The Leap

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(YVONNE SPOILER ALERT. THE RECIPE IS NOT YET READY, BUT YOU MAY WISH TO AVERT YOUR EYES FROM THE FINAL PARAGRAPH)

Late in the morning Jackie drove us to Nomansland where we lunched in the Lamb Inn.

Even at midday, ponies on the green outside dined on defrosted food, avoiding the refrigerated options.

In the hostelry, beside a fine log fire, and beneath a display of character jugs, I enjoyed a burger, chips, and Doom Bar beer; while Jackie chose a bacon, brie, and cranberry baguette with coffee.

As we drove away, we passed a rider who led her steed through the gate to her left.

At St Peter’s Church, Bramshaw, the autumn leaves blended well with the groggy lichen-covered gravestones, mostly dating from the eighteenth century. Steep steps lead up the hill from the roadside; there is also a slope to the side, no doubt for those parishioners who cannot climb.

Most of the structure seemed to be Georgian in date, although one stone wall looked older,

and I am not enough of an architectural historian to date this fascinating chimney.

Thinking it unlikely that the Modus would obstruct anyone, Jackie tucked it in beside the church. She was unlucky. Along came a hedge cutting machine.

We paused at Wootton so I could photograph a couple of ponies drinking from a stream. As I raised my camera, one leaped from the water to the bank above.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious liver casserole, crunchy carrots and green beans, with creamy mashed potato. She drank sparkling water and I drank Collin-Bourisset Fleurie 2015.

Dawn Over The Isle Of Wight

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This morning my muse woke me with a start and uttered something about catching Dawn. What had Dawn done? I wondered. And who was she, anyway? Then it dawned on me. This was an invitation to watch a pink sky over the Isle of Wight. I prised myself out of bed, staggered into some clothes, and joined Jackie who was engaged in defrosting the car windscreen.

Down Downton Lane we hurtled, and came to an abrupt halt in the nearest coastal car park. I kept my eyes open long enough to operate the camera and totter back into the car.

The single baleful eye of The Needles lighthouse gave the impression that the Loch Ness Monster had moved house, and a solitary gull was up early.

This afternoon we shopped at Odd Spot in Burley

then went on driveabout. The oaks

opposite Longmead Farm have all but lost their leaves now.

Horses in the field now wear their rugs,

and a vast snuffling sow wandered out to investigate my activities.

Our return trip took us along Rhinefield Ornamental Drive.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic liver casserole, mashed potatoes, crunchy carrots and green beans. I drank water, and Jackie didn’t.

The Nightingale

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Today Jackie drove me to and from New Milton for my trip to London to visit Luci and Wolf.

I travelled from Waterloo by the Northern Line Underground to Clapham South.

Luci met me at Costa Coffee opposite the station

and drove me to The Nightingale for lunch. This characterful Victorian pub still sports the etched windows of the period.

We both enjoyed fish, chips, and mushy peas. I drank Doom Bar, whilst Luci drank a pleasant non-alcoholic beer. I had no need for further sustenance this evening.

Giving Wolf time to complete his own lunch in the rather splendid care home that is Nightingale House, we visited him first in his well-appointed room, then for tea in the establishment’s cafe. The couple showed me Wolf’s photograph book containing top quality prints made by my friend’s son Simon.

I share one page with Wolf. Luci took this photograph c2009.

In the meantime Jackie produced a recipe for her Pork Paprika, as requested by our friend Jessie. I sent this on to the intended recipient.

Xmas Show

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This morning I made some prints for Christmas presents, before visiting Margery and Paul at:

This ever popular exhibition did not disappoint in its array of art works in different media, reasonably enough priced to make for good, unpressurised Christmas shopping.

Margery’s own charming clown cushion makes a good start.

Lucille Scott’s snails would decorate any garden.

There is much good jewelry on a par with these necklaces.

Deborah Richards’s ceramic sculptures are a highlight.

I liked Ruth Facey’s wire pictures.

Rita Rouw’s Lounge Lady, reflecting the note of humour in the exhibition, has an air of Beryl Cook.

The cock and cats at the top of the stairs seems a happy juxtapostion.

On the way up are a row of Josephine Sumner’s colourful linocuts,

opposite which are strings of fish.

The contents of this shelf in the kitchen may or may not be for sale. Whether or not, they are examples of the objects around this home that display the best part of a century’s fascination with all forms of creativity.

There is still another week in which to visit the show.

We spent that afternoon with Elizabeth and Mum in turn at their respective homes in West End.

way home we noticed that a number of the small towns, like Lyndhurst, have switched on their Christmas lights.

There was enough of yesterday’s Indian takeaway for, with the addition of onion bahjis, second helpings this evening. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I finished the madiran.

