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It is almost a truism that when I aim my camera at a bird, it flies away. I therefore focussed on this thrush through the window. This time it gave me a chance. Not until it turned and looked at me did it flee from its shrubbery hide.
This afternoon I printed the last set of Poppy pictures to be entered in the album that Jackie is keeping.
I then scanned the last few of the 1985 black and white negatives.
Here are two scenes of the countryside, in the form of fence and woodland;
two of Sam with the children’s adopted dog, and one Louisa showing all the signs of being ready for bed.
Back home we spent Christmas Day at my parents’ home in Rougemont Avenue, Morden. Here are Dad and my brother Joseph;
Auntie Gwen;
and Louisa and Sam with Jessica in the background.
The rest of that Christmas visit was filmed in colour.
This evening Jackie collected our usual delicious meal for two from Mister Chatty Man Chan at Hordle Chinese Take Away, and, as is the norm, we consumed half of it. I drank more of the cabernet sauvignon.
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This afternoon we drove to Homebase in Christchurch and purchased a lavatory seat, a handle for the cistern, and a tin of touch up paint to cover a repair to the guest bathroom wall where a visitor had pulled the towel rail off.
After this we toured the forest until after dark.
Some way north of Ibsley our path was blocked for a good fifteen minutes by an obdurate bovine that, head down and white tail swishing, made its deliberate, stubborn, way down the centre of the road. Even the approach of another car did not deter this red cow. Eventually we were able to draw level, by driving onto the grass verge. The idea was to take a close-up photograph with the window open. An upturned head, and a warning bellow gave me second thoughts. The creature then turned left and continued down to a ford which it crossed by means of the footbridge. Giving a couple of ponies a wide birth the animal carried on up the opposite slope and vanished from sight.
A 4X4 then crossed the ford and stopped alongside me. The driver asked me if I had been photographing the deer. When I explained our interest in the cow, she explained that this was a ‘rogue’. It was quite aggressive and possibly dangerous. Efforts were being made to trace the owner, because it needed ‘to be taken out of the forest’.
Jackie had seen the deer and pointed them out. I walked back to the ford to photograph them. Despite the distance, at each click of the camera, more of the creatures raced across the field, as if they were posing for the Lascaux caves.
Further on along the road, we passed two more families behind the trees, with others on the far side of a fence. They were more inquisitive.
Up on the moor at Abbots Well, we watched a sunset rather more muted than of late.
The pool in which these trees were reflected had been dryer a couple of weeks ago.
On our way back, at two different points along an unlit Roger Penny Way, three deer and a pig risked their lives by running across in front of the car. The pig was intent on joining its snuffling, snorting, grunting, family hoovering up a fine crop of beech nuts.
We stopped for a drink at The White Hart in Pennington on our way home. We then dined on Jackie’s lovely lamb curry, onion rice, and naans. I drank a glass of Axis 251 Coonawarra cabernet sauvignon 2015.
On a dry, but much duller, day we spent the morning on largely abortive outings. First we drove to New Milton for a visit to the bank, to seek a lavatory seat, and to investigate wardrobes. The bank was satisfactory, but boring. We couldn’t find a throne (slang for a lavatory seat). We thought Bradbeers might stock wardrobes, but its outlet in Station Road didn’t have furniture.
OK, we thought we would put the wardrobes on the back burner, turned round, and drove in the opposite direction to Lymington where that wonderful hardware emporium, Knights, was bound to have a range of the required seating. Unfortunately Knights was closed. Permanently.
Back we travelled to Old Milton where there was a street I thought might have a suitable furniture shop. And blow me, there was Bradbeers furniture outlet with a wide range of wardrobes. We will be able to find something there once we have measured up.
Milford Supplies did have a limited range of toilet seats, none of which, we thought, suited our requirements.
By this time we needed to stock up on petrol, which, in the event, was all that we bought. How ridiculous is that?
Jackie has begun to transfer her hanging baskets to cold frames for the winter. In offering most minimal assistance, I noticed a self-seeded pansy pushing through the patio paving. It is a winter one of course, but there it sat beside an autumn leaf.
Outside the back door stands an orange poppy, normally long gone by autumn.
Still thriving geraniums merge with autumn-hued hydrangeas;
clematis Star of India is one of several blooming again;
foxgloves refuse to die back;
and flowering nasturtiums trail tendrils everywhere.
Approaching the middle of November, how ridiculous is that?
This evening we dined on Jackie’s excellent lamb curry, onion rice, and cauliflower bahji. The Culinary Queen drank diet Pepsi, and I finished the malbec.
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Becky and Ian returned home at lunchtime. I spent the afternoon printing off a draft novel a friend has sent me, doing me the honour of seeking my opinion on the work.
