October 2017 – derrickjknight

I Hadn’t Seen Rahul

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This morning Jackie drove us to the GP surgery at Milford on Sea where we were given our flu jabs. There is nothing like joining the priority group above a certain age for letting us know where we belong.

Afterwards we travelled on for a short trip in the forest.

Gates Cottage, with its attractive picket fences is nicely situated

on a bend in Mead End Road near Lymington.

Inquisitive as always, a pair of cattle, possibly Herefords, peered through a hedge alongside the driveway to Greenslade Farm opposite the thatched cottage.

Bracken in the hedgerows wears its autumn hues.

We turned off into another lane,

and returned home via Hordle Lane where the new housing development

has changed forever the view from All Saints Parish Church,

the graveyard of which

is donning its autumn splendour.

This afternoon we returned to NatWest in Lymington where I collected the Australian dollars I am sending to Orlaith for her fifth birthday.

Jackie waited in the car for me at the bottom of the High Street while I wandered down photographing the seasonal displays.

I began with the graveyard of St Thomas and All Saints church, containing some of the souls we remember this evening;

where holly berries proclaim the season.

Like Pizza Express, we take the opportunity to amuse with spiders and ghouls carved from pumpkins featured on this bunting;

and scary creatures peering from their window.

The Dogs Trust display also includes a discreet poppy.

Inside Costa Coffee, a wandering pumpkin selects a snack from the cabinet.

English and Continental Chocolates’ cornucopia includes a number of witches of which Burley would be proud.

Living up to the outlet’s name White Stuff displayed an albino pumpkin.

The Save The Children shop favoured horror.

Across the road Lounges Coffee Shop and Rose Garden Craftsstruck a lower key.

This crafted pumpkin is in drydock.

It is probably appropriate that The Gilded Teapot’s window should show falling leaves.

In common with a number of our towns and villages, Lymington remembers those souls who never came back from Flanders, by fixing a poppy to each lamp post.

It wasn’t until I cropped and enlarged the two images that I realised that I had photographed Rahul, one of the delightful Lal Quilla waiters. He is on the left, speaking on his mobile phone. On his way back down the hill a little later he stopped for a chat, neither of us being aware that I had immortalised him. I will make some prints for our next visit to the restaurant.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy chilli con carne with wild rice and peas. I drank more of the Fronton.

Your Choice

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This morning, including material from ‘Oiling The Lion’, and from ‘The Hornby Train Set’, I continued writing ‘A Knight’s Tale’.

This afternoon, Jackie drove me to Lymington to visit the bank. This is now the nearest NatWest branch remaining open. My chauffeur parked outside and I joined a small queue. We spent quite some time listening to the lone cashier negotiating with a woman about whether or not she should withdraw £10 before Saturday. The problem was compounded by another woman having difficulty in operating the rapid deposit machine. Eventually it was my turn to be attended to. I needed to order some Australian dollars to send to Orlaith for her fifth birthday. This involved putting my bank card into a machine. It was then that I was informed that I was in Lloyd’s Bank and that NatWest was next door. I turned and entered the next building. All went smoothly after that.

We continued on to a forest drive.

At Brockenhurst, grazing ponies,

leisurely cyclists,

and eager walkers,

some with dogs, enjoyed the late afternoon sun

that lit the autumn leaves,

and was a little lower by the time we reached Rhinefield Ornamental Drive, and stretched even longer shadows.

A group of ponies hovered on one verge, contemplating crossing to the other side.

trees stretched over

streams that flowed under the road, and, like Narcissus, admired their reflections.

In photographing the forest scenes I occupied myself deciding whether to offer images in colour

or to convert them to black and white.

For this image, colour,

or black and white? It is your choice.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious chilli con carne with peas and rice. I drank Arboresque Fronton 2016.

The End Of British Summer Time

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Aaron was so pleased with our John Cook sculpture of him that he asked for a photograph. Naturally I printed him a copy of each of those that appeared in ‘A Particularly Strong Clue’.

Among other tasks today, he strengthened the new recycled gates arbour, under which the owl now stands on its plinth.

The planting in the foreground of the above photograph is just part of the extensive clearance and refurbishment of the West Bed that Jackie has achieved in recent weeks.

At the bed’s southern end verbena and pelargoniums still thrive in the urns, and erigerons carpet the surrounds of the New Bed.

Pelargoniums,

begonias of various shades,

and geraniums like the blue Rozanne still add colour.

Fuchsias abound;

tiny Hot Lips salvias dance in the Cryptomeria Bed;

Million Bells petunias entice campanologists at the corner of the patio alongside the kitchen wall.

Hebes

and honeysuckle seem to think it is Spring.

Roses like Margaret Merrill,

Lady Emma Hamilton,

Penny Lane,

and the deep pink climber soaring above the Oval Bed, remain confused.

Nasturtiums twine everywhere,

yet the winter flowering clematis Cirrhosa seems a little early,

as it festoons the gazebo under which I stood to produce this image of the path named after it.

To the right of the far end of that path, this was the view across the Cryptomeria Bed, showing the few leaves of the weeping birch that survived the recent storm.

