my readers who have been waiting with bated breath for the information.

A branch from this tree is one of those Jackie and Flo cut for our granddaughter to turn into wands for sale at A Touch Of Magick in Emsworth, which is the outlet that is stocking Flo’s jewellery. The other twig is from the copper beech. Some of the wands are resting on our Alvin Betteridge dish.

You have to be either a sadist or a masochist to enjoy the highlights of the very short third day of the Oval Test Match between India and England, in which the visiting side simply rolled over, but Ian and I tortured ourselves with watching the highlights this evening. After this, we did the male thing and went to the Royal Oak pub for a drink whilst the ladies prepared a delicious roast lamb meal. We seem to have stayed out rather longer than expected because, in mid-conversation, Ian, looking out of the window, seemed rather discombobulated. I leant forward so I could see what he was seeing. There was Becky, in her slippers, hands on hips, looking for all the world, except for the lack of hair curlers, like Florrie, the wife of that famous working class hero, Andy Capp, silently indicating that we should get home immediately.

We did, of course, drink up and return to Old Post House where we enjoyed a wonderful meal followed by next door’s apple crumble and Jackie’s custard containing eggs and nutmeg. My readers know no-one lives next door. But there is a very enticing apple tree in the front garden. If we hadn’t raided it, the fruit would have gone to waste. Ian drank Pedro Jimenez Cimarosa 2013; Jackie and Becky Lambrusco; Flo Tropicana mixed tropical fruit juice; and I finished the bordeaux.

Indian Summer

Becky and her family are staying another night, so Jackie and I left them at home this afternoon while we spent a couple of hours at a barbecue party at friends Kathy and Rob’s at Walkford. On our return I watched the second half of the Test match highlights with Ian.
We were not aware that the theme of this party was ‘Indian Summer’ and required us to dress accordingly. Therefore we didn’t. But I was wearing sandals. There is much confusion about the origin of the term that is applied to a stretch of unseasonably warm weather on the approach to autumn. The Indians referred to are most likely native Americans, but it is also thought to evoke the weather of the Indian Ocean. It was not surprising therefore to find a more or less equal number of outfits representing North Americans and the people of the Indian sub-continent.
Our hosts were apparently in no doubt and provided a delicious range of curries. We took one bottle each of red and white wine, of which we sampled a little.
Jackie’s sisters, who were both present, remembered the gorgeous blue sari I had bought my lady for her twenty first birthday in 1969. She still possessed it in about 1990 when this photograph was taken.
By the early 1970s we had discovered Maya Rani. Maya was an Indian woman who made and sold clothes with Indian cottons and silks from her basement flat in Finborough Road in Fulham. She made a number of outfits for each of us. In August 1974 I still wore some of the shirts she produced, like the one in this photo taken by Jessica in our flat in Soho. In this picture I am wearing the patched trousers of the brown velvet suit, the demise of which was featured on 17th November last year. The books behind me are in some of the Chinese boxes I described on 14th September 2012.
Jackie was able to join the others in enjoying a spaghetti Bolognese cooked by Becky. I wasn’t, because I had had two plates of curry earlier. Becky wishes the world to know that she ‘imbibed diet Pepsi’.

Sails

In the shelter of the pergola this morning, a large fat spider was tucking into a breakfast that should last a fortnight.
A new clematis and what we think are ginger lilies have now come into bloom.
Leaving Flo to await the arrival of Becky and Ian who have come back for the night, we drove off to Sway Manor hotel to collect Sheila for a day out. The idea was to begin at Christchurch for a boat trip. Forget it. We drove around the various car parks, following other streams of vehicles searching for places. None were forthcoming, so we gave up. As we left each set of parking spaces, we noticed streams of cars pouring in, but no pedestrians coming to retrieve their vehicles and leave a space.
Our next stop was at Barton on Sea for lunch snacks. Slightly out of the way, not on the beach, we found Sails Coffee Shop. We enjoyed coffees with toasted sandwiches and a breakfast baguette. Elaine, the proprietor, and Sandra offered excellent friendly service, and it was noticeable that in this holiday venue, many other customers were regulars known by name. One of these was the woman, once a cricketer who played for Middlesex, who updated us on the state of play in the Oval Test match between England and India. Newspapers and magazines were on offer in a rack. This establishment is to be recommended. Elaine bade me farewell as she drew back the curtain at the entrance.
We then went on a driving tour of all our old haunts from last year. Sheila was particularly delighted to see ponies with their foals. Rain began to fall as we arrived at St Margaret’s Church at East Wellow to show Sheila the tomb of F N, which is how Florence Nightingale wished it to be inscribed. This tower stands proud above the more ancient stones that surround it.
I was particularly intrigued by the land beyond the kissing gate. This is a gate that swings within a curved barrier, kissing it as it turns. There are a number of the modern version of these entrances and egresses around the area. These tend to be much more cramped than the slender iron version in the churchyard. From the church entrance runs a well-trodden footpath which ends abruptly at the gate. Immediately after it comes a barbed wire fence and a row of newly planted trees. What was obviously a public right of way and a route to the place of worship is no more. What is the story, I wonder?
From there we drove back to Sheila’s hotel where she treated us to an excellent meal of chicken and chips with pavlova to follow. I drank the house white wine, a good chardonnay. Jackie drank peroni and Sheila, sparkling water.
Back at home we spent the rest of the evening with Becky, Flo, and Ian, with whom I later watched the cricket highlights.