We left the printer processing the last few pages and set off for Tanners Lane to witness the sunset.
Naturally we were obliged to take our time in the queue to the beach. Some of the ponies sported day-glo orange to make sure they were noticed.
While waiting for a clear path we observed the evening light on the Isle of Wight in the distance.
This glow lent lively colours to the beach and sea waters at high, lapping, tide; and, of course, the Island, The Needles, and the lighthouse.
One other photographer was abroad. Naturally we had a chat.
Eventually, the sun sank low enough for the Electric Light Show to begin.
Back home this evening, Jackie and I dined on her wonderful sausage casserole, mashed potato, and boiled carrots, cauliflower, and Brussels sprouts. I drank Mendoza Bodega Toneles malbec 2012.
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The four of us brunched today at Beachcomber cafe on the cliff top at Barton on Sea, within sight of The Isle of Wight and The Needles.
The day’s ever-changing light laid a haze over the ponies on Barton Common. Although these animals roam freely like any other New Forest pony, for their own protection, they are fenced along the road through to the coast.
Various walkers cast their shadows across the beach.
I am not sure of the purpose of the stationary working boat that rested on the sun-slashed ocean surface beneath the indigo skies.
The Beachcomber was as well patronised as usual; the food was good, and the service efficient and friendly.
Shortly before sunset I walked down Downton Lane and along the path through Roger’s fields. The sky bore a strangely sepia hue,
until the lowering sun set the cottages and fields alight,
and sent lightning flashes overhead.
This evening we dined on perfectly roasted lamb and potatoes; stuffing; crunchy cauliflower, carrots, and runner beans; gravy with lots of goodies, and mint sauce; followed by spicy pumpkin pie and cheesecake. Ian drank Peroni; the ladies, Australian white wine; and I finished the rioja.
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Late this bright, sunny, and chilly, morning, Becky and Ian, Jackie and I, motored to Steamer Point for brunch in The Friars Cliff Cafe.
Blue sky and cotton clouds reflected their hues in ocean stripes against the backcloth of the Isle of Wight and The Needles, as walkers strode out along the steps of Friars Cliff beach.
People basked in the sunshine, which was surprisingly warm;
enough for the cafe tables on the promenade to be well patronised.
Smaller beings slalomed their way among feet and shadows.
Becky led Scooby down to look at the water, but his attention became diverted by an elegant, waving, tail.
Even when seated at the outside tables many people discarded their coats, like a couple of boys who hung theirs on their scooters, equally superfluous to requirements on the shingle.
The group in the background of the picture containing the mobile phone user was just one of many at the water’s edge.
This evening the four of us dined on Jackie’s luscious sausage casserole, mashed potato and swede; crunchy carrots and Brussels sprouts; followed by the most appetising pumpkin pie I have ever tasted. The Culinary Queen attributes the success to an extra egg, evaporated milk, nutmeg, and cinnamon. She and Becky finished the sauvignon blanc, Ian chose Peroni, and I drank El Pinsapo gran seleccion rioja, 2011.
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Early this morning, Matthew arrived with Poppy, who made beelines for the locations of the toys with which she had played on her last visit.
Becky and Ian joined us at lunchtime.
This afternoon Becky watched Hey Duggee with her niece, who went through a range of emotions and movements while watching her favourite TV programme. Initially eagerly awaiting the start, Poppy displayed concentration, delight, apprehension, and confusion, the latter especially when she picked up the controls and pressed a few buttons. She danced around and leaned forward, pointing to specific delights. Her rabbit also enjoyed the channel.
This evening, after Matthew and Poppy had returned home, the rest of us dined at Lal Quilla where we enjoyed a splendid meal with a warm welcome, excellent food and wonderful service. My main choice was king prawn Ceylon with special fried rice. We shared onion bahjis and a plain paratha. Becky drank rose wine and Jackie, Ian and I drank Kingfisher,
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Today, I scanned another batch of black and white negatives from 1985.
Here is a view of the garden of the gite,
where Jessica basked in the evening sun.
Here Matthew introduces Sam and Louisa to farmyard fowl,
soon attracting the usually inquisitive cattle.
Back home in London we paid one of our regular visits to Covent Garden, where Jessica, Sam, and Louisa enjoyed the Punch and Judy show. Sam entered gleefully into the spirit of the occasion, whereas Louisa found it all a little tiring.
On another occasion we walked around the corner from our Gracedale Road home for a blackberrying expedition on Tooting Bec Common. Sam, as evidenced by the purple smear across his cheeks, adhered to the normal custom of eating as much of the fruit as found its way into his container.
This evening we dined at Lymington’s Royal China, where we enjoyed our usual warm welcome and excellent meal. We both drank Tsingtao beer.