The setting back of our clocks by one hour at 2 a.m. this morning signalled the official end of British Summer Time. Of course no-one gets up at that time to adjust all the timepieces in the house. We just have to try to remember when we get up.

This evening we dined at Lal Quilla. My main meal was lamb taba shashlik jalfrezi; Jackie’s was chicken chom chom. We shared onion rice, an egg paratha, and onion bhaji, and both drank Kingfisher. Service and food were as good as ever.

None So Brazen

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Autumn tidying in the garden produced enough clippings to warrant a trip to the Efford Recycling Centre. In exchange for two bags of these and £4 we returned with four firm chair cushions for raising the front passenger seat, and a plinth for the owl in the new arbour.

Towards the end of the afternoon we drove through the forest and stopped at Hatchet Pond

where gulls occasionally took off after food,

and donkeys attempted to share visitors’ refreshments.

When I asked the group in a camper van if they minded the photographs, the gentleman, beaming, replied: “I don’t mind. It’s not my donkey”.

Approaching Brockenhurst on our way home, we deviated to that extension of Highland Water that flows under the A337.

Shadows were cast beneath the trees.

A family and a couple lingered, enjoying the last rays of sunshine.

Tried not to trip over tree roots, probably laid bare when the stream has been in spate.

The usual samples of litter had been left behind, none so brazen as this.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious lamb cobbler, new potatoes, carrots, and Brussels sprouts. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Graves.

“Don’t Get Me In Your Picture”

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Our friend Sheila Knight died last week. She had been ill for some time. We will be unable to attend the funeral, but I had been asked to write a tribute. I did so this morning and e-mailed it. It will be entered in a book and read out at the service.

At midday Jackie drove me to Milford on Sea for Peter at Sears Barbers to cut my hair.

Opposite the hairdressers Keith Mitchel was refurbishing the telephone box. He told me that the Parish Council had bought it for £1 from the telephone company and were seeking local views on the purpose to which it should be put.

We then travelled along the coast road. Sun sparkled on the Solent. The Isle of Wight and The Needles were nicely silhouetted against a streaky sky;

a speedboat sped across the surface of the sea,

into which three boys lobbed rocks.

We lunched at Sails café in Barton on Sea.

Travelling north past Ringwood we paused beside Linbrook Lake, and watched reflections in a stream that feeds it.

Browning bracken curled in the woodland;

spiders span their webs therein (can you spot one?).

As we rose to higher land we spied a marina down below,

and a sunbathed landscape with deer.

On a bend entering Ibsley a herd of cattle, mainly Herefords (identified by Bruce in his comments below), sprawled on the leaf-strewn sward. The majority of these creatures sported identical black eyes;

the odd chestnut brown made the exception;

all were tagged with their owner’s details.

Families frolicked in the nearby stream;

rounding the bend past the cattle visitors were greeted by

a van selling a variety of ice creams, some of what this gentleman called “come and buy me colour”.

Cattle at Gorley Lynch made their leisurely way along the road. So, perforce, did we.

High ground at Ogdens swarmed with snorting, snuffling, mast-seeking pigs.

As I aimed to photograph a gentleman jogging past some porkers, a woman opened her car door, crying “don’t get me in your photograph”. Recognising the humour in her voice, I pointed out that she had pushed her way into it. She and her two young girls had stopped to admire the animals which they photographed very well on their tablets. We enjoyed a pleasant conversation during which she expressed satisfaction with her portrait.

Our way at Frogham was blocked by a donkey, fast homing on on which was a dog walker with a number of charges.

This evening we returned for another excellent Indian meal at Bartlett’s restaurant in the Church Hall at Bransgore. We took our own drinks. Jackie’s was Hoegaarden and mine Graves.

P.S. See Paol’s comment below for good further information on Herefords

Catching Up On ‘A Knight’s Tale’

Today, another warm, overcast, and dull one, I made considerable headway on ‘A Knight’s Tale’, which had somewhat staggered to a halt.

In doing so, I plundered text and illustrations from posts ‘Wimbledon College As I Knew It’; ‘Did You Mean The Off Break?’; ‘Latin Gave Me Up’; ‘Get Two’; and ‘No-one Forgets A Good Teacher’.

This evening we dined on a second sitting of Hordle Chinese Take Away fare with which I drank Chateau de Malle red Graves 2013. Jackie had drunk her Hoegaarden on the new arbour bench a little earlier.

Now is perhaps the time to mention chopsticks. The Culinary Queen finds it quite a painful experience to watch my prowess with these implements. She thinks I am a bit slow. I think I am rather skilled. She beat me to laying the table today, so I didn’t get any.

A Day For Ice Cream

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This splendidly spring-like day was conducive to more autumn tidying in the garden, after which we went for a drive in the forest.

We hadn’t been down Pauls Lane before. We hoped we wouldn’t meet anyone approaching from the opposite direction.

From a little further on we noticed that, despite the temperature in the teens, all the horses in a field were wearing their winter rugs. There was just room, on a bend, for Jackie to squeeze the Modus onto a bend for me to take these photographs.

Ponies sheltered under the trees outside the entrance to Settorn’s Caravan and Camping site.

