February 2017 – Page 2 – derrickjknight

Forest Pursuits

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We spent the morning driving around the forest before lunching at Holmsley Old Station Tea Rooms.

The strong early morning sun forced its way through the rising mist, and eventually dominated the blue skies, warming

the landscape,

and eventually lighting the lichen-covered oaks,

some of which were reflected in the myriad of pools like these on the way to Burley.

Crossing the road I arrived at another small lake that turned out to be part of a golf course.

As I contemplated the green further up the hill, I imaged what it would be like to hit your ball into the water.

Preceded by their voices a group of golfers dragged their bags into view. I passed on my thoughts, and the gentleman facing me in the second picture, informed me, with a wry smile, that they didn’t need to imagine it.

There are many fords on the forest roads, with bridges for pedestrians wishing to cross swollen streams. This crossing near Burley was dry,

and clear water flowed fast beneath it.

On this fine spring Saturday there was much traffic on the road. This did not deter somnolent ponies who ignored cars slaloming around them and cyclists whizzing through the central gap.

A domestic horse tore nonchalantly at the beech hedge beside its wire fencing.

At Brockenhurst a working Telephone box was reflected in a seasonal pool.

The structure had clearly been left exposed to the elements without protective paint for a number of years. A pile of rubbish carpeted the floor, and it was necessary to negotiate a discarded poop scoop bag to reach the peeling door.

Perhaps it would have been an idea to offer the management to local residents as in the case of this one at Wootton. This is also reflected, but it would be more savoury to make one’s way through mud and pony droppings than the obstacle mentioned above.

There were many golfers playing on various courses on this beautiful morning.

Also engaged in forest pursuits were dog walkers like this couple drying their dog after a romp amongst the dewy bracken.

Cyclists abounded. Take note of the two heads ascending the hill behind those in the first picture.

Many horse riders were seen on the country roads and across the moors.

Joggers exercised alone,

or in couples. Do you recognise the two heads seen on the road to Burley? Here they are somewhat later.

For lunch at Holmsley Jackie chose her favourite macaroni cheese. My meal was an excellent fish pie served with carrots, peas, and greens.

This evening the Culinary Queen produced a thick mushroom and cheese omelette for our dinner.

Still Hanging Around

This post is the one I wrote but seem to have failed to send yesterday, 17th February 2017.

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Yesterday evening Jackie, Elizabeth and I visited Southampton City Art Gallery for a preview of:

Still Hanging Around: Paintings by Hilda Margery Clarke

17 February to 22 April 2017

An exhibition of paintings by Hilda Margery Clarke to celebrate her 90th year. She was born in Manchester and learnt to paint through the guidance of L. S. Lowry, with whom she remained life-long friends until his death in 1976. She moved to Southampton in 1954, and studied drawing under the excellent tuition of Peter Folkes at Southampton Art College. Since 1965, Clarke has exhibited locally and in London, and remained an important part of the city’s art scene. In 1984, she established “The First” Gallery in her Bitterne home, consolidating ten earlier annual mixed shows there, as a venue to support other serious artists, only latterly promoting her own work.

Her subject matter includes the world around us and beyond, glimpsed and imagined, interpreted with compassion and warm humour, evident in her interest in people. The exhibition will be accompanied by a small display of works from the collection by artists that have inspired Clarke, including L. S. Lowry, Richard Eurich and Eric Meadus.

Most of you will know by now that the artist is our dear friend Margery, some of whose work has already featured on this blog.

Although I haven’t really done full justice to the painter’s colours, I think readers will get the picture from this selection of prolific creativity spanning such a long, active, life. The exhibition was so well attended that it was not possible to photograph all the labels without intruding on visitors’ privacy. Unfortunately there was no catalogue, but Margery’s son Paul may have the time to offer supplementary detail. (Please see Paul’s invaluable series of comments below, for which I am most grateful)

Rachel Adams a photographer covering the event for the Southampton Echo, was kind enough to duplicate one of her poses of Margery and two friends with my camera.

Afterwards we dined at BrewHouse & Kitchen microbrewery and restaurant in Highfield, Southampton. This large establishment was very full. It was a good thing that Elizabeth had booked a table. Dutch, Belgian, and English beers were consumed by my sister, Jackie, and me respectively. My main meal was spicy cajun gumbo served with long grain rice and the addition of a few of the chips provided with the ladies’ special burgers. We all enjoyed magnificent sundaes which would ideally have taken a month in which to eat them.

