Month: April 2019

Lunchtime

Part of Mum’s deal at Woodpeckers Care home is that she can entertain guests to lunch once a week.

Elizabeth, Jackie, and I were her visitors today. My meal was Cajun chicken with Lyonnaise potatoes, carrots, and curly kale; the others opted for gammon. Mum chose stewed apricots with ice cream for dessert; the rest of us enjoyed plum crumble. We were served in our own quiet room. Service was friendly and efficient. The food was very good.

Afterwards, Jackie and I took a trip around the forest.

It is not unusual to see requests for information about hit and run accidents involving ponies. This, featuring a Shetland on the road to Beaulieu, was one of two we passed today.

Although much of it has been cut back by now, blackthorn has proliferated in the hedgerows for several weeks now.

As we rounded a bend on approaching East End we were struck by this fortuitous juxtaposition of maple and photinia.

Nearby one of a group of basking cattle suckled her calf which was enjoying its own lunchtime.

Donkeys were hard at work trimming the village’s hedgerows.

More cattle were serving themselves to lunch from the verges of Tanners Lane.

Beside Sowley Lane a flamboyant cock pheasant flashed across the road and fled beneath barbed wire fencing.

Another merged into hay stalks among scavenging crows beside a field of rape, many of which

are beginning to slash the landscape with sunlight.

More of the more colourful birds foraged in

this historic field with its

views across The Solent to the Isle of Wight.

This evening we dined on spicy Diablo pizza with plentiful fresh salad. Jackie drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc and I enjoyed Maipo Valley Carménere 2016 from the Majestic Definition range.

Stories

I spent this entire afternoon reading and listening to rain pattering on the windows.

Over several years some decades ago I was rash enough to collect Anthony Trollope’s entire oeuvre as presented by the Folio Society. It is the sheer volume of this work that prompts me to consider this enterprise rash. I doubt that I will ever finish reading all the books.

Like any other Victorian novelist in the age before blogging and television soaps, Trollope wrote at considerable length for the avid readers of his serialised instalments.

In order to try to catch up with my reading of this author, picked up again with a volume of stories, of a shorter length than the other books. I finished reading it today. This is

encased in

boards bound by cloth imprinted with this elegant design.

The contents are ‘The Parson’s Daughter of Oxney Colne; La Mere Bauche; Father Giles of Ballymoy; The Spotted Dog; and ‘Alice Dugdale’.

The apparently effortless prose flows along with excellent description, insightful characterisation, and well-placed dialogue. Trollope has a sound understanding of human nature and of his times. Without giving away any detail I can say that he deals will betrothal, match-making, scheming parents, gossip, and social standing. One apparent ghost story is ultimately humorous. Endings are not always happy, and there is one heart-rending tragedy. Most tales are set in England; there is one in France, and one in Ireland.

John Hampden’s well written introduction is informative about the author.

Regular readers will understand that I am enamoured of Joan Hassall’s careful wood engravings. Each story has a title page vignette; an introductory illustration; and, with one exception, a tailpiece.

Here they all are.

For our dinner this evening Jackie produced a fusion of her own savoury rice and succulent ratatouille; Tesco’s aromatic won ton and spring rolls; and Lidl’s lean meaty rack of ribs in barbecue sauce. The Culinary Queen drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc, and I finished the Garnacha.

The Magic Circle

Yesterday afternoon I was unable to find my camera lens cap. I searched everywhere, including the garden, to no avail.

This morning I spotted its outline in the hem of my dressing gown. I couldn’t fathom how it had got there, or how to extract it.

Slowly, it dawned on me. Two days ago I had photographed the garden whilst wearing the garment. Yesterday, similarly togged, I had spilt coffee all over myself. This had necessitated the Maintenance Department carrying out a magnificent laundering process.

Clearly I had pocketed the lens cap whilst using the camera in the garden. But it wasn’t in the pocket; and there was no apparent split in the hem –

not until I removed the garment and found a split beyond the neck.

The washing machine had behaved like a member of the Magic Circle and vigorously transported my magic circle.

On a warm and sunny afternoon we brunched at The Beach Hut Café at Friars Cliff.

A surprisingly speedy dredger sped off across Christchurch Bay in the direction of Mudeford.

The inevitable boy threw stones into the water;

a small girl stood by the shoreline contemplating getting her feet wet, took the plunge, and thought better of it;

another, having gingerly negotiated the stony beach, was relieved to feel sand beneath her toes;

others enjoyed digging;

or simply wandering about.

