Month: August 2018

High Street Gallery

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This afternoon Jackie drove Elizabeth and me to Lyndhurst so that my sister could replenish her cabinet at the Antiques Centre. This gave me the opportunity to perch on a bench alongside the high street where I was able to watch the world going by, and, of course photographing visitors galore. This selection of photographs is virtually random. Although each bears a title in the gallery

 

You will see in each shot what catches your own eye or imagination. I will just highlight the sequence where a couple of dog walkers approach Paws in the Forest from one direction, and pass a little girl, coming down the hill with her mother, and enjoying an ice cream , some of which drips onto her forearm.

This evening the three of us dined on Jackie’s splendid sausage casserole; swede mash; crunchy carrots, and firm cauliflower. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and Elizabeth and I drank Mendoza Parra Alta Malbec 2017

 

 

I Pressed Publish Prematurely

Before Jackie and I repaired to The Royal Oak, I published today’s post without my customary coda.

Jackie enjoyed a very good burger meal with Amstel.

My choice was rump of lamb complemented by Merlot.

This Later Season

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This morning I learned that my PSA result was clear – no action required. It is an interesting phenomenon that this is one situation in which no news is good news. The GP only contacts the patient if there is a problem. Otherwise the patient has to make the call.

This afternoon Jackie drove me to Sears Barbers for Peter to cut my hair. Afterwards we visited Tanners Lane,

where a few others were having fun. Two women, children, and a Labrador collected shells; a young man walked his dog; two people rowed a canoe.

A gull atop a post ignored the swirling eddies where currents clashed in the otherwise calm waters.

En route to this site we had noticed a glimpse of the view across to the Isle of Wight from Shotts Lane. The second picture reveals the Isle of Wight ferry and smoke from a fire on the island. The cattle in the third image conveniently wandered into shot.

In order to remove the five barred gate from the scene I needed to scale it a bit, then climb down again.

Pheasants in Sowley Lane, no longer dressed in their mating finery, reflected this later season by picking at stubble in a ploughed field. Others sought the shelter of the Becks Farm drive.

The Reality

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This afternoon Jackie drove me out to Calshot and back.

Waiting in the queue at the Lymington level crossing gave me the opportunity to focus on one of the hanging baskets that adorn the lampposts of the town.

One of the cattle on the moor near Beaulieu Road Station suckled quite a large calf.

Ower Farm on Calshot Road is a splendid Georgian building.

 

On Calshot beach’s shingle, along which a gentleman led a colour coordinated little girl,

and beyond which yachts enhanced the seascape;

gulls basked, preened, and squawked and saw off a couple of crows. One of the sea birds homed in on an ice cream cone and hopped onto the wooded parapet.

The photograph above of Ower Farm is how an Estate Agent’s brochure may have presented it.

In reality it is hemmed in by Fawley Power station.

This evening the three of us dined on Jackie’s splendid lamb jalfrezi with savoury rice. Mrs Knight drank Hoegaarden, Elizabeth drank Becks Blue, and I finished the Saint-Chenian

 

 

Cockapoo, Cattle, And Equine Landscape

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This morning Jackie drove me to New Hall Hospital for a follow up visit to Mr Kask, my orthopaedic surgeon. At the same time Louisa and her daughters left to visit a cousin in Cambridge.

Mr Kask was happy with my progress and considered that the right knee replacement could wait until after an appointment in three months time.

As I opened up my camera on the way home, I found two photographs of Geri (Halliwell), sitting on my chair, therein. This, I believe, was my daughter’s reminder that I had not featured her young cockapoo in my weekend posts. I could imagine myself as a small boy  choosing such a dog for a pet, purely on account of the name of the breed.

I disembarked on the green at Mockbeggar to photograph a small, motley, herd of fly-bearing cattle in occupation. Mostly black and white adults, there were a few calves, a couple of brown and white ones having been adopted.

The landscape near Linwood was enhanced by ponies wandering around the vicinity of the aptly named Appleslade car park. Apples and hawthorn fruit mingled among the trees, and we encountered the common sight of patiently optimistic ponies planted before a cottage gate.

This evening we enjoyed a drink on the patio before dining on Jackie’s roast lamb; roast and boiled potatoes, including sweet ones; runner beans from the garden; and sautéed peppers, onions, and mushrooms. Elizabeth and I drank Saint-Chinian 2016 and the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden.