We are quite optimistic that a large number of further buckets of water applied by Jackie this morning has finally cleared our unsavoury septic tank pipes.

This afternoon we took two large orange bags of rooted bamboo to the Efford Recycling Centre. Now we have no excuse for filling more green refuse, which we will first have to cut.

Our dinner this evening was enjoyed at Daniels Fish and chip restaurant in Highcliffe. We both chose cod and chips. Jackie supplemented hers with mushy peas and mozarella sticks; my addition was pickled onions.

Father And Son

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Today work began on our fireplace. First Baz and Owen inspected the prospective purchase at Gordleton Barn, pronounced it suitable, and set about making ready for it.

This is the doubtful D.I.Y. effort that started the day in our living room.

Barry and Owen Chislett-Bruce are New Forest Chimney Sweeping & Repairs. This father and son team are personable, thorough, efficient, and work quickly, cleanly, and tidily.

Here they are at work removing the orange shelf and the bodged tiling.

They were pleased not to have damaged any of the tiles, which Owen stacked up neatly.

They then carried out the task of clearing the raised rock-hard concrete from the open space,

hoovering as they went along.

Baz and Owen then collected the Victorian replacement from the barn, and contemplated it for a while.

This involved Baz sticking his head up the chimney.

There were several possible options for ensuring a tight fit, the preferred one being removing a row of the original hearth floor tiles, and removing more of the concrete. This required considerable effort.

The cast iron tiled fireplace was firmly fixed, ready for the next stage.

A final vacuuming was carried out,

and this is how they left us until further elements are obtained and fitted.

Observant readers will have noticed that the men, while working their socks off, do so in their socks. This, the groundsheets, the hoovering,

and bagging up the rubble as they go along, demonstrates their careful attention to the homes in which they work.

Whilst at the barn, I took a few more pictures of the interior.

It is now soon after 3.00 p.m. We will be driving over to Elizabeth’s for the three of us to attend Margery’s exhibition at Southampton Art Gallery, after which we will have a meal together. I will then have no time (or energy) to post this, so I will do so know and report the evening tomorrow.

From Dawn To Dusk

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The pale pastel pink and blue skies that Dawn ushered in this morning showed a certain amount of promise. But she was only kidding. Within half an hour or so, she slid a slate canopy over our heads, and steady rain set in.

We paid a visit to Gordleton Barn where we found a new idea for our fireplace. we will ask Baz to vet it tomorrow.

Obviously I made a few more photographs of the artefacts on display.

A tributary of the River Avon runs under Silver Street, the home of the barn.

On one side of the winding road lies Gordleton Mill, the race of which speedily rushed along.

On the other, a couple of woolly sheep snuffled among the sodden leaves.

By late afternoon, the canopy had, albeit temporarily, been retracted, enabling a fine sunset,

tingeing houses on the Isle of Wight, to put in an appearance over Milton on Sea.

A small group enjoyed the shoreline,

others preferred the clifftop.

It is not unusual for Jackie to spot a potential view and sit in the car willing me to turn and see it. This was the case with this boat on the horizon. She yelled at me from her Modus. Naturally, I grabbed the opportunity. Neither of us realised that the vessel was visible approaching the sunbeams in my earlier shots.

For our dinner this evening, Jackie supplemented a second sitting of yesterday’s Chinese takeaway with shredded duck, cucumber, spring onions, and pancakes, with which I drank more of the Chilean Shiraz first opened a couple of days ago.

“There’s Nothing They Haven’t Got”

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This morning, like the curate’s egg, was “good in parts”.

Bishop: “I’m afraid you’ve got a bad egg, Mr Jones”; Curate: “Oh, no, my Lord, I assure you that parts of it are excellent!” “True Humility” by George du Maurier, originally published in Punch, 9 November 1895. A “curate’s egg” describes something that is mostly or partly bad, but partly good. (From Wikipedia).

First, Baz (Barrie) and Owen, chimney sweeps came to discuss our plans for the fireplace and to offer suggestions. They will come again to start work in a couple of days. That was good.

Then we drove to New Milton for a visit to the bank. That was good.

The next trip was to Gordleton Barn to investigate fireplaces. There is only one day of the week that this architectural salvage outlet is closed. It is today, Tuesday. That was bad.

On we travelled to Streets Ironmongers in Brockenhurst to collect the house name commissioned on our last visit. That was good.

From the vast variety of superbly organised floor to ceiling stock, we also bought a shoe horn, an adhesive hook, and a couple of food covers. I will let the photographs speak for the contents. I could probably spend a fortnight here without repeating myself. On leaving the shop Jackie voiced the opinion that “There’s nothing they haven’t got”.