One group dried their clothes on a breakwater, while

a surfing lesson was underway;

and distant kayakers approached.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious spinach soup and fresh, crusty, bread. I would refer anyone who thinks that may not have been sufficiently substantial back to what we consumed for brunch. Mind you, Jackie did drink Wairau Cove Sauvignon Blanc 2017, while I enjoyed another glass of the Garnacha

The Pony And The Wagtail

This afternoon Jackie drove to Hockey’s Farm Shop at South Gorley. She kindly allowed me to accompany her so I could take some photographs.

As always we patiently waited for a pony to amble across the road as we approached North Gorley, where

a pair of mallards fished on the soggy terrain beside

the usual number of somnolent or grazing ponies.

One patient creature received the attentions of a darting wagtail. Not until the bird was out of shot did the gentle pony relieve itself of the weight of its head.

A pair of donkeys, one possibly pregnant, purposefully crossed the road before we moved on.

Towards South Gorley a grey pony drank from the stream.

We stopped at Deadman Hill beside Roger Penny Way, where I photographed some hazy landscapes.

When, once they had ascended the slope, I showed this couple how they had enhanced some of my pictures, they were very pleased. The woman said she now needed an oxygen tent.

Another young woman and her frisky spaniel also admired the landscape below.

Jackie did not miss the opportunity to photograph the photographer. She also caught him in conversation. Note the pony’s reflective collar hanging from the post in The Assistant Photographer’s first image.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty steak and mushroom pie; boiled potatoes, crunchy carrots and cauliflower, and tender cabbage. I drank more of the Garnache while Jackie drank sparkling water.

A Surprise To Come

Beginning with the cherry trees at the front, I focussed on the garden this morning.

A crafty sparrow uses this holly tree as a diversionary tactic en route to its nest around the corner.

Despite the efforts of cumbersome pigeons and pelting hailstones, the pale pink winter flowering example has bloomed constantly since September;

a smaller tree has added the tones of a deeper pink blossom;

and the soaring amanogawa is now attracting bees. Can you spot the seeker after nectar homing in on the first picture and having landed in the second?

Some of the camellia petals are taking on the brown hues of weathered old age.

Like this tulip they have reacted to the recent heavy rainfall. The tulip just curled up its nose;

others, such as these standing proud in the Palm Bed, remain unperturbed.

A yellow Japanese maple stretches towards the Gazebo Path.

The first deep red rhododendron buds are opening in the Dragon Bed,

which carries clusters of yellow lamiums.

Snake’s head fritillaries are proliferating in the West Bed;

others, beside the stepping stones crossing the Cryptomeria Bed, we thought had failed. In fact they were just a little later than their neighbours.

Daffodils and hellebores dance to the right of the stones.

While I photographed the fruits of her labours, Jackie puzzled over a surprise to come. Normally she labels her greenhouse seedlings and bulbs. Sometimes she forgets to do this.

Elizabeth visited this afternoon and stayed to dinner, which consisted of Jackie’s classic cottage pie; crunchy carrots, cauliflower, and tender green beans. Ian had brought a rather delicious bottle of Aguilla Chillando Garnacha 2017. I started on that, Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and Elizabeth drank Becks Blue.

A Soggy Forest

Becky and Ian returned home to Emsworth yesterday evening.

As forecast, the rain didn’t set in this morning until 11. We therefore set off for a drive at 10.

The sunken tarmac at the corner of Hordle and Sky End Lanes always fills up during heavy rain. It has recently been marked out for repair. Now the cones tilt in the reflecting water.

Weeds and grasses across the soggy terrain are swamped by rainwater and now feature winterbourne pools in which trees and shrubs are mirrored.

Most ponies are sheltering among the trees. Those intrepid enough to graze on the damp outskirts of villages like Brockenhurst are very bedraggled indeed.

A number of fords, like this one at Brockenhurst, are known by local residents as ‘The Splash’. A few minutes watching the traffic demonstrates the reason. Note the pedestrian footbridge and the amused onlooker.

Jackie’s succulent, spicy, ratatouille provided sublime moisture for this evening’s meal of fish pie, cheese centred fish cakes, mushroom risotto, boiled potatoes, carrots and cauliflower. She finished the Rosé and I finished the Lalande de Pomerol.

Raindrops

It was a shame that we were only due sunshine and lack of rain this morning, because I needed to be at home for the Openreach engineer engaged by BT. I won’t dwell on this, but, although the man turned up on time the problem is not resolved. It didn’t help that he hadn’t been told what Friday’s engineer had done and that he had been sent for an installation rather than a repair. Another technician is to attend tomorrow.

