November 2015 – Page 2 – derrickjknight

A Sale

I received confirmation this morning, that my piece ‘Not The Comic Book Hero’ will appear on livelytwist tomorrow.

Although today was much brighter, it is now cold and the rampant winds ravage the garden. The tops of the cold frame at the side of the front of the house were ripped off and distributed elsewhere. I replaced them and battened them down with rocks.

The Head Gardener’s research has revealed that the flowering cherry in the front garden is not performing out of season. It is Prunus Subhirtella Autumnalis.

I printed up the recycling and disposal section of the garden album.

This afternoon Jackie drove us to Elizabeth’s, whence the three of us, in my sister’s car, collected Mum and went on to The First Gallery where we spent a customary pleasant time talking with our friends Margery and Paul, and having a look round the exhibits.

As we drove across the forest, a sudden emergency stop was required when one of the ponies took it into its head to cross the road. Some warning signs now bear the legend ‘Expect Them To Step Out’. That is why.

Beaulieu was really rather swarming with the beasts, some of whom trotted happily down the middle of the main road through the village. This one was really stepping it out, for a New Forest Pony.

Others clustered around the lake at low tide, possibly envying the waterfowl their ownership of it.

I have sold a few photographs in my time, but, up until now, only greetings cards have been bought at The First Gallery. I was therefore pleased to learn that the picture of Quay Street on the left of my little corner has been purchased.

Afterwards, Mum, Elizabeth, Jackie, and I dined at Farmers Home in Durley. The meals and service were as good and attentive as usual. My choice was beef Wellington followed by Eton Mess; Jackie’s was mushroom Stroganoff with sticky toffee pudding for dessert; Elizabeth’s beef Wellington with frozen berries to follow; Mum’s crab fish cakes with creme brûlée afterwards. I drank Ringwood’s bitter; Jackie sparkling water; Elizabeth shiraz; and Mum, orange juice.

As we entered the Modus to return home the thermometer read 0 degrees, which was quite a shock after the mild weeks we have been experiencing.

A Bead Curtain

Mike of ‘Perfect Plastering’, lived up to his company name as he completed the fitting of our new bath and tiling today. He has done an excellent job.

Jackie spent much of the day on one of her sororal lunches, whilst I had a brief visit from our friend Alison.

‘Walking In The Sea’, is, in my view, B. J. Haynes’s best novel to date. I was unable to put down my copy, and read this little book in two sittings. One reason, undoubtedly, was because it is quite short. The most compelling one, however, is that I wanted the mystery to unravel. I won’t spoil the story with details, but will simply say that the clear, spare, prose races along; that the dialogue is convincing; and that Barrie’s quirky humour strikes just the right balance.

The cover design is by the author’s granddaughter, Amber Cooke.

When I attempted to put this review on Amazon Books UK, I was prevented from doing so without buying a copy. Barrie’s generosity is such that I don’t need to purchase one. So here is what I would have posted on there.

Not to be outdone by those on yesterday’s Japanese maple, the raindrops sliding down the slender, pendulous, threads of our weeping birch have provided a bead curtain separating that tree’s bed from the South End of the garden.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s perky paprika pork and special fried rice.

Early Christmas Lights

Mike, the plumber came today and made excellent progress on fitting the new bath and retiling the guest bathroom.

Jackie continued potting up plants for the cold frames and greenhouses.

I received a positive response from livelytwist, and began the second volume of the garden album bye mounting the sections on Phantom and Helicon Paths.

Today was wet, but the wind had dropped and the temperature still very warm. Raindrops clung to numerous plants, such as

snapdragons

and nasturtiums, which knew very well they should have succumbed limply to cold weather by now;

and the leaves of the red Japanese maple have been transformed into early Christmas lights.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s perfect pork paprika (‘Don’t ask for a recipe. I haven’t got one’), a special fried rice, followed by bananas sliced into vanilla and caramel ice cream with toffee sauce. Jackie drank sparkling water and I drank more of the Malbec.

In Keeping

Today’s winds were, if anything, even faster than yesterday’s. The morning was, however, dry and sunny. This was when Jackie provided the solution predicted by paulinekingblog.wordpress.com. Pauline had faith that Jackie would come up with an answer to the battering that the plastic self-assembled greenhouses have been subjected to for the last week or so.

The Grow-arcs have been removed from the side of the house, separated, and firmly fixed elsewhere.

One is screwed to the fence between front and back gardens;

the other to the back of the garden shed.

Anyone who has followed my blog for any length of time will be aware that many items of our predecessors’ dubious D.I.Y. efforts still bore price labels and bar codes attached to their materials, often upside down.

Therefore, in keeping with the custom, Jackie left a Milford Supplies price label stuck on one of the brass brackets that hold the greenhouses in place.

These structures remained firm in the face of today’s gales.

I spent much of the afternoon perfecting and e-mailing my submission to livelytwist.