Since it is impossible to drive around The New Forest without coming across at least one Openreach van, it was hardly surprising to be following one waiting for the level crossing gates to open. That, for someone, was bad.

On our return we tackled the septic tank pipeline blockage once more. Determining to blast the manhole with water, we filled the relevant bath and as many cans and buckets of water as Jackie could lay her hands on.

Very soon after we unplugged the bath the hopper below overflowed, pouring its contents around the base of the house.

I then climbed our stepladder, expecting to find the container full of leaves. It was as clean as a whistle. Obviously the flow from the bath was too fast for it to cope with. When It had finally emptied we emptied most of the cans into the hole then went in for lunch. That was bad.

After lunch Jackie tipped out the last few buckets, replaced the manhole cover, and returned to the sitting room where we stopped thinking about it.

This evening we visited Mr Chan at Hordle Chinese Take Away for his usual excellent fare. I finished the Cabernet Sauvignon.

A Touch Of Sea Air

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On a bright and sunny morning Jackie drove us out to Flexford Bridge to survey the scene that had been waterlogged on our last visit.

These muddy-looking snowdrops had been struggling to keep their heads above water then.

Banks of others lined the verges of

Flexford Lane which offers another view of Sway Tower, otherwise known as Peterson’s Folly.

The numerous catkins no longer bore droplets of rain.

On that earlier day sheep had held the higher ground that led down to the Avon stream;

today they cropped the fields of Bridge Farm.

To reach the livestock I had walked up a pitted byway,

passing a number of derelict sheds,

holes in one of which neatly framed a group of distant trees.

This afternoon Jackie cut back the clematis Campaniflora in the front garden. Unfortunately this climbs on the arch alongside one of the three manhole covers laid along the pipeline to the septic tank that carries our effluent. She decided to check this one. it was full of thick shit and toilet paper soup. She tipped a couple of buckets down it, to no avail. I took over the task and had the bright idea of shovelling out the mess, putting it in a bucket, and emptying it into the last hole. It hasn’t helped, which means there is a blockage between the first two manholes. It seems that the problem stems from inadequate equipment in the guest bathroom above. I deferred the next stage to tomorrow. It always pays to think about a problem. And I was knackered.

Probably everyone knows that unpleasant aromas linger in the nostrils long after you’ve scrubbed up. Today was no exception. It seemed like a touch of sea air was needed to blast the pong away. We therefore drove out to Calshot

just before sunset,

where a sailboarder was wending his way back to his car.

Against the backdrop of Fawley Power Station, boats and buoys rested on the silt at low tide,

whilst geese honked overhead.

This evening we dined on belly of pork served with boiled potatoes, carrots and broccoli. Jackie drank Hoegaarden whilst I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon opened a couple of days ago.

A Far Cry From Fitzrovia

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This morning I scanned another dozen colour slides from the Streets of London series. These were produced in July 2004.

On this corner of Riding House Street W1 stands the landmark Arts & Crafts home of T.J. Boulting & Sons, manufacturers of heating equipment. Adopting the name in 2011, a contemporary art gallery, T.J. Boulting, was established in the building.

The address of the Crown & Sceptre pub, seen here in Foley Street W1, is actually 88 Great Titchfield Street. They currently advertise watching the Six Nations rugby with specially chosen beers. Like many of our historic public lavatories, the one outside the building has been chained shut.

Zoopla currently quotes the average price of a property in Mansfield Mews W1 as £1,703,118. Note the tall chimneys and television aerials reflected in the upper window. What a pity that a splendid stained glass window has made way for an extractor fan.

A similar value is place on properties in Molyneux Street W1.

I was only beginning my photography of public places at this time. I do wish I had had the confidence to ask this group alongside Ossington Buildings W1 what they were up to. But, I didn’t. Now I have learned that most people are only to willing to talk, and often to pose.

This church seen from Crawford Street W1, is St Mary’s Bryanston Square, an active element of the evangelical wing of the Church of England. Designed by Robert Smirke, it dates from 1824. A young lady on a bench made herself comfortable in the sunshine.

In Wyndham Place opposite, the Duke of Wellington, tankard in hand, possibly wondering how long he would be there, gazes from a side window of his eponymous pub. Built in 1812 in Crawford Street this establishment closed last year.