House Rules

One of the rounded posts allegedly holding up the arch supporting roses, clematis, and honeysuckle at the entrance to the front garden has rotted away. In fact it had itself, until hurricane Bertha struck, been made apparently secure by the plants themselves. It needed attention.
Building upon yesterday’s successful D.I.Y., I decided to deal with the problem. Firstly we needed a trip to Milford Supplies for a metal stake to hold the three inch square beam we had found in the garden. We were delayed at the store by a very heavy shower which kept us inside the shop, and raised my hopes of too wet a day to carry out the job. Although it is only a couple of miles distant from Old Milton, where we were shopping, there was no rain at home. So I just had to get on with it.
Now, it is important that you understand the rules that apply to Old Post House D.I.Y. If at all possible, you must make a bodge of it. I did my best to comply with what was expected of me, although I have to confess that I couldn’t bring myself to set the supporting timber in a position reminiscent of the Tower of Pisa. I did quite well in the incompetence department when hammering the holder into the ground. It wouldn’t go in very far because it soon met concrete. Shifting it a bit further away from the post in need of a splint seemed to do the trick. I merrily hammered away with a heavy mallet until I almost jarred my wrist off. Further concrete I suspect. This meant that, although the metal stake was firm, it did stick out of the ground a bit. That was a result. It wouldn’t look right. Success.
The next rule is that if you actually purchase material, instead of picking up anything that might suffice, you must leave the label, price tag, and bar code, in place. This, after all, ensures that at least that small area will remain clean. Compliance with this regulation was easy. The new piece of metal bore all three.
The best technique of all is to recycle something that has previously fulfilled another purpose. The galvanised nail protruding from the rotting post presumably held, or was intended to hold, some part of the trellis. It would have been very infra dig to have removed the pointed hazard, or indeed, the gate catch that has remained in situ long after any gate had been removed. The screws were rusted in anyway, and I am hacked off with applying a hack-saw. Jackie just bashed the nail down a bit, and, in any case, the catch was useful for threading the strap through. I think this achievement offset my having put the pillar in straight.
Finally, if you are recycling a beam of wood, and one end of that has also rotted, on no account trim it for the sake of appearances. With any luck the foliage will soon cover it.
While Jackie and Flo drove off to New Milton for more jewellery making materials, Scooby and I went for a good sniff round the garden. I felt rather relieved that I was not a blade of grass.
This afternoon, Elizabeth dropped in for a cup of tea, in good time to meet Giles and Jean who had come to admire the garden and have a meal with Jackie, Flo, and me. We dined on Jackie’s famous fish dish of smoked haddock, mashed potato, piquant cauliflower cheese (recipe), carrots and runner beans. There was a choice of apple and blackberry crumble or lemon tart, or both. I drank Chateau Chataigniere bordeaux 2012, and the others, except Flo who didn’t. imbibed VinaSol Torres 2013.