This evening we dined on pork rack of ribs in barbecue sauce, Jackie’s delicious special fried rice, and runner beans. The Cook drank Hoegaarden, whilst my choice was Trivento reserve Malbec 2014.

Cherry Blossom

Today, perhaps thinking cherry blossom had no business blooming in our front garden just six weeks before Christmas, 54 m.p.h. winds strove unsuccessfully to rip the flowers from their ultra-flexible branches.

Perhaps it was therefore serendipitous that, among the unsorted negatives from 1983 that I identified and scanned this afternoon, I should have found more of those featured in ‘A Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On’.

Hannah, Ben, and Sam frolic here in May 1983.

I also discovered more of the holiday, later in the year Jessica, Sam, Louisa, Matthew, Becky and I enjoyed in North Wales.

A couple more of Sam planted on a cow by Matthew, are now included.

Here are some portraits of Jessica:

and one of me taken by her.

This evening we dined at The Smugglers Inn in Milford on Sea. Jackie chose chicken supreme and Peroni beer; I enjoyed Cajun pork and Doom Bar. We had eaten a good quantity of our meals before I thought to photograph them, but you get the picture.

Poppy At Twelve Weeks

Timi, that very talented writer of livelytwist has done me the honour of inviting a piece of writing for a current project of hers. In the car on the way to Upper Dicker to visit Matthew, Tess, and Poppy, I jotted down some notes for this.

Jackie and I spent a lovely day with the family. Tess was working in the shop, so we waited for a lull in the very busy cafe section, then lunched on gypsy toast; perfectly poached eggs; thick, lean, bacon; mushroom, tomatoes; and chips that our mothers would have been proud of. French, German, or Spanish, and the much more exotic gypsy are all names for what we know as eggy bread. The dish consists of bread soaked in beaten egg and then fried.

We had no need of further sustenance when we arrived back home this evening.

Grannie was proud to push her granddaughter in the pram when we went with Mat for a walk along Coldharbour Road.

Poppy was awake for most of the time. She is alert and interested, reaching out for such as Jackie’s pearl necklace.

Her favourite sleeping position appeared to be in the crook of her Dad’s arm.

Naturally I had a turn at holding her.

West Kennet Long Barrow

Drawn by the extravagant breakdance being performed outside our sitting room window by the unidentified peach rose, clearly far more resilient than plastic greenhouses, I ventured outside into the wild, weirdly warming, winds with my camera.

The rose surged backwards and forwards, defying my efforts at focussing;

those in their dedicated garden, where Summertime still has a presence, were more sheltered.

Margaret Merrill, lives up to her top autumn rose billing,

and carpet rose Kent rivals the fallen beech leaves for ground cover.

With a warning of frost and maybe snow in a week’s time, it was probably apt that the batch of colour slides from December 1976 should contain snow scenes. That was a very cold winter following an extremely hot summer.

Jessica, Michael and I were staying with her parents in their beamed and thatched house in Wootton Rivers, Wiltshire.

Mark Pearson, who, had he lived, would have been my father-in-law stands here in front of his home.

The snow was not deep at this time, but there was enough to turn simple ironwork into bejewelled necklaces;

to transform branches of trees into festive yule logs;

and ploughed fields, along which Jessica and Michel walk, into scenic Christmas cake icing.

Piper joins them in this picture. The boy to the left could be Jessica’s nephew, Tim Draper.

Here, Michael trudges on after the others.

We had, then unbeknown to me, found ourselves atop West Kennet Long Barrow.

The West Kennet Long Barrow is a prehistoric burial mound near Avebury. It is one of the largest and best-preserved monuments of its kind in Britain. Only the East Kennet Barrow is longer than this one’s 100 meters. Although we did not do so, visitors,can enter the barrow and explore five empty stone chambers in which humans were buried from 3700 to 2000 BC.

In all, the bones of about 46 individuals have been found in the chambers of the barrow. It appears that bodies were buried in social groups: the west chamber was mainly for adult males; the northeast and northwest chambers for mixed adults; the southeast for the old and the southwest chamber for children.

The tombs contained numerous grave goods, including pottery of various kinds (fragments of 250 different vessels were discovered); beads made of bone, stone and shells; flint tools; and animal bones. The pottery spans a long range of time, from the Earlier to Late Neolithic periods.

I didn’t know the amount of history that lay beneath us.

This evening we dined on the last of the shepherd’s pie; extra mashed potato, a steamed cauliflower and Brussel’s sprouts, all flavour retained. Apple and raisin cake with cream was to follow.

Swimming With Turtles

Another day of violent rains and heavy winds has done for our self-assembly greenhouses. The new, stronger, ones have had their structure smashed. We have to rethink.

Today was far too sodden and blustery to do other than loose the ties that we thought might keep them in place, and lay the contraptions on the ground.

I did some ironing and some scanning of more colour slides from the Barbados trip of March 2004.

