March 2017 – Page 2 – derrickjknight

A Windy Day

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This morning I sat in the dentist’s waiting room whilst Jackie kept an appointment.

During this time I finished reading Bruce Goodman’s ‘Bits of a Boy’. Given the amazing number of spurious dental appointments young Bruce wangled, this was probably quite appropriate. This autobiographical work must have been hidden away for at least half a century. No-one could possibly take us right into the mind of a boy at various stages of life unless he was that boy – then. Read it. On line. Or downloaded. It is a must for entertainment, for history, and for atmosphere. Oh, the memories it stirred in me.

After lunch Jackie drove us to Lepe and back.

Attracted by a group of tiny ponies we stopped at Norley Wood where Jackie waited in the car for me to photograph the creatures.

Other cameras and mobile phones came into play. One woman took her photos through an open car window;

another group walked up to, and petted the animals.

They fully understood why I named this windswept pony Donald.

I have mentioned before that gorse in the forest is regularly thinned out by controlled burning. For this reason an unusually great number of larger ponies grazed on the left hand side of the road outside Beaulieu.

A few, more reluctant, after the land had cooled, to leave their familiar territory had returned to the other side, sometimes, ghostlike, reaching up into the remaining charred bushes, sometimes foraging on the grass.

There are still a large number of waterlogged trees in pools around the forest, offering, like these near Exbury, many arboreal reflections.

How did these tyres come to be in the water?

As usual, mallards, had occupied another recent pool.

So windy was it at Lepe that the waves were extremely choppy.

One yacht made its way without sail;

others, against the backdrop of the Isle of Wight, leaned at an impressive angle;

and a sailboarder skimmed across from the island and back in the blink of an eye.

Gorse bushes and rugged trees on the clifftop bent with the wind;

and daffodils lit the bank above the Watch House.

This evening we dined at Daniel’s Fish and Chips restaurant in Highcliffe. Jackie added onion rings to her cod and chips. My supplements were mushy peas and a roll and butter. I drank tea, and Jackie didn’t.

A Little Bit O’ Bloomin’ Luck

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Today began dark, wet, and windy. Thinking we would be unable to do much more in the garden we transported the results of yesterday’s crab apple pruning to Efford Recycling Centre.

As is the Head Gardener’s wont, she bought two more fibreglass faux terra cotta plant pots from the sales area.

The sun did put in brief appearance this afternoon, so I was able to present a snapshot of the first official day of Spring.

Jackie has also started buying plants, like these violas,

and these snake’s head fritillaries just plonked in an urn for the moment.

Both are visible in this shot of the kitchen bed.

These camellias shed their confetti-like petals on the Dead End Path.

Others are visible on either side of the decking in this view beyond Margery’s Bed;

A.P. Maintenance

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In the garden this morning, envious of the attention given to the daffodils yesterday, many other plants clamoured to be photographed.

Readers may have noticed a hyacinth lurking among the daffodils. Here are a couple more, one seeking camouflage from the as yet uncleared autumn leaves.

Cowslips soar from the soil at the bottom of the back drive.

Along the beds there we have perennial wallflowers and primroses. That lady’s bedstraw will have to come out.

Alliums are beginning to proliferate,

and grape hyacinths are popping up.

Some bulbs, like these forcing their way through geraniums

or these from between patio stones, we cannot identify. The second, thanks to Rusty duck’s comment below, I can now say is Ipheion uniflorum. Geoff, thebikinggardener.com has added this information: ‘The first one – the pinkish one, is Chionodoxa ‘Pink Giant’ and the next one is Ipheion uniflorum as you say – although it has just had its name changed to Tristagma. (not just a minute ago)’

Some aubretia seem almost fluorescent.

The tiny clematis Cirrhosa now festoons the gazebo.

Jackie spent the morning clearing the garden beds, while I transferred the residue to the compost heaps.

Anyone who has followed this blog for the last two and a half years will know how invaluable Aaron, of A.P. Maintenance has been. He gets through a phenomenal amount of work on his regular Sunday morning visits. Today, for example, not only did he finish weeding the back drive, but he also

fixed the House sign into position at the front of the house

and pruned the crab apple trees in order to promote fruit for next winter’s blackbirds.

Jackie’s sign has now been switched to the other side of the entrance.

Ponies in the New Forest are normally to be seen fending for themselves. They are naked but for their own hair which generally lengthens during the winter; and they have to find their own food. Late in the afternoon, we drove out into the forest where, close to Linford, I spotted an equine group who appeared to be enjoying hotel facilities. They were all chomping away at a large hay bin, and one wore a rug. Like young children at the trough, more of the fodder landed on the floor than reached their stomachs.

