Month: November 2018

Mostly Around Notting Hill

For this post I have reverted to the tried, tested, and trusted editorial facility.
I have almost come to the end of my Streets of London series of colour slides produced in the first decade of this century. Today I scanned a few from May 2008.

Crossing the Hammersmith & City Underground Railway line near Westbourne Park, Golborne Road W11 runs east from Portobello Road to Kensal Road. Situated at the northern end of Portobello Market It has a plethora of restaurants and antique shops.

‘This area of Notting Hill‘s northern corner has changed dramatically over its history. The area was part of the Great Forest of Middlesex; in 1543 the land was seized by Henry VIII and by the 18th century Golborne was farmland.

Golborne Road was named after Dean Golbourne, at one time vicar of St. John’s Church in Paddington. Until the middle of the 19th century it was no more than a country footpath crossing the fields of Portobello Farm, but in 1870 the road was widened, shops were built and the road was extended over the railway.
The Golborne Road area is sometimes known as “Little Morocco” due to the number of Moroccan restaurants and shops selling Maghrebian products located along the road.[1] The road also has renown in the Portuguese community for the two Portuguese pâtisseries at one end, Cafe d’Oporto and Lisboa Patisserie.’ (Wikipedia)

The story of the appearance of this sample of the work of Banksy on a wall in Acklam Road W10 is related in ‘Walls’.

Yeah Man in Lancaster Road W11 now appears to be Jay Dee’s. The spicy Caribbean takeaway remains highly acclaimed.

Also in this area of Notting Hill, St Luke’s Mews is where TV presenter Paula Yates lived and died of an accidental drug overdose in September 2000.

I have to rely almost entirely on my memory for the next two locations because the street names are somewhat indistinct. I can say that they were all photographed at the top end of Highgate High Street during one of my trips to Highgate Cemetery to make the illustrations to ‘The Magnificent Seven’. Perhaps my next archived series could be the pictures for that book.

The Angel Inn stands on the corner of that High Street and a square I cannot identify. Clearly the owners are somewhat biased, but their website boasts:

‘Discreetly stylish, authentically British – comfort and elegance combined
Perched above Highgate Village, one of London’s most distinguished suburbs, and just a stone’s throw from Hampstead Heath, The Angel Inn is an iconic London pub, ahead of the game in providing the perfect setting for a truly memorable drinking and dining experience.
Whether it’s a relaxed lunch, sumptuous Sunday roast, indulgent dinner or lazy brunch you’re looking for, we offer an enticing range of flavoursome dishes incorporating classic British ingredients with a creative twist, all accompanied by our exceptional range of cask ales, craft beers, fine wines and artisan spirits.
Classic with a bohemian edge, The Angel Inn combines traditional wood-panelling, period features and contemporary touches, boasting an open fire for those chillier months. Fostering a relaxed yet refined atmosphere, this convivial pub has the spirit of the great British local at heart; our dedicated team are committed to first class service and look forward to welcoming you and helping you unwind…’

This elegant little square is around there somewhere.

Also close to Highgate High Street, Castle Yard N6, with its intriguing little terrace, links North Road with Southwood Lane.

I can neither pinpoint this section of Marylebone’s York St W1, nor identify the church tower in the background. Perhaps a reader will be able to.

Baker Street and Gloucester Place (shown on this corner) are linked by Bickenhall Street W1.

Bartholomew Malthus, a character in Robert Louis Stevenson’s story ‘The Suicide Club’ resided at 16 Chepstow Place, W2.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s splendid savoury egg fried rice; spare ribs in barbecue sauce; mini spring rolls and prawn toasts with which I drank more of the Madiran.
P.S. Please refer to Lwbut’s comments below, for the answers to all my questions

Topiary Training

It was shortly after dawn on this overcast morning when Jackie set out to drive me through the gloom to New Hall hospital for a follow-up appointment with Mr Kask, my knee surgeon. 

