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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.
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