Warrington Gardens W9 is in Little Venice, close to Warwick Avenue tube station. Does the little girl here have a brother or sister in the buggy pushed by her mother, and does she have a doll in her own? I guess I’ll never know.

Wikipedia tells us that

‘St Augustine’s Church of England High School is a Voluntary Aided Church of England comprehensive school in the West London borough of Westminster, Kilburn. The school is also a Science College and has a sixth form. St Augustine of Canterbury is the patron saint of the school. It is located adjacent to its affiliated primary school and parish church St Augustine’s Church.’ It dates from 1870, when it was opened with 7 pupils.

Garfield the Movie was released in 2004. It is a spin-off from the famous cartoons featuring Garfield the cat created by America’s Jim Davis in 1978. This style of telephone box is a more recent version of the iconic red telephone boxes. I wonder if it is still in use, especially as I doubt that there is a single pupil without a mobile phone.

For many years I ran or walked from Little Venice to lunch with Norman at his home in Harlesden. Ridley Road NW10 was on one of my routes. This corner pillar had obvious got in the way of a stray vehicle. Or maybe the young lady gave it a passing kick.

Oldfield Road NW10 has brought us into graffiti land. A far cry from where we began in Fitzrovia. Norman lived in this road, which was around the corner from

Ashdon Road NW1, the walls of which also suffered desecration, and where robbers and Dumpers were also warned off.

This afternoon I watched a very keen Six Nations rugby contest between France and Scotland in Paris, screened by the BBC.

The evening we dined on second helpings of yesterday’s tasty casserole, with potatoes sauteed with garlic and herbs, and carrots vying with curly Kale for brightness of colour and flavour. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Cimarosa Limited Edition Shiraz 2014.

On The Beach (2)

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Darting pin points of fleeting snow given added impetus by biting winds crossing Christchurch Bay failed to deter family out to enjoy fun on the sand, despite this morning’s gloom necessitating the use of car headlights.

For the first time this year my fingers tingled painfully as I plied my camera while Jackie snuggled up in the car with her puzzle book. The precipitation did not settle.

Children brought their own transport into play, in the form of smart scooters

and a wobbly bicycle.

Judging by the gesticulation displayed in the twist of her free hand, one young woman was engaged in an animated mobile conversation.

A little girl put the sea wall to the use for which it was intended.

Dogs frolicked with or without their owners,

and made welcome new acquaintances.

A photographer operated on the roaring waves with the use of a tripod and an extension cable.

He wasn’t so concerned with the two ferry boats coming into harbour, bearing a few intrepid passengers.

A crow on the sand watched the incoming waves,

and a stranded cotton reel had once been bobbin’ on the tide.

On this second weekend of the Six Nations rugby tournament, I watched first ITV’s coverage of the game between Italy and Ireland in Rome, followed by Wales v. England on BBC in Cardiff. The first game was far too one-side to enthrall; the second one of the most thrilling I have ever seen.

Our dinner this evening (look away, Yvonne) consisted of Jackie’s hearty liver and bacon casserole, served with boiled potatoes, carrots, and curly kale. This was followed by Sicilian lemon tart and cream. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, my choice was Cimerosa Reserva Privada cabernet sauvignon 2015.

Memorable Fitzrovians

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Today I scanned another dozen colour slides from July 2004.

The first three are of Flo getting to grips with the swing suspended from a false acacia tree in the garden at Lindum House.

The others are the next nine in the Streets of London Series.

This wall in Judd Street WC1 is enlivened by a bright hanging basket.

Here is another view of the juxtaposition between The British Library and the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel, this time from Euston Road NW1. The photograph also shows the effect that a lane closure can have on London traffic.

Seven years ago two separate estate agents advertised this house in Flaxman Terrace WC1 at £2,375,000 and at £4,250,000.

Upper Woburn Place/Tavistock Square WC1 7.04 1

Upper Woburn Place/Tavistock Square WC1 7.04 2

The headquarters of the British Medical Association straddle Upper Woburn Place and Tavistock Square WC1. The third view is from the corner of Endsleigh Street, the End of which has been chopped off.

University College London occupies a number of buildings in and around Gordon Square WC1. I imagine the two young men in this picture are university students.

There are three streets named Charlotte Mews in London. It wouldn’t be amusing to find yourself in either the one in W10 or in W14 if you were aiming for this one. Note that if you were driving a vehicle needing more than 11′ headroom that wouldn’t be funny either.