Hauling Grandpa

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Leaving Elizabeth house and dog sitting, the rest of us spent the morning in Burley. It is amazing how much time can be occupied in scouring a few tourist shops in a village with a reputation built on mythical witches.

Even before reaching the fudge shop in the alley linking the car park with the high street, everything on offer had to be explored. Samples of their produce were handed out outside Burley Fudge, next door to which a vast number of different New Forest ice creams were on sale. Jackie disappeared into

Witchcraft

and returned with two witches who stood cackling on the alfresco table guarding our fudge and ice cream.

I had sat on a picnic bench seat while the first row of outlets had been explored. In order to transfer to the ice cream parlour I needed to be hauled to my feet by two strong young ladies.

While the rest of the enchantresses’ attractions were being carefully combed, Jackie and I sat on a bench near the war memorial.

A splendid chicken circling our seat craned its neck hoping to catch some of Jackie’s fudge, whilst its rooster crowed from a nearby fence. In his eagerness to photograph the cock, a foreign visitor, unfamiliar with cattle grids, put a foot through the bars, filling his shoe with muddy water and receiving an earful from his wife.

Across the road the Cycle Hire establishment was exceedingly busy. Traffic streamed down the street, making it extremely difficult for a couple with two small children carried with them on specially designed bikes to return their rented equipment.

Danni and Andy joined us later in the afternoon and joined in the general merriment. The eight of us dined on Jackie’s superb steak pie; crunchy carrots, cauliflower, cabbage; and creamy mashed potato. This was followed by apple, apricot and blackberry crumble with ice cream or cream. The girls had picked and washed the blackberries this afternoon. Red wine, Hoegaarden, coke, and water were variously consumed. I drank a Parra Alta Malbec 2016.

Bookbinding And Slime

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My youngest daughter brought her daughters to visit for a couple of days. The fact that heavy rain fell  all day long, causing delay in their arrival until mid-afternoon did not in any way mar a marvellous afternoon and evening.

Elizabeth introduce the girls to bookbinding. Carefully, clearly, and comprehensively she took her great-nieces through the process of making books. They were instructed in selecting and cutting their paper; folding, binding, and stitching the pierced pages;  decorating the covers and spines; and finally applying the book press. Their Mum lent an occasional hand.

Afterwards, Elizabeth’s tutees reciprocated with a lesson in making slime. At one point there was a spillage of glitter.

This evening we dined on tender roast lamb; sweet and ordinary roast potatoes; cabbage, carrots, cauliflower. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden, whilst the other three adults drank Trivento reserva Malbec 2017. Later, I believe, we will enjoy Jackie’s apple and apricot crumble with custard, cream, or ice cream according to taste.

 

Two Pom-Poms And A Perpetual Calendar

This morning I printed a set of photographs of his work last Sunday for Aaron.

Jackie liked this one so much that I produced one for her. It shows Aaron’s careful sensitivity in showing his nephew his craft.

Afterwards I photographed those items I missed yesterday of which Jackie is justifiably proud.

This is an hydrangea picked up for a song in Lidl when the heatwave raged. She has kept it well watered in a pot.

These heucheras have all been taken from cuttings and await their permanent positions next year.

More gladioli and dahlias thrive in the New Bed.

The Head Gardener has raised six pots of chillies from seed. Demon Reds are now appearing.

This afternoon Jackie and I drove to Upper Dicker to attend Poppy and Becky’s joint birthday party. Also present were, of course, Mat, Tess, Ian, and Becky’s friends Miche and Louis. We enjoyed fresh bread, sausage, paté, dips, cheese, chicken, sausage rolls, and, naturally, a superb cake crafted by Tess. Beers, wines, and soft drinks were available.

Here, Becky, sporting sunnies and two pom-poms given to her by Poppy, demonstrates her ecstatic delight at the perpetual calendar Jackie and I gave her.

We needed no further sustenance on our return home.

Late Summer Flowering

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I began the day with a walk round the garden with the camera. Jackie joined me to ensure that I did not miss any of her special successes.

First was the front of the house, with clematis, nasturtiums, solanum and verbena bonariensis festooning the trellis in front of the garage door; honeysuckle old and new, and pink roses having another flush; and planters of geraniums, lobelia, and petunias.

