September 2017 – derrickjknight

Defying Gravity

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

Our final resting places are often a matter of circumstance, history, and almost arbitrary geography. So it was for my father, whose grave we visited yesterday, featuring it on my post. Having, apart from his war years in France, spent the majority of his life in and around Wimbledon where he was born, Dad retired to the village of Horndean in East Hampshire, expecting to spend his retirement there. It was not to be long before his death, leaving my mother to spend the next thirty years alone. She will be 95 in two days time.

Although she now lives in West End near my sister, Elizabeth, Mum has booked her place to join him when the time comes, as she first did in the early 1940s.

A short distance from my parents’ then home lies Catherington Cemetery which opened in 1966, in time to receive my father’s body 21 years later. It is managed by East Hampshire Council.

Tim Lambert, in http://www.localhistories.org/catherington.html gives us the following information: ‘During the Middle Ages Catherington was a small and isolated village. It stood in the Forest of Bere. That was a great forest that stretched from the border of Hampshire to Winchester. At that time Waterlooville and Cowplain did not exist. Catherington must have been a very quiet and secluded place [which developed slowly until] in 1901 its population was only a little over 1,300. Meanwhile Catherington Church of All Saints was rebuilt in 1883 by the architect Edmund Ferrey (1845-1900).’ Villagers now number around 4,000.

As I wrote yesterday this public cemetery stands next to that of All Saints Parish Church, which has its origins in Saxon and Norman times. Currently the church is undergoing repairs to the drains and the roof. The tombs of Admirals Sir Charles Napier and Sir Christopher Cradock in company with that of the actor Edmund Kean are among the residents of this plot.

Whereas the graves of those in the modern cemetery are laid out in straight, upright, rows, those in the churchyard are the more familiar lurching, lichen covered relics giving rise to the unfortunate description

tombstone teeth.

I do not wish to be disrespectful. These stones may well continue to defy gravity for many years to come.

We explored the inside of the rather splendid little building, the Norman nave of which has been encased by Ferrey’s additions;

but, apart from the extensive list of incumbents, have been unable to trace historical documentation supporting the claim that the original church dates from the twelfth century. Wooden information boards at the back of the church state that the wooden Saxon building was replaced in the 1180s.

Hordle Chinese Take Away provided our dinner this evening.

Flower Arranging

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

Today is the hundredth anniversary of my father’s birth. Born on Michaelmas Day 1917 he died on Christmas Day 1987, so did not live to see this one.

This afternoon Jackie drove herself and me to Elizabeth’s where we decanted into my sister’s car and she drove us to Catherington Cemetery where our father is buried.

The resting place is on high ground and surrounded by fields over which gulls flew

and in which horses grazed on this day.

We gathered at Dad’s grave and paid our respects.

Elizabeth fetched a watering can

from which she filled the vase.

With Jackie’s assistance she then arranged the flowers she had brought with her,

finally photographing the result,

which lies in the bottom right of this picture.

Behind the hedge beyond the upper level of this modern graveyard stands the Church of All Saints with the much older stones of this parish dating from the twelfth century. We did visit the church and its surroundings, but, because of the lateness of the hour, I must leave reporting on that until tomorrow.

We took a leisurely drive back to Wickham where we dined at the excellent Indian restaurant, the Veranda. My choice of meal was tender and spicy Lamb Lal Maas, with my share of special fried rice, plain paratha and a vegetable dish containing cashew nuts, the name of which I cannot remember. Elizabeth and I drank Kingfisher while Jackie drank Diet Coke.

Elizabeth then drove us back to her home whence Jackie drove us home in her Modus. As we travelled over the moors from Beaulieu we experienced the benefits of a reflective collar around the neck of a dusky pony crossing in front of us. It is good to see that some of them retain their luminosity.

A Rescue Operation

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT AS REQUIRED

This morning turned out to be rather longer than planned and required a little more energy than anticipated to be expended. We began with a trip to New Milton for shopping, including a new watch strap for me. We then returned home to collect two large bags of garden refuse for the dump.

It was to be quite fortuitous that we had the bags on board when we set off into the forest from the Efford Recycling Centre.

Egrets were fishing on Lymington River,

where the usual boats were moored.

A long hoarding has been in situ around Threeways in Pilley for quite a number of years has at some time served as an art gallery. Paintings by a variety of artists remain in situ.