The five-barred gate on which I leant to photograph the diners bore the sign for Newlands Farm. On our return home I Googled the farm. It was indeed a horse hotel of sorts. This is what their website has to say:

“Newlands offers you over 75 acres of well-managed grassland. We offer two types of grass livery care packages,with amazing riding from the farm gate directly onto the open New Forest , with no roadwork at all.

The farm is superbly located being less than 3 minutes from the market town of Ringwood yet set right within the New Forest National Park. The farm is run and situated alongside New Forest Livery and Training. Newlands is a professionally-managed farm providing superb grazing and care packages for your horse combined with access to superb outriding.

Grass Livery – Horses at grass are either :

– Visited regularly by their owners, or

– Retired/resting, ‘Owner-Away Option’, where owners visit less often, so we maintain the care.”

This evening we dined on Mr Chatty Man Chan’s Hordle Chinese Take Away’s delicious fare. I finished the Fleurie while Jackie drank sparkling water.

A Bunch Of Daffs

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Before settling down to an afternoon of vicarious rugby on the television, I wandered round the garden and picked a virtual bunch of varieties of daffodil.

Here it is.

The Six Nations rugby matches were Scotland v. Italy at Murrayfield; France v. Wales in Paris televised by BBC; and finally Ireland v. England in Dublin on ITV.

As is my normal practice, I won’t reveal the results of these games, but I cannot remain totally silent about the second match, certainly the longest and most bizarre I have ever seen. A rugby match lasts 80 minutes. In certain situations it may continue until a natural stoppage after full time. This would normally be no more than 2 or 3 minutes. The first 79 minutes of this contest were most unmemorable. There then followed 21 further minutes, including struggles a few metres from one try line, a certain number of offences, a sending off, some replacements, and perhaps a cheeky bit of cheating involving a team doctor. That will probably never be forgotten.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabiata with mange toutes and rocket salad, followed by tiramisu. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I abstained because I had drunk a bottle of Doom Bar whilst watching the rugby.

Giving It Some Welly

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This morning’s dawn promised a better day than forecast.

And so it proved, at least for the first hour or so. I took an early ramble round the garden on which more light was cast than yesterday. This brought forth an open-mouthed gape from a bespectacled gentleman atop the skeletal honesty in the Weeping Birch Bed.

Camellias and hellebores were nicely backlit in some areas.

Here is the view from Fiveways;

Daffodils, hellebores, allium, and bergenia

bergenia, daffodils, and hellebores in a corner of the Dead End Path;

and more hellebores, alliums, and vincas.

Jackie is particularly delighted with the daphne odora Aureomarginata that she put in last year. It is apparently quite a fussy plant.

When shopping at Lidl this morning, Jackie had spotted that the supermarket was selling very reasonably priced wheelbarrows. She drove me back there to buy one. After this we travelled on to Friars Cliff for me to post, into one of the beach huts, the prints I had made of photographs taken of two little girls on the beach on 24th February.

On one side of Christchurch Road stretches a number of extensive fields which, at this time of the year are occupied by hundreds of ewes and lambs. On the other, in front of a farmhouse, is a much smaller rectangular enclosure, not much more than a fold, really. We have always thought of that as the nursery for very newborn lambs before their decanting across the road. Today we saw confirmation of this.

The most recent arrivals and their mothers could be seen through the fencing bars. The rolled folds in the babies’ skin demonstrated their newness. Already, just like the grown sheep, they were stamped with identification numbers.

Even so young, some of the lambs were as inquisitive as the ewes,

whereas others and their mothers were not quite so sure.

As we arrived, a farmer drove a large tractor and long trailer from the farmyard, around a bend in the road, and through an open gate into the field opposite. He proceeded to unload his cargo of ewes and their lambs,

which were very soon suckling fit to fill out those rolls of skin.

The farmer was very gentle with his charges, even when offering a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘giving it some welly’, as he encouraged a reluctant little one to join its patiently waiting mother.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s pasta arrabbiata, sugar snap peas, and rocket salad, followed by tiramisu. I drank more of the Fleurie and the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden.

Current State Of Play

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It is perhaps no bad thing that the sun went AWOL today. This is because we spent the morning on spring clearance, and in the afternoon there wasn’t much light shone on what still needs to be done. Nevertheless I wandered around to capture images of the current state of play.

Here we have the result of Aaron’s work on the back drive. In the second picture daffodils and vincas are thriving.