Watching

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Today was pretty murky. This morning, through the window I watched blackbirds feeding on crab apples. They generally dropped the fruit onto the ground, flew down and ate them where they fell.

This afternoon and early evening was spent watching rugby on T.V.

First came Scotland (in striped shirts) v. Georgia (in red).

Wales (in red) v. South Africa (in green) was to follow.

Finally we had England (in dark blue) v. Argentina (in blue and white stripes).

Any text would be in danger of spoiling. That lets me of the hook.

Jackie collected a takeaway meal from The Raj in Old Milton for ou evening meal. She drank Hoegaarden whilst I drank Reserve des Tuguets Madiran 2014. My main meal was naga prawn with special fried rice; we shared poppadoms, pooris, paratha, and sag bahji.

In A Different Light

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The car was repaired this morning and passed its M.O.T. test whilst it was at it. We therefore celebrated with a drive to Keyhaven and back.

The outward trip was via Barnes Lane and Milford on Sea.

The tide was far out. Without water on which to float, the damaged boat, Blue Dawn, lurched even more than it had a couple of days ago.

Hurst Castle, its lighthouse, and the recumbent hulk that is the Isle of Wight were all more clearly visible.

There were fewer birds about. Tinkling of the wind chimes in the yachts’ rigging replaced the honking of geese and the squabbling of seagulls.

Like a lofted shuttlecock, a helicopter whirred overhead.

Leaving Jackie in the car, I walked along the pebbled shore, past the paddling birds near the castle, and round the bend as the sea wall makes way for a coastal footpath.

Spotting a potential passage through the undergrowth to the promenade, I pushed through it. On the upper level I was warned off by a big beautiful beast. Scaling a slope with vociferous open jaws ahead of me and brambles encircling my legs, I was loath to miss a photo opportunity, although not in complete control of the framing. Clearly no stranger to the camera lens, my subject sheathed its fangs and adopted an angelic expression. My canine friend at last obeyed its master’s voice, and caught up with him and his more obedient companion, whilst I made my way back to the car in the opposite direction, there to

bid farewell to waders and gulls. The apparently preening cygnet is in fact a stray buoy.

It is fair to say that we had achieved our aim to see Keyhaven in a different light.

This evening we dined on lean beef burgers, new potatoes, and crunchy cauliflower, followed by blackberry, apple, and plum crumble with vanilla ice cream. I finished the Côte du Rhone.

Marylebone And St John’s Wood

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The car broke down as Jackie was leaving for a shop yesterday afternoon. We counted our blessings that this had not happened during our weekend trip to Nottingham. It did, however, mean that a domestic day was in order. Consequently I scanned another dozen colour slides from the Streets of London Series (May – June 2004). These were uploaded into WordPress without too much need for gnashing of teeth.

Manchester Street W1, Lies between Baker Street and Marylebone High Street;

not far away is the Danish Express Laundry on the corner of Marylebone Lane at 16 Hinde Street, W1. This appears to be very popular.

Still in Marylebone, was this gentleman attending to the water supply?

There was the ubiquitous scaffolding in nearby Welbeck Street, W1;

and, in Portland Place, near Cavendish Place, W1, an example of the imaginative screening that is sometimes erected round more extensive building works.

Regular readers will realise that the music posters in Margaret Street are out of focus because I was fixed on featuring John Prince’s Street sign. Kevin Little is clearly visible, but I cannot read the legend of the young lady who also adorns the post. I think she is the UK R & B singer, Javine.

Margaret Street/Marylebone Passage W1 5.04

Wikipedia tells us:

“The London Fo Guang Shan Temple is located at 84 Margaret Street, London W1.^[1] It was established in 1992 and is also known as International Buddhist Progress Society. It is one of two British branches of Fo Guang Shan Monastery, Taiwan.^[2]

The temple is located in a former parish school and Church House of 1868-70 designed by William Butterfield. The building is grade II* listed.^[3]”

On the wall of the earlier religious establishment can be seen the remnants of its contemporary street sign.

Bucknall Street, WC2 lies just south of New Oxford Street. Scaffolding was also in place there. The wood block is probably in situ to prevent drivers mounting the kerb in this narrow little street.

The Traders Inn at 52 Church Street on the corner of Salisbury Street, NW8, stands on a site from which gas masks were issued in 1939. Memories of that time are recorded in http://www.churchstreetmemories.org.uk/page/bert_black

Whoever parked his or her bike in Ashbridge Street, NW8, was taking a risk. Perhaps the reflected gentleman using the public phone box hadn’t yet caught up with the mobile revolution.

The two figures in this photograph are indicative of the multi-cultural nature of our capital. Gateforth Street NW8 was named Capland Street until 1915. The Duke of York was rebuilt in its present form in 1932, and closed in 2007, three years after it entertained followers of Euro 2004. I believe it is now a restaurant.