Ponies, in return for the freedom of the village, keep the grass in front of the houses cropped short.

There were many ponies in evidence at the road junction at St Leonard’s Road, East End. We weren’t going to get past them, so just watched this grey

leave its post on the centre line, turn,

and, passing a companion at the swampy corner, cross

the road towards East Boldre, leaving another chestnut to take over traffic control duties.

The pony standing in the pool

liked a drink with its grass, which took its mind of the fly on its nose.

Another grey advanced on me, no doubt seeking goodies, in which it was to be disappointed.

Travelling on, we hadn’t covered many metres of St Leonard’s Road before our road was blocked again.

Pheasants, both male

and female, skittered backwards and forwards into the hedgerows,

except on Tanner’s Lane, where they gathered in a bouquet.

Sunlight sparkled on the water between the mainland and

the Isle of Wight.

Hello. What was this on the shingle beach?

It was Emma’s car, a Twingo.

Watched by her mother, Paula, and two other young ladies attempting to offer advice, guidance, and assistance, the driver had, with her mother and dog, set out for a walk which had to be abandoned. It became immediately necessary to free the vehicle. But how?

The car’s wheels just span on the loose pebbles as Emma vainly tried to climb over them. I helped guide her onto a firmer section, but this involved first having to reverse further down towards the waterline, turning, driving at an angle to the foreground of this picture, then reversing as close to the corner post as possible. Despite her fears, the young lady kept her cool, and almost made it. Several times.

It was then that I remembered the orange bags. By this time Jackie had joined us, so she fetched them. We placed them on gravel behind the wheels. It was still difficult. We then roped Jackie’s hessian supermarket bags into service so we had all four wheels covered.

Still no joy, until we were joined by another gentleman with rather more knowledge, especially about being very very gentle on the accelerator. Emma turned left at the point in the picture above, and reversed slowly towards the corner. With all hands on the bonnet; backs, thighs and knees straining, we tried again. We had lift off. Emma just avoided reversing into a hedge. We all gave each other hearty hugs, and Jackie and I drove home for a late lunch.

This evening we dined on Hordle Chinese Take Away fare. And very good it was too. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the malbec.

The Best Part Of The Day

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

Friends Rob and Helen visited for lunch today. They arrived late in the morning and remained until early evening. We spent a very enjoyable afternoon catching up with each other.

For lunch Jackie had made a superb leek and potato soup followed by plentiful cold meats and salads. Rob and I shared a bottle of Languedoc red wine of 2016 vintage.

Helen and I began early on a photographic tour of the garden.

She used a very impressive Fuji bridge camera,

and actually focussed on some of my own favourite subjects, such as begonias

and the rose For Your Eyes Only.

Alongside the latter, Lady Emma Hamilton is rejuvenated,

continuing to bloom in The Rose Garden where red antirrhinums still thrive.

Autumn leaves are beginning to fall. Some, suspended in spiders’ webs, wait to reach this glass table on the decking.

Among the clematises enjoying another flowering are these in the Back Drive Barrier boxes, leading the eye from the purple petunias to the now reddening leaves of Virginia creeper on the back fence;

and this one sharing Margery’s Bed with Japanese anemones.

Petunias continue to cascade from the iron urn,

and from the hanging basket over the Shady Path. Begonias are planted in the bed below and New Guinea impatiens shares the basket.

Here is today’s example of a fuchsia. Helen created many good images of these and others.

We walked up and down paths like the one termed Gazebo

sharing the corner of Margery’s Bed with the Phantom Path.

Just before lunch Jackie and Rob joined us.

Rob was intrigued by the regeneration of the apparently dead yellow leaved tree that has live stems on either side of the wasted trunk.

Given that rain set in early this afternoon, we had chosen the best part of the day to concentrate on the garden.

Jackie and I just grazed on small plates of salad this evening.

My New Haircut

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

Today the temperature was unseasonably warm, and the skies overcast. Although we have a great number of flowers still blooming beyond their normal time, I chose this morning figuratively to pick

a bunch of dahlias from the garden.

On my way round my attention was drawn to a fallen leaf, twisting frantically in an attempt to free itself from the spider’s web from which it was suspended. This brought the arachnid scampering down its central line, only to be disappointed in what it had trapped.

