May 2018 – Page 4 – derrickjknight

Spot The Partridge

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While I lurked with a lens, Jackie continued, carefully, to cultivate the garden this morning.

I had been struck by the trail of red from near tulips at the window to distant rhododendron.

Other touches of red are provided by the geraniums in the iron urn at the head of the Gazebo Path, rhododendrons, tulips, pieris, Vulcan magnolia, and heucheras;

little orange poppies have now opened out,

and forget-me-nots and vincas are ubiquitous.

Today there was no lull in the gloriously sunny weather when we went for a drive this afternoon.

We took a short walk round MacPenny’s garden at Bramsgore where rhododendrons and azaleas are beginning to enliven the beds and the pathways.

Most fields of cattle, like these at Thorney Hill, contain cud-chewing cows and languorous calves. They seem to be able to ignore the flies that surround their eyes and noses.

Elusive partridges seemed to be darting everywhere. Can you spot this one?

This evening we dined on Jackie’s juicy lamb biriani with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the pinot noir.

Cerebral Harley Davidsons (Before WordPress 10)

Here is my Facebook diary entry for 5th May 2012:

Two goldfinches and a wren were also spotted in the garden before we departed for The Firs, Elizabeth’s home in West End, near Southampton. The day was brighter by then, the journey enhanced by fresh plumage on the trees since last weekend, and the countryside coverlet now lit up by fields of rape.

Bikers were beginning to congregate at their cafe at East Meon, as we drove up the winding hill which sports loads of signs saying ‘Think Bike’. If you ask me it’s bad enough having thinking computers and mobile phones without having cerebral Harley Davidsons.

On the outskirts of Bishops Waltham we sat behind a steam engine bringing back memories of a childhood in Raynes Park as it crawled along blowing clouds of steam into the air and frustrating modern motor cars in a hurry.

“If I’d Known How Long They Lived I’d Never Have Married You”

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This morning the warm sun shone from a cloudy sky; this evening, still warm, the sun shone from a clear blue sky; this afternoon the sky was overcast. There are no prizes for guessing when we took a drive into the forest.

The first troop of animals that occupy the road was of sheep at Bramshaw. All but one left the green pitted with their hoof prints, some of which were water-filled. I made the mistake of setting out across this poxy terrain. This, in my current wobbly condition, caused Jackie, waiting in the car, some consternation.

I could really identify with one lame, bleating, creature, left alone to limp over to join its companions.

Further on, it was the turn of muddy cattle, cropping hedges, standing and staring on the winding, undulating, road, or wallowing in ditches, to disrupt the traffic.

Donkeys took up the baton at Frogham. Like yesterday’s pony a little white foal nudged its mother’s furry flanks,

took an inquisitive look at me, and had a good scratch. At this point I indulged in a pleasant conversation with a farmer who pointed out that the mother was in need of a good hoof trim. When the lady had married her husband she had owned six donkeys. Her husband had said that had he known how long they lived he would never have married her.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s splendid chicken jalfrezi and pilau rice. On the patio beforehand the Culinary Queen had drunk her Hoegaarden and I had finished the Paniza. I did, however, have a glass of Lellei 2015, a very quaffable Hungarian pinot noir from Lidl with my meal.

A Brave Little Boy (Before WordPress 9)

This is my Facebook diary entry for 2nd May 2012:

I have to say I am very encouraged by and grateful for the responses I have had to these posts. Keep them coming and I’ll do likewise.

Did a telephone supervision session this morning.

An hour’s walk took me to Sainsbury’s in North Cheam for a shop. Had acceptable fish and chips in the Blue Chip chippie in Sutton Common Road and came home by bus.

This time the boredom of Hillcross Avenue was relieved by a little boy aged 3/4. On the other side of the road he raced ahead of his father, pressed the button to operate the pedestrian traffic lights, and tore across the road ahead of his Dad who was pushing the pushchair. On my side of the road he turned to enter a footpath and came a real head-first cropper. He got up, no whinging or crying, rolled up his jeans leg to reveal a graze, said, quite cheerfully, ‘I’ve hurt myself’, then jabbered away excitedly. His Dad said ‘ If you can understand a word of that you are doing better than me’. I couldn’t. He said he’d get back to me.

After that ‘raindrops [kept] falling on my head…..’

This afternoon I reached page 250 of Flaubert’s ‘L’education sentimentale’.

Then cooked my version of Delia’s sausage casserole which we have just finished eating.

First Foal

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We enjoyed another beautifully sunny day today.

In the front garden the columnar prunus Amanogawa now reaches the top of the house and looks down onto the crab apple blossom, which is currently a magnet for bees;

the crimson red rhododendron brightens the corner beside the eucalyptus tree, and in the Palm Bed on the opposite side of the Gazebo Path a pastel pink variety is beginning to bloom.

Bluebells have now joined the honesty and the alliums beneath the red Japanese maple in the Kitchen Bed.

The weeping birch now has its foliage.

We have been trying to save a dying yellow-leaved tree. The main trunk is hollow at the base, but another clings to its side. Jackie has filled the gaping hole with a fern planted yesterday.

From now until well into the autumn a proliferation of yellow and orange self-seeded poppies will pop up all over the garden. Each bloom lasts a day but there are plenty of buds hanging around to replace them.

This afternoon Jackie drove me to Everton Post Office where I posted a small parcel to the new owner of my French house. We travelled on into the forest where

there was still much water on the moors, and enough moisture lay on the tarmac at the end of Jealous Lane to reflect the pillar box perched on a post.