Apparently walking on the undulating forest terrain is not affording me enough flexibility in the operated knee. I either need to use an exercise bike or take up again painful bending exercises. I don’t have a bike, so this afternoon I resumed the latter.

Otherwise all is well and I am scheduled for replacement right knee towards the end of January. With any luck I will have two good pins by the end of next year.

On our return journey Jackie parked beside the River Avon near Braemore Bridge on the approach to Woodgreen village.

Admiring the brickwork and tiles of the elderly mill buildings, including a shed roof in need of repair, I watched the mill race rushing under the bridge,

its turbulence sending the water weeds wildly waving beneath the surface of the river

on which swam swans and their cygnets, with a few mallards for good measure.

 Having ascended a steep hill through the village we arrived

at Woodgreen Common where brisk dog walkers and 

leisurely breakfasting ponies enhanced the scene.

On the way to Hale, a fluffy donkey foal was being initiated into topiary training until the trio crossed the road to tuck into tastier brambles.

Jackie parked halfway down the next hill from where I photographed the lane and its woodland environs.

Having bought some potting sand from Otter Nurseries on our return, we drove on to Steamer Point, paid the parking fee, trekked down to the Beach Hut Café on Friars Cliff beach promenade, and read a notice announcing that because of building works only coffee and cakes were available this morning. As we wanted big breakfasts we were somewhat disappointed. 

Not to be daunted we drove back to the Walkford Diner, which was closed because Monday is the day they carry out the cleaning. 

So we filled up with petrol, returned home, and lunched on cold chicken salad from plates on our knees while watching Bargain Hunt which at least wasn’t a repeat.

I have been encouraged by readers’ comments to persevere with the new editor. I still cannot see a preview, so I have to trust that my images can be enlarged.

This evening we dined at Lal Quilla where my main course was king prawn vindaloo; Jackie’s was Lal Quilla Special (chicken and minced lamb – rather hot); we shared special fried rice and a paratha, and both drank Kingfisher. The service was as friendly as ever and the food superb.

An Illusion Of Road Sense

In order to enjoy what might be our last day of autumn sunshine Jackie drove us into the forest this afternoon. We took the Undershore route to Pilley and beyond. Fallen leaves glowed on the passing spaces necessary on this narrow lane, and on pools and the footpath alongside Lymington reed beds.

As we passed a field along Church Lane, Boldre, I glimpsed working horses within it. In order to create these images it was necessary to poke my camera lens through spiky hedges and spikier still barbed wire. Some of the animals wore their winter rugs. I assumed those without such protection were the hardier forest ponies. I’m not sure what they made of my  protuberance. One stood and stared; others wandered away.

Burnished bracken spoke to golden oaks at Puttocks Bridge car park where

the lowering sun caused chestnut ponies’ pelts to metamorphose into rich velvet pile.

The mother of one foal crossed the road and ventured into the woodland on the other side. At first the youngster remained with its older companion;

then ambled across the road and nosed around among the fallen leaves.

The road here runs over the stream also spanned by the eponymous bridge, where a small family paddled in the shallows

while I admired the reflected trees, leaves, and skies.

Apples worthy of tempting Eve hung enticingly just out of reach of

the pony on the pavement initially fooling me into thinking it had developed road sense.

No such luck. Suddenly the creature stepped out in front of a car brought to an abrupt halt, and dawdled off along the tarmac. (The reason there are two sets here is revealed below)

Another adult led another youngster into the road. The skittish foal rushed along the pavement on the other side, 

chasing the chestnut before veering off to the left, presumably having spotted something more interesting.

Following elmediat’s helpful advice in his comments on yesterday’s post I have had one more try at enabling these images to be enlarged by readers. One amendment I noticed after drafting all this was that my images were cropped for alignment in the galleries, so, for example, the picture of the pony stepping in front of the car lost the all-important glimpse of the vehicle. Without cropping the shapes are also altered. I have left the very first set cropped, in order to check whether this is how they are presented, or whether the random selection we previously enjoyed is shown.