I have recently featured developments in the West Bed, cleared of shrubs and an old rose by Aaron, and having two new roses set to climb the arch by Jackie. There is now a new bench ready for positioning on reconstituted stone paving.

Elizabeth came for lunch and dinner. This afternoon we all travelled to Friar’s Cliff Beach and visited the Beach Hut Café for refreshments.

A heavy haze restricted rendered the Isle of Wight invisible beyond a passing yacht.

From Steamer Point nature reserve I watched the couple seen in the above picture continuing along the beach in the direction of Mudeford.

Other dogs were frolicking on the beach;

one retriever in particular swimming like a seal,

its antics being filmed from the breakwater.

Even as far away as the clifftop car park we could smell the red seaweed that coated the sand

where a solitary gull wandered.

This bird was joined by another and quickly took off,

flying out to sea,

leaving the visitor all forlorn.

Bubbling eddies swirled around

the rocks swathed in green and red weed.

As the waves rolled in they were tinged with red.

The gull bobbing on the wave above leapt to avoid the next one,

and a wader flew off as I approached in an attempt to identify it.

I photographed my sister focussing on the water,

and she got her own back.

This served a dual purpose in that we could satisfy the request of LordBeariofBow to feature my new haircut so that he could pass judgement on it.

This evening’s dinner consisted of Jackie’s superb sausages in red wine, creamy mashed potatoes, and crunchy carrots and cabbage. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and Elizabeth and I drank Parra Alta malbec 2016.

Ten Minutes

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

Today’s weather was almost all wet, warm, and overcast. Our afternoon began with a trip to Milford on Sea where the excellent Peter at Sears Barbers cut my hair. We then went on a garden centre crawl seeking some boundary stones to hold back the soil around the greenhouse. Eventually we wound up at B & Q in Christchurch where we found, and bought, what we wanted.

Having passed this rather attractive new housing development for retirees on the corner of Bridge Street, we noticed that the sky was lightening over Mudeford.

Consequently we diverted to the harbour where gulls squabbled over a chimney top perch,

and screamed around the boats moored on images of the skies

against a backdrop of dark indigo and pale ochre clouds pierced by rays of a weak sun leaving light blue rents in the cloth.

The boats themselves reflected on their surroundings.

I was not the only photographer grabbing the ten minutes that was all we enjoyed before the light dimmed once more. This gentleman, when I showed him these two pictures, was delighted that I had “got the person in”.

This evening for our dinner Jackie produced meaty cottage pie; colourful carrots, broccoli and green beans; and small new potatoes sautéed with onions, leaks, and red peppers. She drank Hoegaarden, and I drank more of the cabernet sauvignon.

Lacking A Certain Ambience

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

Aaron needed a few more boards for the front of his compost bins. I therefore accompanied him this morning to Mole Country Stores (known as Scats because that is what they used to be) to buy them. These make removable slats for ease of accessing the mature soil. As is customary, our friend, of AP Maintenance, also built the fence against which they stand. I made prints of these images for the portfolio he is building up.

Although the day started with fine weather, the afternoon grew more and more overcast.

As we drove through East End we discovered that the house in Rowes Lane with the most unappetising name, that has been up for sale for a while, seems to have found a courageous buyer. Either that, or the vendor has given up.

As we approached The Drift Inn in ‘the heart of the forest’ the sun made sporadic appearances.

Moorland stretched into the distance on the opposite side of Beaulieu Road.

This establishment describes itself as being a family and dog friendly traditional pub.

Family and dog friendly it is.

The rest is open to interpretation. Real log fires are described on the website. Real logs were piled up behind a net

beside the fireplace

which bore this notice.

The proprietors had perhaps striven for a certain ambience that was rather lacking.

The beer was OK.

After filling up with petrol at New Milton’s Tesco’s we continued in search of a sunset at Barton on Sea. A little early for that,

we found one over Roger Cobb’s farm in Downton Lane.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s chicken breasts wrapped in bacon on a bed of sautéed mushrooms, peppers, and onions, served with her savoury vegetable rice. I drank Casillero del Diablo cabernet sauvignon 2016.

“So Much Colour”

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

This morning Jackie continued her autumn clearing and planting in the garden. This afternoon I tidied up a bit then wandered around with my camera.

Petunias and geraniums continue to glow, with bright little erigerons still standing proud;

and diascias and begonias adding to the music.