I did manage to wander round the garden before heavy rain set in for the afternoon.

We have numerous hellebores;

a prolific variety of camellias;

iris reticulatas;

and snowdrops coming into bloom throughout.

One of the occupants of the Dragon Bed cradles her egg;

another has recovered well after Aaron’s spinal surgery.

After lunch, with raindrops splattering on the roof of the car and slaloming down the windscreen, we took a drive into the forest.

The watery Black Lane, in the murk, lived up to its name.

Many of our roads are now irrigated by overflowing ditches and waterlogged fields.

Braggers Lane, with its

rippling reflective bubbling pools stretching alongside, is a good example.

 

Despite the banked verges, the fields are very generous with their excess water.

Woodland is a little meaner.

A group of horses, some wearing waterproof rugs, simply tolerated the downfall.

Further along, on Thatchers Lane, fallen. lichen-coated branches, recently at home on dry land, are reflected in their own pools. Drinks cans now bob beside them.

Long haired goats foraged in the grass alongside Fish Street. One inquisitive creature raised its head briefly before getting on with its late lunch.

Sheep sheltering on London Lane wondered why I was standing there getting wet.

At Avon thatchers seemed to have called it a day. It seemed a good idea, so we set off for home.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s nicely matured sausage casserole; crisp roast potatoes; firm Brussels sprouts; and tricolour carrots with which I finished the Malbec.

 

 

 

Holly’s Photographs

Sam, Holly, Malachi, and Orlaith set off this morning for North Wales where they will spend a holiday with Louisa, Errol, Jessica, and Imogen.

Holly sent me a batch of photographs she took with her mobile phone over the last few days. I believe the method of transmitting these remarkably clear images is called Airdrop. All I needed to do was work out how to load them into Photos and WordPress. I’m sure I made heavy weather of it.

I’m not sure where and when this portrait of Orlaith was made.

Despite appearances I really didn’t drift off to sleep in conversation with Sam at the meal at The Royal Oak.

Jackie retained ownership of her laptop for a brief period before the takeover by Malachi and Orlaith.

Orlaith got to use it on her own while Malachi gave his violin recital

to which I listened intently.

Malachi was more interested in what was on my camera screen than was his sister.

Having displayed impressive knowledge of Greek mythology during the Blockbusters game, my grandson was delighted with the Folio Society editions of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey to add to his Sherlock Holmes set. He has already read most of one of the Conan Doyle stories. Orlaith’s reading, spelling, and arithmetic ability enabled her to learn the game very quickly.

This afternoon Becky and Ian arrived to stay for a couple of nights. We dined at Lal Quilla. My choice of main meal was prawn Ceylon. We shared special fried rice, a plain paratha, and onion bahjis. Jackie, Ian, and I drank Kingfisher while Becky drank rosé wine. As usual the food was excellent and the service most friendly and efficient. Raj, the manager, was very happy to haul me out of my seat.

Generation Games

Sam came over early this afternoon and he and I had some excellent time alone over a drink in The Royal Oak.

He then collected his family from the caravan site and we spent a most enjoyable few hours picking up where we had left off yesterday.

Within seconds of their arrival Malachi and Orlaith had commandeered Jackie’s laptop. Orlaith took over while

Malachi gave us an impressive violin recital.

Jackie produced an early dinner for us all from her succulent steak and mushroom pie; boiled potatoes; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; with tender runner beans. The was fish pie for vegetarian, Holly, who

afterwards acted as quizmaster when

Orlaith and Malachi played Blockbuster with their Dad.

Holly and Sam enjoyed a moment’s relaxation before

Jackie took a family group photograph

followed by Holly’s photographs of me with the children

and with my son.

Word Games

Sam, Holly, Malachi, and Orlaith visited again this afternoon.

Observed by Holly, and assisted by Sam, Orlaith enjoyed a game of Scrabble with me.

Although we were playing with a proper board and tiles, when my granddaughter tired, she decided she wanted to pause the game. If that isn’t twenty first century speak, I don’t know what is.

Jackie and Malachi played word games on Jackie’s laptop.

After this Mal was invited to make a selection from my library. He chose a Folio Society Sherlock Holmes collection.

We then dined at The Royal Oak. Jackie and I each enjoyed gammon steak with two fried eggs, plentiful chips and salad. The others different choices were equally good. Holly and I both drank Malbec, Sam’s beverage was Guinness, Jackie’s Diet Coke, with lemonade for each of the children.