I still receive the ‘somewhat embarrassing’ message when I try to look at a preview, so I can’t check whether the enlarged viewing is possible before posting. If it is not, I will revert to the old system until the new is forced upon us. I am sure you will continue to let me know.

This evening we dined on roast chicken; sage and onion stuffing; Yorkshire pudding; roast potatoes and parsnips; tasty Brussels sprouts; and rainbow carrots; and gravy with meaty bits in it. This was followed by mixed fruit crumble and vanilla ice cream. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Madiran.

They Do Not Read Newspapers

This article from the front page of the New Forest Post dated

This article, from the front page of the New Forest Post of two days ago describes an incident in Sway Road early in the morning. The foal, later euphemistically ‘put down’, was in collision with a Mercedes Sprinter. The driver was unhurt. A local resident is quoted as saying: “A foal was hit and dragged down the road under the van. All of us locals are getting pretty annoyed. There have been a few foal deaths – the road is being used as a bit of a rat-run.” My paragraph is for the benefit of those who cannot read the cutting. I still haven’t worked out how to facilitate enlargement in the new editing facility.

It is so infuriating that those precious animals will have no chance to live as long as these ponies enhancing the landscape at Bashley.

Despite having the right of way on forest roads 

Donkeys, like these at Ibsley and South Gorley;

and ponies at Ibsley, have no road sense and they do not read newspapers. Notice how much more difficult it is to see them in the half light of dusk or early morning.

It was at dusk that smoke from a recently stoked bonfire clouded autumnal treetops at the bottom of Frogham Hill.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s splendidly spicy pasta arrabbiata, served with very hot ratatouille, and tender runner beans with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Reserve des Tuguets Madiran 2015.

Unfortunately, whenever I try to see a preview of the post I receive an apologetic message telling me that something has gone wrong. I do hope readers will be able to access the galleries in the usual manner.

Now I’m going to settle down to a session of recorded international rugby.

Chaucombe Green

This afternoon Jackie drove me to the pharmacy at Milford on Sea to collect a repeat prescription, and then on to Ringwood to buy printer inks from Wessex Photo.

On the way we passed Old Milton’s Chaucombe Green, which is becoming something of a memorial ground.

One of the ‘Lest We Forget’ outlined soldiers, sponsored by Councillor Geoff Beck, stands among autumn leaves fronting a bed planted with winter pansies.

A Flanders poppy decorates a lamppost beside the bordering pavement.

In ‘120 Animal Casualties’ I reported on the tally towards the end of last year posted on Roger Penny Way. I had been under the impression that this was the number of deaths.

Graphic standing silhouettes of those killed total 56. It would appear that the others were injured. As can be seen, no group of those animals who have the right of way on forest roads, went unscathed.

As I am trying to get my head around the new editing facility I cannot tell whether it will be possible for viewers to enlarge these images. I am therefore copying out the text of the Brief History of Milton Village. 

‘The manor of Milton (‘Mildeltune’) is listed in the Domesday Book of 1086 and literally means ‘Middle Farm’. It was part of the lands belonging to Hugh de Port, and the estate was held for him by William Chernet. The Chernet family maintained possession of Milton into the 13th century, although lesser families were managing the estate on their behalf. The most important of these were the Chaucombe (or Chalcombe) family, who were probably the first people to build a church in Milton in the mid 13th century. In 1303 Thomas de Chaucombe was given permission to hold a weekly market on Tuesdays at Milton, as well as an annual fair on the feast day of Mary Magdalene. From 1365 to 1565, the manor was in the possession of the Tyrrell family. The manor passed through various hands in subsequent centuries. The last significant owners were the Bursey family in the 19th century, and in the 1890s the remaining lands of the estate were subdivided and sold.’

I’m sure one or more of my blogging friends will let me know if this has been an unnecessary effort. 

The market mentioned above continues to this day, although at some stage it has moved to Wednesday.