A Little D.I.Y. And A Lot Of Creativity

The clematis texansis Duchess of Albany that Jackie planted in the kitchen garden is now blooming.
One side of the back drive is lined with hardy fuchsias.
The window boxes on the front wall have survived hurricane Bertha.
The golden holly I hacked down in the spring because of the number of sports it sported has revived splendidly.
It may not have escaped the notice of my regular readers that I am not exactly a dab hand at D.I.Y. But I do rate a little higher than whoever did most of the work on our house. Near the kitchen sink there is a pair of hooks on a roughly hewn piece of wood on which we have hung our tea towels. Yesterday, never in our time having borne more than three light pieces of cloth, it fell off the wall. We then discovered that it had simply been stuck to the plaster. More than once, by the look of it. I therefore had the task of screwing the makeshift object into place. This involved inspecting my drill-bits and working out which ones were for wood, which for softer masonry, and which for strong brick and breeze block. I only made one minor error in selection. Suitable holes had to be drilled, rawlplugs inserted and screws fixed in place. Should anyone feel inclined to point out the extra hole bottom right, please note that was already there. Maybe someone had first attempted to screw the fixture into position, and found it a little difficult. As will be seen, it is not a pretty structure, and there is a certain amount of making good required. It will, however, be a long time before we begin to tackle the major task of decorating the house, so we will live with that. Even though she was in fear of a crooked fixture, the practical member of our team was able to tear herself away and leave me to it, probably because the attraction of helping Flo identify some of her jewellery-making materials was too strong. Second-hand stones from Jackie’s necklaces and bracelets were being recycled for Flo’s enterprise. The highlight of that activity was when our granddaughter, having applied all the necessary tests, proclaimed that the Russian amber (not from the glass necklace being dismantled in the photograph above) given to Jackie by a house-guest some years ago was plastic.
Later, Flo and I picked the main ingredients for tonight’s dessert which was blackberry and apple crumble, served with custard, evap, or Elmlea faux cream; or any combination therefrom. Our main course was Jackie’s classic sausage casserole (recipe) with crisp roast potatoes and crunchy carrots, cauliflower and broccoli. Jackie drank water, Flo drank apple juice, and I drank Isla Negra cabernet sauvignon 2013.

Famous People

Early this morning I walked down to the Spar shop to buy milk, collect Sheila’s Guardian newspaper, and post her cards. Along the front wall of Cherry Tree Cottage in Shorefield Road stand three trees identical to one in our garden. On previous occasions I have knocked at the door of the house to ask for their identification. No-one has been at home. This morning, I stopped a man who was driving out from there and asked him. ‘I’m no gardener,’ he said. ‘Just golden conifers. We bought them because they are a different colour.’ At least that gave us something to go on. Our research threw up Leylandii false cypresses. Although we are not quite convinced, it is possible that we have one of those.

This morning Jackie drove Sheila and me around: We had toured Bisterne’s similar display last year, so were pleased to find one on our doorstep. In fact, Jackie had investigated the possibility of our entering the competition. Unfortunately, we live on the wrong side of Christchurch Road to be considered Hordle residents. Never mind, that means we count as Milford on Sea and entitles us to the monthly Village Voice magazine, which is quite interesting and contains details of all activities in that area. After admiring today’s hairstyle of Lady Gaga, we bought a map of the trail in Classic Cuts hairdressers at 40 Stopples Lane. At No. 32, Everything Pets featured Barbara Woodhouse with dogs. Charlie Chaplin, we thought one of the best, gave Jack and Dave plugs at the entrance to number 111A. Agatha Christie was backed by two of her creations, Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple, outside 4 Heath Road. Next door, at number 6, Florence Nightingale was being crucified, thus, as Jackie pointed out, making her the only true scarecrow. At No 10 Dick Turpin brandished his pistol in front of a carriage that was invented long after his time. The competition has three categories: Business, Individual, and Junior. There is a certain amount of duplication in the subject matter. The first we came across was of The Queen. One entry, at 33 Lavender Road was Junior. I particularly like the twist in the body of this one: The other, at 25 Pinewood Road, in which a teddy bear had been conscripted to represent a corgi, was an Individual. I thought it fairly unlikely that Her Majesty would read The Sun. We may easily have missed a second Bear (Grylls), had Sheila not spotted him up a tree at 22 Stopples Lane, and I almost did overlook the brilliant touch of the cricket ball in the Junior entry at 41 Lavender Road, where Moeen Ali stood padded up. At 49 Ashley Lane, Simon Cowell presents his recently acquired offspring to his fans and enemies alike. Hordle Pharmacy also featured this gentleman who they kept inside out of the rain. Possibly the censor had exercised some influence over these two exhibits that revealed rather less hairy chest than Mr Cowell would sometimes prefer. Usain Bolt takes a rest outside No 102. William Shakespeare took a little searching out along a footpath to 20 Larch Close. Someone had had the good sense to provide him with an umbrella, which Moeen could certainly have done with.