St Cyprian’s Church commemorates the third century Christian martyr and Bishop of Carthage. The current building dates from 1903, and its history is told in: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Cyprian’s,_Clarence_Gate

This evening we dined on Jackie’s perfect pork paprika, new potatoes, and crunchy carrots and cauliflower. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I drank more of the Côtes du Rhone. Observant readers will note that we have enjoyed this basically Hungarian dish three days in succession. That is because, fortunately, the Culinary Queen had made enough for six servings.

A Little Help From My Friends

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Today dawned dull and dry, so Jackie and I took an early drive to Keyhaven harbour and ambled along the sea wall.

Many boats were peacefully moored after the recent gales,

although one looked a bit of a wreck.

Except when silhouetted against the grey waters, well camouflaged wading birds, picking their way among pebbles and seaweed in the shallows, scuttled to and fro, pausing to probe promising crevices.

I can recognise swans and a cygnet,

and I am fairly confident that this is a redshank, and that many of the others will be the same, but for clear identification I will need a little help from my birding friends.

I imagine that these are more overwintering Brent geese that we saw at Lepe, but I am not sure. In the foreground of the landscape photographs are many more of our own waterfowl.

Quite a few birdwatchers walked along the wall with their dogs. Unfortunately there was evidence that some owners bring their pets out to empty them, as we put it.

Hurst Castle and its lighthouse were visible through the haze.

The website of this historic building tells us:

“The History of Hurst Castle

Hurst Castle is situated at the seaward end of the shingle spit that extends 1.5 miles from Milford-On-Sea. The end of the spit, only three-quarters of a mile from the Isle of Wight, and the views from the top of the centre keep are spectacular.

Hurst Castle was the perfect location to defend the western approach to the Solent. The castle was built by Henry VIII as one of a chain of coastal fortresses and was completed in 1544.

Charles I was imprisoned here in 1648 before being taken to London to his trial and execution.

The castle was modernised during the Napoleonic wars and again in the 1870’s when the enormous armoured wings were constructed. Two of the huge 38-ton guns installed in the 1870’s can be viewed in their casemates.

During World War II, Hurst was manned with coastal gun batteries and searchlights.

Since the castle has been opened to the public many more exhibits and exhibitions have been installed, including the Trinity House lighthouse museum.”

On our way from Keyhaven to Hurst Spit, Jackie spotted a pair of mittens fitted on the lichen-covered limb of a bare tree. Although the slow-growing pale green organism suggests that its host is fairly elderly, I think the gloves have not been placed there to keep it warm, but to alert the parents of a small child who now has cold fingers.

When we passed them earlier, the Isle of Wight and The Needles had been invisible. Just before noon, the emerging sun revealed them.

Steamed syrup pudding and custard followed Jackie’s spicy paprika pork with wild rice and green beans for our dinner this evening. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Séguret Côtes du Rhone Villages, 2014.

Ever-Changing Skies

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Aaron of A.P. Maintenance has recently completed the last section of fencing, and reorganised the compost bins. Today, he and his nephew Rory took away some of the resultant rubbish. This photograph is one of the few that I was able to take today in sunshine and with a dry camera.

During the rest of the day I was in and out to the garden attempting a few photographs of plants enjoying the sunshine and the showers. Perhaps only the duck and the frog were really in their element. The rain bejewelled primulas, daffodils, camellias, clematis cirrhosa, hellebores, iris, pulmonaria, and faux poppy sat for me quite nicely.

By mid-afternoon I conceded victory to the wind which enforced such rapid changes in the skies that all this last batch of pictures were produced within minutes during which rain fell continuously. Clouds rolled rapidly across the Heavens, sometimes concealing, sometimes revealing the sun

throwing its glowing light on this holly trunk against a sludgy bank of cloud.

This evening we dined on minced beef pie, creamy mashed potato and swede, red cabbage, crunchy carrots, leeks, and onions. I finished the merlot.

A Murmuration

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An underground problem with installation of the new phone line required further attention today. This necessitated a visit from another engineer who completed the task.

Jackie then drove us around the forest in a very wet late afternoon.

Much rain has fallen during our weekend away. Familiar pools have returned to the forest floor.

The moorland in the rain took on a dramatic aspect as the clouds unloaded their precipitation.

Between Brockenhurst and Beaulieu, the River Lymington has burst its banks.

Sunset is early at this time of the year;

it is a reflection of the different light today that this is the same clump of trees beside Hatchet Pond that I photographed at virtually the same time from a slightly different angle yesterday.

As we waited at the level crossing on the approach to Lymington, an elliptical disc that was a murmuration of starlings slid around the skies.

This evening we dined on roast lamb with roast potatoes and crunchy carrots and cauliflower. I drank Clervigny Arbois, 2014