Ignoring ponies of all shapes and sizes eating and drinking beside the road, a stately pheasant trotted across the moor.

Further along Shirley Holms, we met our first foal of the season. As is usual, the youngster, adhering to its mother’s flanks, found me worthy of interest, whilst the mare focussed on the grass.

A pair of mallards who appeared to have fallen out, and a colony of feeding rabbits occupied fields beneath the railway at the corner of Jealous Lane.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s tender chicken curry and pilau rice garnished with fresh coriander. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Paniza.

A Mouse In A Christmas Cracker (Before WordPress 8)

Here is my Facebook diary entry for 3rd May 2012:

Today I walked to Raynes Park and back via a fry-up at the Eat Well cafe in Grand Drive. Not up to the Martin Cafe standards, but ok. The long drag up Hillcross Avenue was lightened this time by the Independent Crossword which only lasted halfway. The paper got a bit damp.

A couple of days ago I mentioned the boring Blay-built houses. That was a little unfair because there is nothing wrong with the houses themselves. It is just that there are thousands of them in identical side streets, with no shops or other facilities, filling the area between Morden and Raynes Park (now referred in Estate Agents’ speak as West Wimbledon – provided you live on the right side of the railway). What were once pretty front gardens are gradually giving way to the motor car. Soon there will be nothing but standing room for cars in the fronts of all the houses.

This evening we ate Chicken Jalfrezi (one I made earlier) out of the freezer.

I am using a mouse I got out of a Christmas cracker.

The Spanish Invasion

Strong winds and heavy rain rampaged through the morning, keeping me occupied with administration and ironing, while Jackie did the shopping.

Just two of the administrative events are worthy of note. It is rather more complicated than I would have thought to close a French bank account which is in credit with no unpaid cheques outstanding. This has been exacerbated by what turned out to be a standard letter contradicting what I had been advised on the telephone. Phone calls and letters have been involved. I was advised to ignore the latest letter. I should be receiving a statement and a transfer of funds soon. We’ll see.

A further telephone call related to the setting up of a funeral plan. Well, you never know.

Soon after lunch the rain ceased and an assertive sun shouldered the dismal clouds aside, sending us off in search of bluebells.

Opposite the shadowy woodland of Shirley Holms

Doves on roof

Jackie spotted a pair of white doves on a farmhouse roof.

Bluebells and hellebores

In 1588 the Spanish Armada failed in their attempt to conquer England. A peaceful invasion is, however under way in the form of their national bluebells. These in our garden are bigger, stronger, and lighter in colour than

the English ones that still line the hedgerows and stock the woodlands of Boldre and other parts of the forest.

Muddy tracks have been left by the recent rain, but it is now warm enough for horses in fields to discard their rugs.

As we drove through East End the leader of a trio of three cows fixed our Modus with a stare and bellowed instructions to get out of the way.

An egret occupied the beach at Tanners Lane against the backdrop of rape fields on the Isle of Wight.

This evening we dined at The Royal Oak. Jackie enjoyed an excellent beef burger in sourdough bread with French fries and salad. My equally good meal was superbly cooked haddock, chips and peas. My heap of chunky chips with skins was extremely daunting and Jackie couldn’t finish her fries. She drank Amstell and I drank Malbec.

Shortest Ever Post (Before WordPress 7)

Here is my Facebook diary entry for 2nd May 2012:

“Jackie spotted the first fox of the season in the garden today – a very grey day, so that may be the only memorable thing about it”

Today’s weather is no better

Food For Blackbirds

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Having approached the end of my teens some time ago, I had come to a fork in my ‘A Knight’s Tale’, and couldn’t make up my mind as to which road to take. Today I set off again, taking material from posts ‘Auntie Gwen’ and ‘A Little White Lie’.

Jackie on Brick Path

Today was sunny but not much warmer than yesterday. However, Jackie was happily able to return to her work of tidying, weeding, and planting in the garden.

Most tulips are fully flouncing, but some are freshly flourishing;

Ajugas

ajugas are replacing cowslips in the Oval Bed.

We now have campions and marigolds.

The red Japanese maple, having been pruned of dead branches first by me and then by Aaron, has miraculously survived in the Kitchen Bed.

At the front of the house we have enough crab apple blossom to suggest that the blackbirds will be well catered for in the winter. The collared dove in the now over winter flowering cherry has a nest in a holly out of the picture.

We dined on Jackie’s succulent roast pork with perfect crisp crackling, Yorkshire pudding, mashed potato, ratatouille, runner beans, and carrots. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Paniza gran reserva 2009

Such A Creative Daughter (Before WordPress 6)

This is a slightly supplemented copy of my Facebook page of 1st May 2012:

“It’s wonderful to have such a creative daughter!

(The above relates to an e-mailed collage Becky sent me earlier. The caption is ‘Quads – separated at birth’ prompted by little Jessica’s face-painting of me)

Today’s perambulation took me along the North side of Morden (not National Trust) Park, which is extended by a sadly derelict former London Education Authority playing fields in which young Asian men were occupying disused tennis courts playing cricket. Then along Lower Morden Lane to the Merton and Sutton Joint cemetery to visit Vivien’s grave, the headstone of which Jackie and I are planning to clean up. It is a strangely sobering situation to see what the elements have done to a stone which has been in place for nearly 50 years………..
then back along the boringly relentless 2 mile long avenue of Blay-built houses that is Hillcross Avenue – a journey relieved by thoughts of ‘la recherche du temps perdu’.

In the evening Jackie and I ate at our favourite Sri Lankan restaurant – the Watch Me in Morden Road.”