Daffodils and camellias appear in most of the views, like this one that sculptured Florence looks upon,

and these from different sides of the Palm Bed.

Hellebores, such as these in the Kitchen Bed are also ubiquitous.

The Head Gardener’s Walk adds cyclamens to the mix.

We’ll get around to the Cryptomeria

and Weeping Birch Beds soon.

Jackie has spent some time clearing out the hanging baskets and pots

and tidying the patio.

The previously scarcely-existent front garden has bedded in well, euphorbias standing sentinel,

and daffodils, primulas, and hellebores adding colour.

The Monday Pie of our childhoods followed the Sunday roast meal. This was the left-over beef or lamb minced up in a Spong and turned into cottage or shepherd’s pie. Jackie has her own version. I know it isn’t Monday, but then her roast dinners are not confined to Sundays, and we enjoyed roast lamb yesterday. Her pie, on which we dined this evening, consists of the meat coated in gravy, wrapped in tin foil, and heated through very slowly in the oven. This renders it superbly succulent. The dish is topped with roast potatoes and mushrooms. Today it was served with sage and onion stuffing, carrots, cabbage, and green beans. With this, Jackie drank Hoegaarden. My choice was Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2014.

Heroes From Across The Pond

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This morning we carried bags of rubble from the fireplace work, neatly stacked by Barry and Owen, to the Efford Recycling Centre. In the car, of course. It is a sign of the times that what we could previously have placed in the dump’s large skip free of charge today cost us £12.50. One more public service commercialised by outsourcing to a private company. It seems that less and less is covered by our Council tax rates.

Afterwards we headed into the forest and investigated Horseshoe Bottom. This idyllic bowl is frequented by dog walkers and basking ponies.

As we prepared to leave the car, a large black dog, complete with owner, bounded up the ridge surrounding the vehicles. As soon as it reached the grass, the animal crouched for a crap. The owner, hands firmly in his jacket pockets, turned his back and set off across the lovely terrain. The dog, now relieved, joined him. It was only as I stepped over the ridge that I realised that there was a row of similar turds requiring negotiation. Clearly numerous eager hounds had sought similar immediate convenience.

Landscape with ponies, discarded bag and dog shit

In order to spare my readers’ sensitivities, I have not photographed the fresher excreta, but this shot shows a sun bleached deposit and a discarded snack packet.

One particular pair of ponies stayed together, moving to a safe distance at the sight of my camera lens.

A grey,

and a representative of a miniature breed kept their own individual company.

I was some distance from the first couple when they lurched awkwardly to the ground to lie in the sun and scratch their backs.

It was then that I noticed Jackie had left the car and was setting off gingerly down the slope.

She kept her eyes on the crows,

but steadfastly ignored a pony’s request to have its tummy tickled.

I wondered where she was off to.

She had decided to investigate what she thought was a stream at the bottom of the slope. It turned out contain fresh grass and a small pool. She thought the must be a winterbourne, which only fills after wet weather. Some areas are drying out now.

Bright sunshine set the gorse a-glowing.

Towards midday a number of ponies sat down and dozed.

On the outskirts of Burley, a pair of chestnuts bringing up the tail, a string of others queued patiently outside a house from which, they no doubt knew, a householder would soon emerge with lunch.

At Holmsley we diverted to:

An engraved map shows the location of the commemorated institutions.

The sensitively designed memorial contains a number of dedicated benches where visitors can reflect in peace,

and affixed to the railings are individual and group plaques of remembrance. That of Captain Darrell R. Lindsey stands alongside one for other members of the USAAF.

For anyone who does not quite understand today’s title, ‘the pond’ is an affectionate name for the Atlantic Ocean which lies between USA and UK.

It was perhaps appropriate that Jackie noticed a bird of prey circling overhead.

The gorse pictured above is one reminder that Susan Hill’s “yellow season” has arrived. Daffodils decorating the verges such as those along Beckley Common Road is another.

This evening we dined on roast lamb, Yorkshire pudding, tasty gravy, new potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and green beans, followed by apricot lattice flan. I finished the shiraz while Jackie drank sparkling water. Milford on sea still has a greengrocers. The quality of today’s vegetables shows the freshness of the shop’s produce.

Mains Gas

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Last night I finished reading ‘Can You Forgive Her?’ by Anthony Trollope. Originally published in serial form, like other Victorian novels, this saga of family and politics was the forerunner of today’s television series. The book was the first of the Palliser sequence. It is longer than most readers would like in the modern world, but it repaid the time investment. I won’t give away any details, but can say that the author writes fluently and keeps us interested in the interrelated lives of his protagonists.