Constantly watered geraniums and other goodies thrive along the kitchen wall, opposite Jackie’s precious pineapple plants (eucomis, but I can’t get the alliteration with that) in the bed.

Begonias beside the Head Gardener’s Walk spill out of their pot. The ferns in front of them were plucked from less hospitable positions and replanted by She Who Walks The Path.

Jackie paid particular attention to hydrangeas during the long hot spell. Some, like one in the Dragon Bed, and other low-lying specimens, were little more than dried up sticks. The Phantom version, after which its path has been named, has not flowered for three years. The blooms are much smaller than they should be, but at least they are there.

Rudbeckia, Japanese anemones and a late blooming, self-seeded day lily brighten the palm bed. The pink Japanese anemones occupy the Kitchen Bed.

More rudbeckia grace the grass patch border, as do lobelias Cardinalis.

We have crinum Powelliae in the Cryptomeria Bed; ginger lilies, and white gladioli in the Weeping Birch Bed.

The Westbrook Arbour planting, including that seated in the cane chair, has matured well, as have the solanum and clematis soaring above the dead tree at the far end of the Brick Path. Penny Lane has claimed the Gothic Arch.

Roses Lady Emma Hamilton, Absolutely Fabulous, Winchester Cathedral, Gaujard, and Hot Chocolate thrive in the revived Rose Garden;

the unknown peach rose and climbing Compassion overlook the patio.

This afternoon Jackie drove me to Lymington Hospital where a little of my blood was extracted for a PSA test, essentially to rule out prostate cancer.

This evening the three of us dined at the Wallhampton Arms. Jackie enjoyed a smoked haddock fishcake starter; Elizabeth, potted shrimps; and whitebait for me. The ladies each chose spatchcock chicken as a main course, whereas I Chose ribeye steak. Jackie drank Moretti while Elizabeth and I shared a bottle of Nine Lives merlot 2016. Back at home, our dessert consisted of Jackie’s splendid apple and apricot crumble and custard.

Watch Out

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Setting the mood nicely, a sheet of heavy cloud leaked steady precipitation dripping down our windscreen all the way to New Hall Hospital for my appointment with Miss Melissa Davies, consultant urologist early this morning. Windscreen wipers swept across my vision. After an examination I’d rather not describe, and a full questionnaire I was able to leave with a certain amount of optimism signalled by the clearance of the skies and the emergence of sun separating the clouds. I do have to order a specific blood test and ask my GP to recommend a procedure involving a miniature camera and an anaesthetic.

Feeling rather hearty, we stopped at the charming village of Hale which I photographed without the need to numb my consciousness.

“You’re not photographing that are you?” asked the local resident who did not think the sculpture on the edge of the green looked much like  a pony and foal.

The tree behind the sculpture was planted in 1992 to commemorate the fortieth anniversary of the accession of Queen Elizabeth II. The brass plaque explaining this is headed ‘Kinges Oak’.

A string of cyclists sped past the green,

on the other side of which a solitary equine representative stood before the school, the students of which will be playing where it stands once they return from the Summer break.

All post in the forest is delivered from little red vans, like the one driven by the postman enjoying a chat with a resident of one of the attractive thatched cottages.

The village is approached by narrow tree-lined lanes. I wondered whether the above brick built structure was the ice house once belonging to Hale House.

From the higher levels could be seen a patchwork quilt flung across the landscape,

above which patrolled a predatory raptor.

A herd of cows dined on the upper slopes.

 

The whole length of Roger Penny Way is punctuated by warning signs alerting drivers to the possibility of animals on the road. One is ‘Watch Out……’ pictured here. This flock had passed the sign when making their way across the road to this pasture. While I focussed on them a large bovine ambled down the centre of the minor road to my left to join its ovine cousins.

Afterwards we brunched at the Walkford Diner. Here we enjoyed huge traditional breakfasts cooked on a griddle. Black puddings and haggis, for example, are imported from Stornaway, and potato scones are just like the ones Mum used to make. Only when inside did we realise that the establishment was run by Ian, who had produced excellent meals at Molly’s Den. These were even better.

It will therefore come as no surprise that I could not join in the ladies’ enjoyment of Jackie’s beef in red wine dinner. (Mum is better and Elizabeth is back with us). I was, however, able to manage the Culinary Queen’s apple and apricot crumble and custard, and a couple more glasses of the Fleurie.