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I began the day by managing to load all the pictures missing from yesterday’s post.
Flushed with success on this morning bright and crisp enough to bring tinges of pink, like those still visible in the garden, I ventured outside with my camera.
Although the curtain of weeping birch leaves is preparing to shed its beads, and the hosts of honesty reveal its seeds,
we still have plenty of colourful blooms, such as these dahlias, Japanese anemones, and fuchsias;
while begonias, honeysuckle, nicotianas, and penstemons persist.
This afternoon we went on driveabout.
On the moors between Brockenhurst and Beaulieu, the lowering sun gilded the topmost bracken fronds.
As we approached Beaulieu, ponies and cattle shared the grazing.
The equines wandered along the road seeking traffic to disrupt;
further on, a trio was more interested in the fodder.
Hatchet Pond itself was still and reflective.
On our return we diverted to Milford on Sea to catch the sunset. Looking east towards the Isle of Wight the sky wore pastel pinks and indigo hues;
contrasting with the fiery flames lighting up the west. As the sun receded into the water its radial beams streamed upwards.
This evening we dined on cheese-centred haddock fish cakes, mashed potato and swede, crunchy cauliflower, carrots, and runner beans, with which we both drank Prestige & Cavet sauvignon blanc 2014.
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On quite a misty morning, we went out for a drive in such a direction as the spirit moved us.
We crossed the Lymington River and turned right along Undershore Road, giving us an atmospheric view of the level crossing we had just passed over.
Just to the left of my vantage point, a duck led her paddle of ducklings onto the water from the muddy bank.
Originally heading for Hatchet Pond we diverted to Tanners Lane, along which was walking a blonde woman with her equally slender and elegant saluki, who were soon to join us on the beach,
where Jackie found the skull of the spirit that had led us there,
and I photographed the sun, the sea, birds overhead, the shingle, the invisible Isle of Wight, a beached boat, and a ferry.
We travelled on in the vicinity of Sowley where the obligatory pony stood hopefully in the middle of the road
and pheasants sped across a field.
Snooks Lane near Portmore led us back to Lymington and home.
I have not dwelt on my daily continuing wrestling with uploading my pictures. Suffice it to say that James Peacock made another visit, bringing his own Apple laptop to try that. The problems were the same, leading us both to the conclusion that the problem lies in the BT internet connection. James is to investigate the possibility of getting this improved.
This is a well researched and beautifully produced A4 size laminated paperback. In tracing the antecedents of these young men who died in WW1, the conflict that was supposed to end all wars, we learn much about the early European settlement of New Zealand. It was only in 1840 that the first British immigrants came to join the Maoris who had come from Polynesia before the 14th. century.
It was only in 1909 that the New Zealand Army was formed, yet it sent more than its fair share to join the 1914-18 conflict, and to die in foreign fields, and in the New Zealand General Hospital No. 1 in Brockenhurst. Almost as many succumbed to illness as to wounds. A proportion of the men were Maoris.
Those of European origin mostly emanated from parts of the UK, notably Scotland. We learn their civilian occupations, and those of their antecedents. As one would expect there was a preponderance of farmers and craftsmen.
The agonies of the men and of their bereaved families are apparent in their factually related stories.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious liver casserole, served with saute potatoes on a bed of peppers, leaks, garlic, and mushrooms. Dessert was cherry crumble and custard. I drank Abbot Ale.
Having spent far too many hours attempting to load today’s photographs onto WordPress, and feeling like the spider of the legend of the Scots king Robert I, I am forced to leave gaps above, which I hope to fill in due course.
explains: “It is said that in the early days of Bruce’s reign he was defeated by the English and driven into exile. He was on the run – a hunted man. He sought refuge in a small dark cave and sat and watched a little spider trying to make a web.
Time and time again the spider would fall and then climb slowly back up to try again.
If at first you don’t succeed – try, try again.
Finally, as the Bruce looked on, the spider managed to stick a strand of silk to the cave wall and began to weave a web. Robert the Bruce was inspired by the spider and went on to defeat the English at the Battle of Bannockburn.
The legend as it is now told was first published by Sir Walter Scott in ‘Tales of a Grandfather’ in 1828, more than 500 years after the Battle of Bannockburn. It is thought that Scott may have adapted a story told about Sir James Douglas.
Caves across Scotland and Ireland are said to be legendary cave of Bruce and the spider: the King’s Cave at Drumadoon on Arran; King Robert the Bruce’s Cave in Kirkpatrick Fleming near Lockerbie; Bruce’s Cave – Uamh-an-Righ, Balquhidder Glen; Bruce’s Cave on Rathlin Island…”
Early the next morning I managed to load the rest of the pictures.