David Skilton’s introduction to my Folio Society edition is helpful and informative.

Can you Forgive her? Book illustration 001 2

Can you Forgive her? Book illustration 002 2

I have to say, however, that the illustrations by Llewellyn Thomas were most disappointing. The drawings are heavy, wooden, and badly sketched. I attach two examples to make my point. In the first, we are to believe that the gentleman descending from the carriage is pointing at the other man, at whom he is not even looking. In the other, is it really credible that any of the limbs really belong to any of they figures from which they awkwardly dangle?

This afternoon we attended Birchfield Dental Practice in New Milton where we underwent new patients’ assessments by Matthew Hefferan. More of what is required anon.

After this we drove to Lymington where I wandered along a section of the harbour opposite the lifeboat station.

Its shop is seen on the right. Not visible in that shot are the jackets hanging in the window the left.

At the bottom of the slipway pontoon

stands a row of waste bins that were reflected in the still water on the other side.

I had to admire the skill required to pack in the rows and rows of moored boats.

The juxtaposition of two signs, not too far apart, rather intrigued me,

so I had to Google:

“The kill cord, or ‘engine safety cut-out switch’ to give it its proper name, is a device used to stop the engine in the event of the helmsperson being thrown out of their seat. It consists of a length of cord or plastic wire connected to a kill switch on the engine or dashboard of the boat.19 Nov 2014

Kill cords: Everything boatowners need to know – Motor Boat & Yachting

www.mby.com/gear/kill-cords-43376″

A few black headed gulls paddling around the silt were the only visible sign of life in and around the harbour.

The Wight Link ferry made its way out towards the Solent.

Mains gas has not yet come to us in Downton. It was, however brought to the town of Lymington in 1832. This monument celebrates the event and expresses

the gratitude of the people to its benefactor.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s Post House Pie, with Yorkshire pudding, crisp carrots, green beans, and broccoli. I drank Lion’s Lair shiraz 2013.

Food And Drink In The Same Location

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It really felt like a spring day as we drove out to the forest this morning.

Cyclists on Rhinefield Ornamental Drive 1

Cyclists on Rhinefield Ornamental Drive 2

A pair of cyclists led us along the Rhinefield Ornamental Drive.

At intervals I left the car and photographed the forest scenes.

The usual amount of fallen trees festooned the floor. I have mentioned before, that, apart from some which is sold to be fashioned into something artistic or useful, the timber is left to rot where it falls, as an aid to ecology.

Some of the stumps in particular have disintegrated before our eyes during the few years we have lived here.

Even close to midday, the sun is still low enough in the sky to cast long shadows across the carpet of dry autumn leaves.

Last year’s bracken has not yet shrunk in the presence of Spring’s burgeoning coils.

Beyond Boldre an arrogant cock pheasant strutted erect through the heather.

Further on, a group of ponies were celebrating the fact that, courtesy of the recent rain their food and drink were both available at the same location.

An apparently dead tree would seem to have fallen into the water. Actually the water had fallen around the tree, beyond which the white pony guzzled the gorse.

On our return home we took our main meal of the day at Holmsley Old Station Tea Rooms. I chose steak and ale pie with short crust pastry, carrots, peas, and chips. Jackie’s pick was Stationmaster’s Rarebit. She drank cappuccino. I drank sparkling water.

I Felt More Than Somewhat Queasy

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Today I continued the scanning of colour negatives made in Cumbria on 18th August 1992, and last mentioned in ‘Welcome To The World’.

We visited a popular boating lake,

on which Jessica rowed our friend Alison Barran.

I have occasionally mentioned my fear of heights. This is described in particular in ‘Vertigo’.

Jessica never gave up trying to get me up mountains. Place Fell, which we scaled on the day in question was a case in point.

A sparkling waterfall fairly near the bottom was not too scary. I could have settled for that.

The cleft in this granite boulder was an example of the rugged nature of the terrain.

Others littered the sloping hillsides on which hikers had trodden a clear path along which Jessica fearlessly strode,

eventually reaching the summit. In order to avoid any misunderstanding I am honour bound to state that

I may just about have managed to stand at a high point to depict her gazing across the lumpy terrain,

but there was no way it would have been perched alongside this marker cairn.

Indeed I felt more than somewhat queasy enough when taking some of these shots on the way up. Note the sheep in the second picture.

Unfortunately most of the compositions did not lend themselves to cropping out the unsightly date stamp.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s Post House Pie served with carrots, green beans, and cauliflower. Dessert was lemon Swiss roll and vanilla ice cream. I finished the Bordeaux.