This evening we dined on breaded chicken steaks from Tesco, which Jackie spiced up with very hot ratatouille, served with crisp sautéed potatoes and tender green beans. I finished the Merlot.

Peter Pan In Kensington Gardens

Today I scanned a few colour slides from April 2007
When I was living in Leinster Mews, Michael, Heidi, Emily, Oliver, and Alice visited me. It was imperative that we should take a trip into Kensington Gardens, and

Oliver,


Heidi and Alice should stand beside the Peter Pan statue;

and Oliver

and Alice should climb it.

Emily probably took this photograph of me and my grin;

she stood with her brother and sister beside No.100 Bayswater Road with its blue plaque recording J.M. Barrie’s residence there.

James Matthew Barrie, a Scottish author, was the creator of Peter Pan. There is much available information on the internet. I have chosen a link to the Encyclopaedia Britannica site.
The Royal Parks website has this to say about the statue:
‘Celebrating Kensington Garden’s famous fictional resident, the bronze statue features Peter Pan surrounded by squirrels, rabbits, mice and fairies.
You can find the Peter Pan statue to the west of the Long Water, in the same spot as Peter lands his bird-nest boat in the story, ‘The Little White Bird.’
Peter Pan creator and local resident JM Barrie was inspired by Kensington Gardens. He commissioned Sir George Frampton to build the statue which has been a favourite feature of the gardens since 1912.’

The railings of the gardens along Bayswater Road W2 form a weekend art gallery where painters of varying quality market their works

The afternoon we enjoyed a visit from Margery and Paul. We had a good and entertaining catch-up.
I have always thought that Jackie’s splendidly spicy Spanish omelette was the real thing. This evening I learned that it is not. Apparently the genuine article merely contains potatoes and onions. Jackie’s however, contains no potatoes. But it is stuffed with peppers, onions, mushrooms, garlic, and whatever else takes her fancy. This evening it was served with sautéed potatoes and five varieties of baked bean. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Merlot.

A Penchant For Dried Leaves

This afternoon Jackie drove me to the GP’s in Milford on Sea to order a repeat prescription.

We travelled via the winding, sunlit, autumnal, Barnes Lane.

We then turned back to the north of the forest.

Had the new traffic calming been installed on the road through Bramshaw, we wondered, in order to protect

the wandering donkeys always in evidence?

I have often seen them chewing prickly shrubs,

but a penchant for dried leaves was a new one for me.

Perhaps the efforts to slow the traffic had also been for the benefit of the basking, scratching, cud-chewing, cattle on and around the green, some of whom regularly diced with death.

The pannage period was not past for this parcel of pigs snuffling alongside Roger Penny Way. I was quite pleased to have positioned myself for these two shots, because I needed to venture down a soggy slope stepping over fallen, lichen covered, branches. Regular readers will know what happened last time I descended a much drier slope in a bit of a hurry.

Elizabeth is staying with Mum for a few days. Jackie and I dined on her splendid beef, mushrooms, and onion pie; Yorkshire pudding; new potatoes; roasted parsnips and butternut squash; and crisp cauliflower and carrots, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Calvet special release Merlot 2017.

No Madame Eglentyne

CLICK ON ANY IMAGE TO ENLARGE. THIS MAY BE REPEATED

This morning Jackie and I took a short drive into the forest.

We stopped for a while at East Boldre, where a pair of hungry donkeys lunched on cropped grass as they waited for a bus.

Even close to midday, neighbouring ponies cast elongated shadows.

The two less energetic greys, eventually rose awkwardly to their feet

and made a beeline to the summer-long dry ditch that is now filling up with drinking water.

Ponies lack the impeccable table manners of Madame Eglentyne, Geoffrey Chaucer’s Prioress, of whom he says ‘Hire over-lippe wyped she so clene That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene’. (Her upper lip was always wiped so clean That on her cup no speck or spot was seen).