One must have trampled on

this group of toadstools.

Burley was so congested with traffic that we struggled to find a spot in the car park.

The families of visitors made us realise that it was half-term.

Previous posts about this village have mentioned the focus on witches, none less than on the approach to Halloween, as demonstrated by this cleverly carved pumpkin. ‘Witchcraft’ tells the tales of the legends of Burley.

A Coven of Witches was a great draw for many.

New Forest Cycle Hire was doing even brisker business than usual.

This gentleman towed a trailer.

One could imagine that small children having first selected their favourite ice cream flavour,

and stood containing themselves while the purchase was made,

might have had difficulty not rushing into the neighbouring Country Wines. This shop sported a notice on the open door indicating that the cones were not welcome inside.

It was definitely a day for ice creams.

Perhaps this lad needed to consume his before entering the 18th Century home of A Coven.

Others licked theirs on the move.

As we left the village the Burley Wagon Rides customers were being returned to base.

A mile or so later a pair of piglets snuffled among the mast.

This evening we dined on Hordle Chinese Take Away’s flavoursome fare, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Corbieres

A Particularly Strong Clue

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Helen and Bill dropped in just before lunch bringing a pair of splendid engraved cut glass goblets for our wedding present. We enjoyed conversation over coffee. Elizabeth came for lunch. I left the gathering briefly to engage in a Screen View session with James Peacock, of Peacock Computers, who managed to solve the problem I had experienced in changing my profile picture to one that Becky had produced at Rachel and Gareth’s recent wedding.

My post ‘Cottenham Park’ contains the story of the teenage accident to my left eye that was to necessitate a cataract operation about 25 years ago. At the time of the operation I was warned that future deterioration would be likely to require later laser treatment. Believing that time to have arrived I kept an appointment at Boots Opticians in New Milton this afternoon. My diagnosis was confirmed and a referral is to be made for surgery. Interestingly, the optometrist was able to see those old stitches in the affected eye. This was a history lesson for him, because sutures are no longer used. He had never seen them before.

Jackie and Elizabeth came along with me, waited in Costa’s for me to finish, then helped me select some new specs. Before returning to her own home, my sister presented us with a commissioned terra cotta sculpture for another nuptial gift. She has herself begun pottery classes and commissioned this piece from her tutor.

Taking his references from photographs on this blog, John Cook, the sculptor, had produced this superbly detailed portrait. Here is a link to John’s site: http://picbear.com/morpheus_ceramics

Should any of my regular readers be at a loss as to the subject’s identity, this image contains a particularly strong clue.

This evening we dined on Thai fish cakes, served on a bed of sautéed onions and peppers with savoury rice.

I drank Castelmaure Corbieres 2015 and Jackie drank Hoegaarden – in our new goblets. As Helen had hoped, the J glass took a whole bottle of the recipient’s favoured Belgian beer.

What Was The Joke?

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Today being decidedly dank and dismal I delved into my colour negative archives and found some more from July 1992.

This first image is of Little Venice canal basin, probably taken from the section of Harrow Road above. The large barge, named Bloom, in the centre of the picture is an art gallery featuring the work of Alex Prowse. Beauchamp Lodge, where I rented counselling space, is out of shot at bottom left. I ran many a mile from there, under the blue bridge, and west along the towpath. The houseboat to the right of the bridge then belonged to Richard Branson.

The rest of these photographs were from the London leg of my 50th birthday celebrations.

Here is Louisa occupying her favourite perch on Matthew’s back, flanked by Sam and a family friend.

In the garden we have Paul M. and Carole S;

Michael, Wolf,

and Brian;

Becky and Steve.

Heidi

had produced an excellent buffet and was able to help herself to some of it.

Whatever Becky’s joke was,

her sister-in-law twigged it eventually.

Late this afternoon, the remortgage loan came through. We drove into a murky forest and took no photographs.

Yesterday’s illustration of a lamb cobbler was taken from the internet.

Since Jackie had made two, and we enjoyed the second one this evening, it seemed only fair that this image should feature today. The dish was served with crunchy carrots, soft spinach, and firm runner beans, to all of which juicy gravy was added. I finished the Ribera del Duero and Jackie drank Hoegaarden..

Recycling In Practice

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When we purchased these two pairs of cast iron gates as part of our haul from the Efford Recycling Centre on 3rd October 2015, we had an idea that they might come in useful one day. All we needed was the inspiration to come up with an idea. Accordingly, two years on, Jackie became inspired. It should, she thought, be within AP Maintenance’s Aaron’s capabilities to create an arbour over the new bench in the West Bed.

Today he proved he was up to the job. Carefully placing the gates so that their ornamentation was symmetrically opposite, Aaron fixed two of them to metal supports

that he had driven into the soil.

They were then ready to receive the ridge pieces;

after the application of which designer and craftsman could relax and enjoy their creation. Because the upper frames are heavier than the lower ones a couple more supports will be added.

A cobbler is a meat dish of lamb, goat, or beef with a topping of scones. This evening Jackie served up the lamb version accompanied by new potatoes, broccoli, and manges touts (no, WordPress, not manages tools), with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Ribera del Duero.