The lead hat on the patio wall would grace an Ascot attender,

although she might not be happy about the resident bee.

Other insects enjoying the warm weather include this fly on a New Guinea impatiens.

Fuchsias are among the delights of the Dragon Bed,

of the Kitchen Bed,

and of Elizabeth’s Bed.

That second example, via dahlia Coup de Soleil, continues the chrysanthemums’ colour in the top left hand corner of this Oval Bed view. The yellow nasturtium peeping into the bottom right hand corner is just one of

many rambling around the garden.

Rhododendron leaves in the Palm Bed form a sinuous shape with the rudbeckias,

seen in the same bed dancing with Japanese anemones;

or taking the eye through the regenerating eucalyptus to the yellowing leaves of the weeping birch.

A similar yellow palette is taken up through the Kitchen Bed by way of the eucomises, the potted ginkgo, and the bronze fennel;

whereas the pale pink diascias in the iron urn lead us to the hot geraniums and dahlias beyond.

A dragon stands proud, protecting plants in its eponymous bed.

Still the Chilean tree produces lanterns,

while gentler hued colchicums sprawl across the soil opposite.

Begonias still glow in their hanging basket alongside the Heligan Path over the Cryptomeria Bed,

and sunlight has a similar effect on this penstemon.

An array of supporting plants accompany the roses in their Garden,

where such as Festive Jewel display several generations at once.

Even the patch of grass delights in the day.

Perhaps this is what John meant when he came to paint the garden and observed “so much colour”.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious lemon chicken with her especially savoury vegetable rice – itself a veritable complete meal. She drank Hoegaarden and I finished the sangiovese.

P.S. See my response to Luanne below as a recipe for the vegetable rice.

The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Sidecar

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

Towards the end of yesterday afternoon Jackie drove us to Emsworth to join in Ian’s birthday meal at Nicolino’s restaurant.

A month ago, I had photographed white doves in the morning light on and around the bell tower of St James’s Church. Yesterday a few remained on the roof basking in the evening light. A certain amount of interbreeding with pigeons appeared to have been going on.

Becky

and Ian were on their balcony to greet us.

We were joined in the restaurant by Ian’s friends Keith and Kirsty. The two men enjoyed reminiscing about their schooldays. The tilt of the picture behind her fiancé niggled Becky so much that he was required to straighten it.

I haven’t traditionally been over-keen on Italian food. Nicolino’s, in serving quite the best I have ever tasted, has provided the exception that proves the rule. I can’t remember what my starter was called, but, like all the others, it was a meal in itself.

The calzone that followed was a fresh, firm, parcel with succulent contents.

I didn’t really have room for this splendid summer pudding, but I forced myself.

My wine was Le Focaie sangiovese Maremma Toscana 2012. It didn’t come by the glass, so I brought half a bottle home. I suppose if I stretched my brains I would be able to name some of what the others consumed, but I really can’t be bothered.

Jackie drove us home on the M27 afterwards as she had done on the outward journey. This had been when our curiosity was aroused by the unusual sidecar passenger of a vintage motorcycle.

We just had to overhaul the biker.

Who was the intriguing little chap,

gradually coming into view,

looking this way and that?

Could it be?

Surely not?

Yes. A dog. Strapped in a seatbelt. I do hope the motorcyclist saw the thumbs up sign and the camera lens I poked out of the window as we passed.

My title pays homage to Mark Haddon’s superb little novel, required reading for anyone involved with autism, ‘The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime’.

P.S. My thanks are due to Barrie Haynes who put this on a Facebook comment: ‘This is a nine year old retro Triumph Bonneville (Yankie type with high bars.) It is still in production and named after the Utah Salt Flats where the company had some success. Those panniers would have set him back a pretty penny and, according to the signs, the sheepdog is Scottish! There is an urbane myth about why this section of the M27 was originally laid in concrete sections? They say that it was because of the ‘Oil Crisis’ around that time. Hope this is of help.’

Stand-off

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

Sunshine having returned, we took a drive in the forest this morning, and found ourselves centred on Brockenhurst, on the outskirts of which stands

The White Cottage. I’m no expert, but this looks to me to be a relatively new building in keeping with its bucolic neighbourhood.

When we last visited St. Nicholas’s Church with Jessie and Guru I concentrated on the New Zealand War Graves, also featured in ‘There Is Some Corner Of An English Churchyard’ which has a close-up of the fern sculpture in the bottom left of this picture.