This afternoon Helen and Bill dropped in with the sisters’ late father’s train set. Although blessed with three beautiful daughters, Don Rivett had no son. He therefore had to build up an electric train set for himself. Helen has safeguarded the smaller models, while Shelly has the larger ones. Helen and Bill are soon to move house. Jackie and I have now offered Helen’s set a temporary home for a few weeks.
Having taken Mum to Southampton Eye Hospital for treatment this afternoon, Elizabeth stayed with her while Jacqueline went out for a meal. She will therefore be back here later. Jackie and I dined on Mr Pink’s fish and chips and Garner’s pickled onions, with which I finished the Minervois.

Pink Seas

CLICK ON ANY IMAGE IN A GROUP TO ACCESS ITS GALLERY, INDIVIDUAL MEMBERS OF WHICH CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE BY SCROLLING DOWN AND CHECKING BOX AT BOTTOM RIGHT
Yesterday I finished reading ‘An Orderly Man’, the third volume of Dirk Bogarde’s autobiography. Incidentally, Elizabeth informs me that these first editions fetch up to £150 each on various internet sites.
This volume deals with the author’s work with various international directors and his blossoming as a writer.
Elizabeth and Jacqueline left after lunch to collect Mum from hospital and settle her in at home. Jacqueline is to stay overnight with her.
Meanwhile, Jackie and I went for a drive.
 

We stopped at Sandy Down to admire the splendid autumn reds and golds.

The silhouetted confetti descending from the skies was revealed to be rapidly falling leaves.

 St Andrew’s Church at Tiptoe, still ensures that we will not forget those who died fighting for our future in the First World War.

Some time ago, Jackie had stumbled upon Tutton’s Well at Sanpit whilst surfing the net for something else. She drove me there as a surprise. The tablet photograph tells the story of this historic phenomenon. It seems too much of a coincidence that a nearby village is called Purewell, but I cannot trace a connection.

We then visited Mudeford Quay and Harbour where a perching gull secured an excellent viewpoint from which to observe boisterous waves buffeting bobbing buoys.

Other gulls flanked skeins of geese honking overhead

Moody skies permitted the sun an occasional appearance.

Shortly after sundown pink seas reflected rosy clouds above.

Elizabeth arrived home soon after we did. She brought positive news about Mum’s immediate comfortable return to her familiar surroundings.
This evening we dine on Jackie’s excellent beef pie with deliciously meaty gravy; new potatoes; crisp cauliflower, carrots and tender green beans. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden while Elizabeth and I drank Chateau Pinenc Minervois 2017.
 
 

A Generation Gap

FOR ENLARGEMENT, CLICK ON IMAGES. THIS CAN BE REPEATED
I expected to run out of data this morning, so simply scanned a handful of photographs from the Little Venice Canal Cavalcade of May 2009. This is an annual event taking place in the canal basin within sight of Beauchamp Lodge, where I rented my counselling room.

This couple of women I found intriguing. The older lady carefully concentrating, swathed in black robes, a ring on her wedding finger; the younger in colourful T-shirt and skirt, wrists sporting a variety of bangles, a ring on her thumb. It was the younger person whose face was concealed from my view. Was this a generation gap? Were they related? How did they respond to each other’s appearance?

The two sides of the bank are spanned by an arched blue bridge, under which I have run many a time on a trip of several miles into west London along the towpath and back. Narrowboats are crammed into all the available mooring space.

The level bridge spans Warwick Crescent. Teeming crowds line both sides of the basin;

many souvenirs are on sale; someone has been busy with helium.

As they do at the nearby Notting Hill Carnival in August, drafted police officers enter into the spirit of the event as the Waterways Recovery service give them a ride.

For good measure I have added a Streets of London image of Powis Square W11 which had found its way into the same box of slides. This street is one of those accommodating the aforementioned Notting Hill Carnival.

I did, of course, run out of data, and am posting this in The Royal Oak. This is unfortunate because it means I have had to drink a pint of Razor Back. It would have been rude not to. I am now waiting to be joined by Jackie and Elizabeth for dinner here. Jacqueline will arrive a little later and stay for a couple of nights.