A smiling Superman soars over a fence at 62 Everton Road. Further along, at number 14, the forecourt of Hordle Post Office has been converted to Knotty Ash in order to accommodate Ken Dodd and The Diddy Men.
Next door to the Pharmacy lies the W.I. Hall outside which Emmeline Pankhurst has chained herself to the railings.
Anyone wishing to know more about the subjects of these scarecrows is invited to consult a suitable search engine, since they are all Famous People, which was the theme of the competition.
This evening Jackie, Flo, and I dined at The Jarna, where we enjoyed the usual excellent fare.

I Think He Was Warning Me Off

Last night those, unlike me, who were awake to see it experienced the phenomenon known as supermoon. The moon in these circumstances is larger and considerably brighter than normal. According to Wikipedia ‘A supermoon is the coincidence of a full moon or a new moon with the closest approach the Moon makes to the Earth on its elliptical orbit, resulting in the largest apparent size of the lunar disk as seen from Earth. The technical name is the perigee-syzygyof the Earth-Moon-Sun system. The term “supermoon” is not astronomical, but originated in modern astrology. The association of the Moon with both oceanic and crustal tides has led to claims that the supermoon phenomenon may be associated with increased risk of events such as earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, but the evidence of such a link is widely held to be unconvincing.’.
A series of photographs I discovered in my camera suggested that Flo had been up and about at the relevant time.
This morning Jackie drove Sheila and me to Milford on Sea, and home via the beach and The Needles Eye Cafe where the ladies drank coffee whilst I wandered along the wave and spray buffeted shingle. Balls of the foam that the Japanese call sea flowers reached the car park as they rolled along in the wind which had torn them from the creamy surface of the water.
Boards along the footpath give details of the damage wrought in the February storms, and an update on the ongoing work. Today the winds were strong enough to make the destruction of concrete beach huts entirely credible. Back in February, barriers were erected around the damage site. Signs suggested a rather optimistic timescale for the necessary work to be completed. There has been considerable delay which will, no doubt continue for some time, because of wrangling over New Forest District Council’s plans to replace all 118 huts. The buildings are privately owned, but on council land. Many of them have been discovered to contain asbestos. The Local Authority wish to replace them all and charge their owners what a repair would cost. Some owners think that replacement is unnecessary; some residents consider them an eyesore anyway and would prefer their removal. I can see this debate outliving some of the protagonists.
For lunch, the rest of us enjoyed pizza and salad, whilst Scooby gnawed at the bone from yesterday’s lamb joint. I think he was silently warning me off.
This afternoon Jackie drove us all to Boscombe, in order to view the:
Community Support Officers were in attendance, and Scooby was happy to be held up by Flo.
We drove round to the cliff above the beach, where Jackie and Sheila remained in the car and Flo and I walked for a while with Scooby. On this extremely blustery day there was very little activity on the beach far below.
Back home Sheila was to take us out to The Royal Oak for dinner. When we arrived we were told there would be a 45 minute wait for food. We didn’t want to wait that long so we drove on to The Crown at Everton which was closed. Next stop was therefore The Plough at Tiptoe, where Jackie and Flo enjoyed the half rack of pork ribs, Sheila the scampi, and I the mixed grill. When you’ve had the mixed grill, that’s it. You do not risk dessert. But Jackie and Flo scoffed creme brulee and Sheila ice cream. I drank Doom Bar. There was Becks for Jackie, Apple juice for Flo, and sparkling water for Sheila