This fascinating mural in Goodge Place W1 was painted by Brian Barnes in the year 2000. The following details are taken from The website of the London Mural Preservation Society:

“Residents and workers in the Fitzrovia area are very aware of the mural off Tottenham court road – some because they walk past it every day, others because they were around when it was created. However, are those same people aware of the small mural located on the side of the Fitzrovia Neighbour Centre on Goodge place?

This painting covers the lower part of the side of the building. It was painted in 2000 by Brian Barnes. In the mural are famous people or buildings in the area. The gentleman in the red coat is Olaudah_Equiano who lived in the area during the later years of his life. He was a prominent African involved with the British movement to abolish slavery. Behind Olaudah is an image of a ship. This scene is taken from the painting by J M W Turner called The Slave Ship.

Below Olaudah is Marie Stopes who was responsible for opening the first family planning clinic. This establishment set up it’s head quarters on Whitfield Street in Fitzrovia in 1925. To the right of Stopes is Simon Bolivar, a Venezuelan political leader who helped free Latin America from the Spanish. He was sent to London in 1810 to seek protection from the British Government. Whilst in London he met with Francisco de Miranda who is portrayed to the bottom right of Bolivar. He was also a Venezuelan revolutionary who had led a previous revolt in Latin America. De Miranda settled in Fitzrovia. Both men are remembered in the area; there is Bolivar Hall which is part of The Venezuelan Embassy and a statue of De Miranda on Fitzroy Square.

Above De Miranda and next to Bolivar is the writer George Bernard Shaw who had a home in Fitzroy Street. Moving to the top of the mural is an image of the Middlesex Hospital. The first hospital was built in the mid 17th century and functioned up until quite recently. The place was closed in 2005 and most of the buildings have been pulled down; the site is still waiting to be redeveloped.

To the left of the mural at the top is Totterhall Manor, an Elizabethan building whose land is now occupied by Fitzroy Square. Below the building ia a former resident of this place, the writer Virginia Woolf. Next to her is a stalwart for the Fitzrovia Play Association, Cynthia Williams, a local resident for more than 50 years who passed away during 2000 and was commemorated in the mural. Finally below her we have some Bengali dancers. The neighborhood centre does much work with local Bengali people. Next to this picture is an image of the BT tower,completed in 1962 and at one point the tallest building in London.

This mural offers an education about just a small number of the famous people associated with the area. Sadly it’s possible that the Fitzrovia Neighbour Centre will move out of the building after 36 years of service. It will be most likely that the mural will be destroyed after that so pop down and have a look at it before it goes.”

This evening we dined on Jackie’s newly created Post House pie. This was a layered savoury concoction. Minced beef was covered by onions, peppers, and leftover vegetables, Mashed potato topped by mature cheddar cheese came next. It was most moreish. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the rioja.

A Good Clean Up

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A couple of Christmases ago Becky gave me a little wallet of visiting cards for this blog. She knew I have a penchant for talking to people on my wanderings, and that, particularly if I had photographed them, they sometimes asked for the WordPress details. On these occasions I would fish around in my pockets, find, like David Jason’s Jack Frost, an old receipt or shopping list, write the details on the back, and hand it over. Becky gave me a more professional air. A few days ago, I handed my last card to Peter, who had stopped to ask directions which Jackie provided with the aid of an Ordnance Survey map.

Our daughter has sent me a pdf by e-mail, providing a sheet of ten cards. All that was required of me was to print the image and guillotine the cards. Becky made her selection from pictures on a variety of posts. Unbeknown to me, she has been noting prospective new ones for a further set when she gets a round tuit.

Among the debris on my desk was a little envelope containing two stray colour slides believed to have been lost until I found them a while ago. Today I decided to identify and scan them.

The first one was easy. It was Sam and me in May 1981 on a visit to The Owl House garden. I haven’t been able to establish its location, but my recollection is somewhere near Tunbridge Wells. Perhaps my memory is playing tricks. (Overnight, I remembered. The garden is at Lamberhurst in Kent. It was there that I took the photograph I adapted for the drawing for the cover of the Family Service Unit annual report for 1980/1981)

The ribbon in her hair identifies the baby in Jackie’s mother’s tender arms as Becky, sometime in August 1970, when she was about a week old. Mum Rivett was standing at the bottom of her garden of Westbrook, Shrewsbury Road, Beckenham. This is just half the image that required considerable retouching because the muck all over it meant a good clean up was in order. I have made our daughter a print.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s piquant cauliflower cheese; tangy smoked haddock; creamy mashed potato, carrots and swede; and crisp broccoli. I drank Cepa Lebrel reserva rioja 2012.