Here is a selection from a swimming trip in the waters of Port St Charles harbour:

Louisa just had to join the turtles, like pebbles washed by tidal waters, the colours of their carapaces brightly contrasting with their natural element which reflected the skies above.

In this last picture, Jessica’s toes curl at top left.

Traditional Sunday lunch in our youth was always roast beef or lamb, with all the trimmings. This would be followed the next day by Monday pie. The left over meat was minced with the aid of a Spong, and cottage or shepherd’s pie, depending on whether beef or lamb had been on the menu, would be produced. These weekly traditions are no longer adhered to, so we can have roast lamb any day of the week, as we did yesterday. Tonight, however, Jackie produced Monday pie for our dinner. Not being in possession of a mixer, she chopped up the meat by hand. If you think that is impressive, you should see her chop a garlic.

This delicious variation on the pie theme was served with lightly steamed carrot batons, and sautéed spinach and leeks. Apple and raisin cake and custard was to follow. The Cook drank sparkling water, and I drank Old Crafty Hen ale.

She Mistook My Brogues For Acorns

Barrie and Vicki dropped in this morning to present me with Barrie’s new book, ‘Walking in the Sea’. I look forward to reading it.

Ever since my lingering cold in August, I have been feeling decidedly under par, so Jackie persuaded me to visit the GP, made the appointment, and drove me there. After a thorough examination, Dr. Moody-Jones formed the opinion that I have a specific infection and prescribed antibiotics. I have confidence in the diagnosis. We’ll see how we go.

On a very sunny afternoon Jackie drove us through the forest. We enjoyed wood- and heathlands, and the livestock that, having right of way in the New Forest, roam the terrain and the roads.

Pools, such as this one formed near Bolderwood, are beginning to varnish the forest floor.

We stopped for a while near the Ornamental Arboretum.

Next stop was Nomansland where ponies grazed on the green,

where the lowering sun cast long shadows and glinted in the animals’ eyes.

The matted, crusty, hide of some of these creatures bore evidence of how muddy their environment has become.

As we drove back along Roger Penny Way, a grunting sow followed by squawking offspring, clambering all over each other in their haste, burst through the bracken, dashed along the verge, and came to a halt among a heap of fallen leaves and acorns. They were just like the proverbial pigs in a trough. I was amazed at the amount of noise they made.

At one point the mother left her brood, advanced on me, and, her nose rings grating on my toes, snotted all over my light tan brogues. Eventually she realised they were not acorns, and returned to the trough.

On the approach to Beaulieu, a group of cattle, and one pony, grazed on the heath in the warm glow of the setting sun.

Just before we reached the village, rounding the bend in a narrow road, we came hard up against the reason for a bit of a hold-up. A donkey, its rear hooves planted in the road, calmly chomped in a hedge.

This evening we dined on roast lamb, mint sauce, roast and mashed potatoes, carrots, cabbage and corn on the cob. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I abstained.

There’s Always Work Going On

Having, yesterday, mounted the Brick Path section in the first volume of garden album, I decided to leave the last four sheets blank for subsequent updates. Each of the previous sets of entries has been divided by a similar virgin page. Today I printed up the Phantom Path section with which to start volume two.

I then scanned another set of the Streets of London colour slides from April 2005.

It is not possible to walk these streets without some work going on. Examples of this include:

Scaffolding in Wyndham Place, off Crawford Street, W1,

and in Duke Street;

roadworks in Devonshire Place, W1;

and redevelopment of Warren Street Station subway on Euston Road NW1.

As far as I remember, that hole in the pavement remained for many months. I never saw anyone working on it. Similarly, I think Warren Street station users were actually inconvenienced for quite a while.

Perhaps this rubbish on the corner of Cabbell Street, NW1 was left legitimately by Panini Sandwich Bar around the corner.

On another corner of Wyndham Place stands the Duke of Wellington pub, with its eponym keeping watch from an upstairs window.

The Iron Duke is not exactly represented by a mural, but our capital does sport many, some commissioned, some not. The plaque affixed to the building in Noel Street, W1, informs us that Louise Vines painted its mural, ‘Ode to the West Wind’ on behalf of London Wall in 1980, when their phone number was still valid.

This street trader in Stratford Place, on the corner of HMV in Oxford Street is one of many tucked into this major thoroughfare. Even ten years ago, the mobile phone was much in evidence.

Among this batch of slides were some of the shrubbery in Lindum House garden, from that same month.

This one shows, on the left hand edge, the grid of a wooden arch I constructed with Mike Kindred, spanning the path through the orchard, seen her in full blossom. To the right is the roof of the bungalow John built himself on a plot of land that had once formed part of our garden. The story of how our neighbour saved our drawing room ceiling is told in ‘A Screwdriver Comes In Handy’.

This evening we enjoyed further helpings of the Hordle Chinese Take Away meal. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I drank sparkling water.