Travels Of A Table

Hurricane Bertha beset Downton this morning, as we drove Sheila to New Milton for her to attend a Quakers meeting. We went off to Tesco superstore for a shop, and by the time we had finished and returned for our friend, Bertha had hastened on her way to London.
The Quaker meeting house put me in mind of Muriel and her table. Muriel Trapp was my Area Manager when I first arrived at Westminster Social Services Department in 1974. Muriel’s funeral in 1980 was the only meeting I have attended. I was impressed by the calm silence we experienced except when someone had something meaningful to say. My former manager had been a Friend.
When Jessica and I first set up home later in the year of my arrival, we bought two second-hand items from Muriel, who lived in North London. I think we paid 50p for the broom and £30 for the table, first setting it up as a dining table in our Lloyd Baker Street flat in North London. This item of furniture is of the kind that is often found in retro-style pubs that are furnished with a hotchpotch of the kind of pieces your mother might pass on to you or buy for you, to equip your first home, from house clearance or charity shops. Already quite elderly forty years ago, it had a central leaf that could be utilised by pulling out the main two that were mostly in use. So rarely had this operation been performed that the unused section was still bright and shiny beneath its scratched and stained companions. It travelled with us to Horse and Dolphin Yard in Soho, and on to Gracedale Road in South London, each time serving the same purpose. When we moved to Newark, where a long kitchen table was already installed, it was converted to an arts table at which we sat to make and paint things. We kept it clean, but a few ink stains were inevitably added to its surface.
In 1997 Jessica’s siblings gave us our first computer. Muriel’s table then became a computer table, and remained as such until, in 2006, I moved back to London. It reverted to my dining table in Hyde Park Square and again in Leinster Mews. When, in 2007, I moved to Sutherland Place, it was transported to Elizabeth’s garage in West End, Southampton. At some stage, my sister’s garage/workshop suffered a leak. A little mildew consequently mingled with the other surface stains.
In 2009, Muriel’s table was scraped clear of vegetable matter, crossed the channel and became the kitchen dining table in my house in Sigoules. A year or two later I bought another table for the kitchen and moved the subject of this story to the sitting room where, once again it became a table for a computer and various other gentle activities. In the picture it bears a notebook, a camera, a bowl of walnuts, a number of dictionaries, and Michael and Heidi’s wedding group photograph. The walnuts were a gift from Chris’s lifelong friend Mike Ozga and his wife Oona. They brought these from their own garden about 30 odd kilometers away in Acquitaine.
When Sheila visited The New Forest last year we had, at her request, gone in a fruitless search for Sway Tower. The following October Jackie and I found it, and I featured it as Peterson’s Folly. Today we took Sheila to see it.
This evening we all dined on a wonderful roast lamb dinner, followed by rice pudding. I finished the Medoc, Jackie drank the last of the Lambrusco, and Ian drank Hoegaarden. Sheila’s choice was sparkling water. After this Becky and Ian returned home, leaving Flo and Scooby with us.

Flo’s Frog

Soon after midday Jackie and I drove to New Milton to collect our friend Sheila who has joined the family group. After lunch, Jackie, Flo, Sheila, and I went on a hunt for Becky, Ian, and Scooby, who had gone ‘to the beach’. They were not at Milford on Sea. They were not at Barton on Sea. We left them various mobile messages which they eventually picked up when they got home, and we were at Barton on Sea. Inevitable, I suppose. We joined them at home, where they told us the story of the Scotch egg. Whilst on the beach they watched a family having a picnic. A seagull swooped on the food and made off with a whole Scotch egg. This was clearly too heavy for it. It dropped it. Right under their dog, Scooby’s, nose. Manna from Heaven. He didn’t stop to question his luck. He devoured it immediately.
Our conversations ranged through cricket, crosswords, community projects like Commonside in Mitcham, and local politics. Commonside, where Becky worked for ten years, is in the London Borough of Merton; Jackie worked for Merton Social Services Department for more that thirty years; Sheila, Director of Merton Mind until the funding ran out earlier in the year, and a Merton Councillor for more than fifty years, had trained as a Social Worker with me at Croydon in the class of 1969/70. We had not known it before, but in our teens Sheila and I both frequented the Oval, Surrey County Cricket ground, and Sheila had worked opposite Mitcham Cricket Club’s ground which prompted the story of ‘Six Leg Byes’ told on 17th June 2012. The main cricket focus today came from this the third day of the Old Trafford Test match between England and India. England won the game in very quick time, two days early.
I accompanied Jackie giving Sheila a tour of the garden. We have an even darker pink variety of Japanese anemone now in bloom, and the penstemons are flourishing.
In addition to the jewellery Flo is spending her time making, she has started to produce wire animals, bringing all her natural skill in reproducing a wide range of creatures, perfectly proportioned and with life-like stances, in a variety of art forms. She used my camera to photograph a frog and e-mail it to a friend. She was very patient as I stumbled my way through explaining the the process on my iMac.
This evening we all dined on Jackie’s superb sausage casserole (recipe), mashed potato, and crisp vegetables, followed by jelly and ice cream. Lambrusco, Marquis de St.Vincent Medoc 2012, and Hoegaarden were the drinks on offer.