Today I paid more attention to the church itself

and to its older, tilting, more weathered, gravestones.

http://www.newforestexplorersguide.co.uk/heritage/brockenhurst/parish-church.html tells us this about this historic place of worship:

‘Brockenhurst Parish Church of St. Nicholas is located in beautifully peaceful surroundings just under 0.5 kilometres (1/4 mile) to the south-east of the village centre. It is considered to be the oldest church in the New Forest. Indeed, Brockenhurst is the only New Forest village for which a church was mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086 AD – along here with 6 smallholders and 4 slaves with 2½ ploughs; and woodland at 20 pigs.

An earlier Saxon church was located on the same site as Brockenhurst Parish Church – Saxon herring-bone work can be seen in the south wall of the old Nave – and some consider that there may have also been a pagan temple or Romano-British church here, too, as the mound on which the church sits is thought to be at least part man-made.

Other elements of the current Parish Church structure date back to the 12th century, whilst the tower was added in the 18th century, and now blends well with the timeless surroundings.

This and other alterations were not, however, always so favourably viewed. John Wise, writing in the early 1860s, noted that: ‘The church has been sadly mutilated. A wretched brick tower has been patched on at the west end; and on the north side a new staring red brick aisle, which surpasses even the usual standard of ugliness of a dissenting chapel.’

Wise did go on say, though: ‘If the church, however, has been disfigured, the approach to it fortunately remains in all its beauty. For a piece of quiet English scenery nothing can exceed this. A deep lane, its banks a garden of ferns, its hedge matted with honeysuckle, and woven together with bryony, runs, winding along a side space of green, to the latch gate, guarded by an enormous oak, its limbs now fast decaying, its rough bark grey with the perpetual snow of lichens, and here and there burnished with soft streaks of russet-coloured moss; whilst behind it, in the churchyard, spreads the gloom of a yew, which, from the Conqueror’s day, to this hour, has darkened the graves of generations.’

And most of that remains true to this day, although the old oak tree no longer stands. The churchyard yew was, though, carbon dated in the mid-1980s, and found to be more than 1,000 years old. Its girth was 15 feet in 1793, 17 feet in the early 1860s, 18 feet 4 inches in 1915, and now, at 5 feet from the ground, it is more than 20 feet round.

Richardson, King and Driver on their late-18th century New Forest map show what is now the tarmac road leading to the church from the then turnpike, but give equal prominence to the green lane running north-south on the eastern side of the church.

Maybe in those days both were of similar status, and kept in a similar state of repair. But whatever, the green lane now offers quiet passage to and from the village, away from the small number of cars on the modern road. Overarched by coppiced hazels, and in places a very definite hollow-way with moss-clad banks, the lane in spring is bright with bluebells and pennywort. Here walkers can re-trace the footsteps of church-going travellers from many centuries ago.

Brusher Mills (1840-1905), the celebrated New Forest snake-catcher, is buried in the churchyard – the ornate headstone shows Brusher outside his woodland hut, holding up a tangle of snakes.

Here also can be found the graves of more than one hundred New Zealand, Indian and other soldiers who died in Brockenhurst field hospitals during and immediately after the First World War. An annual service, attended by a representative of the New Zealand High Commission and of the New Zealand Forces, is held on the Sunday next to Anzac Day.’

References:
Domesday Book, Hampshire: General Editor, John Morris
The New Forest: Its History and Scenery: John R. Wise
A Guide to the New Forest: Heywood Sumner
Churches of the New Forest: Barry and Georgina Peckham
Brockenhurst New Forest Hampshire: http://www.brockenhurst-newforest.org.uk/churches.html

Further on Jackie spotted a sounder of swine snuffling after fallen mast.

Suddenly one of the saddlebacks began tearing around the trees out from which trotted three ponies who then stood off, at a safe distance, watching the pigs that had ousted them from their pasturage.

Eventually the horses gingerly returned, but, occasionally offering an irritated kick, still kept the pigs at leg’s length.

Perhaps they were talking about this one. At any rate, its ears were apparently burning.

The standoff was eventually acceptable to both parties, and we went home to lunch.

Later this afternoon we will set off for Emsworth where we will visit Nicolino’s restaurant for Ian’s birthday meal.