Month: October 2019

“One For The Ladies”

On this wet and windy morning James Peacock visited and completed the setting up of my new SureColor P600 printer. The process took an hour, and there is no way I could have done it myself. One reason should suffice for explanation. The reason the printer could not be found by the computer was that it had been blocked by the iMac’s security system. This was easy to fix, but you had to know that would be the case. James was his usual friendly, efficient, self. We made a test print of the canoodlers on the tower from yesterday. The colours were perfect.

After lunch I watched a recording of the World Cup rugby match between Australia and Georgia.

Later, we drove to Avon Beach in search of surfers. We were not disappointed.

Here is Jackie’s view of the choppy waves approaching the beach.

The car park was full of these water sports enthusiasts preparing to enter the fray or

packing up to leave.

 

This little stretch of the Solent rivalled the congestion of the final approach to summit of Everest as sailboarders, kite surfers, and fishing boats took to the waves.

Some found themselves in the water;

others engaged in gymnastics, either soaring into the air,

or skimming over the surface.

Sailboards, kites, and other equipment were deposited on the sand,

and carried to and fro along the beach

Sometimes I watched sailboarders in action

 

 then carrying their steeds inland.

I watched a pair of sailboarders preparing to take to the sea. So did Jackie, but she only

focussed on one “for the ladies”.

She also photographed me.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic cottage pie; piquant cauliflower cheese; tender runner beans; and crunchy carrots, with which I finished the Malbec.

Lovey Dovey

Last night I watched a recording of yesterday’s Rugby World Cup match between Wales and Fiji, and this afternoon that between Argentina and USA.

This morning we took a short drive into the forest.

The leaves of deciduous trees viewed before Sway Tower from South Sway Lane are just trying on autumnal tinges, and some of the field horses now wear their warming rugs in preparation for the colder nights which they have so far been spared.

Known as Peterson’s Folly this iconic edifice is situated on Flexford Lane, on the opposite side of which Judge Peterson built a trial of the building in order to demonstrate the construction capacity of concrete.

The prototype now appears to be a boarded up dovecote

visited by the odd pigeon,

one of which attracted the attention of its white cousin cruising up for

companionable canoodling.

Maybe the dove admiring itself in the conservatory window reflection was considering entering the fray.

While I watched the match Jackie helped Nugget to plant some bulbs.

“Where’s Nugget?” (35).

He allowed her to plant this row of festuca glauca in honour of Mick O’Neill and Bluegrass Parkway. 

This evening we dined on old gold smoked haddock; creamy mashed potatoes; piquant cauliflower cheese; crunchy bright orange carrots; and tender green runner beans with which Jackie drank Blue Moon and I drank more of the Malbec.

Rather More Than I Did

This morning a made some headway in loading inks for the Epson SureColor P600 printer

These are the instructions;

here is the box of the nine inks and the slots for positioning them;

this is the row of inserted inks.

 

When setting up yesterday I was asked to select my language, namely English. I did. Everything in the lit up information panel is now in another tongue. While the automatic 10 minute process was continuing, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t understand this. When I got to loading the paper I needed to follow instructions I couldn’t read.

I then tried to download the software. This was meant to be done by Wi Fi. This required the identity of my router and its password key. I entered those. I was then told the printer could not be found. There was an option to download with a USB. None was supplied.

Fortunately at this point I had to give up to receive Margery and Paul who visited for coffee. After this pleasant interlude, I enjoyed my lunch and watched the recorded World Cup rugby match between Scotland and Russia.

Jackie, in the meantime, had been happily planting with the usual interference from Nugget.

He eyes up every hole Jackie digs,

and pounces on it,

sometimes using the trowel as a springboard. This procedure usually means that Jackie sits with a plant in her hand for a good ten minutes until her little hindrance has stepped aside.

Now “Where’s Nugget?” (34).

Later this afternoon I had another attempt at downloading the printer software. It is no good. I need help.

After a heavy shower I walked around the garden to cool myself down and cheer myself up.

Raindrops were in evidence,

and the various beds sparkled – rather more than I did.

This evening we dined on Mr Pink’s fish and chips and Garner’s pickled onions with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Casilllero del Diablo reserva Malbec 2018.

 

It Seems To Be Working

Nugget darted under my feet this morning as I swept the beech nuts from the Rose Garden paving and the gravel paths,

 

 

and around Jackie when she continued planting.

Sometimes he took a bird’s eye view of proceedings.

Here Jackie demonstrates that she has some thyme to plant;

and here converses with her little familiar. “Where’s Nugget?” (33).

Hoping to accustom him to a robin feeder for the winter she has installed one in the cryptomeria, bearing just small tokens. It seems to be working.

Bees, like this one homing in on bright red salvia

and this plundering a pink pelargonium;

as well as butterflies such as this Painted Lady, continue to bask in our sunshine on such a day.

This afternoon I watched a recording of the Rugby World Cup match between South Africa and Canada.

Later, we took a short trip into the forest where, at Holmsley, bracken has really browned;

 

some leaves take on an autumnal hue, while others remain green;

grasses bent to the breeze;

the stream spanned by the eponymous Passage is filling up and flowing briskly;

trees were silhouetted on the sky line;

and a gatepost sporting a boot without which a child had departed pleaded for a rescue dog which had left home.

This evening we dined on prime pork loin steaks roasted with tomatoes and mushrooms; plentiful mushroom stroganoff; firm peas, and tender runner beans. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Brouilly.

 

“Help Me, Please, Becky”

This morning we collected my new Epson printer from Wessex Photographic in Lymington.  Luke was extremely helpful in helping me understand how to load the paper profiles for my preferred Ilford Galerie papers into the printer.

Knowing that whenever I take delivery of anything involving new technology I am likely to leave it in its box for a matter of days, if not weeks, before I can pluck up the courage to open it, Jackie kindly freed the equipment from its cardboard and polystyrene outer layers

leaving me with no choice but either to get on with the job or admit to being terrified. She laid the main appliance on the hall chair and other bits on other available surfaces.

 

So I began to attempt to study the project.

The first obstacle was the CD containing the software. What, you may well ask, is the problem with that? Well, you see, there is no slot for a CD in an iMac.

Ah, situation resolved, I thought, I have a CD player thingy that I can plug in with the aid of a USB lead. Simples, as a Meerkat would say.

Not so simple – I couldn’t get it to do anything.

I thought I had better read the basic paperwork. That is when I discovered that you don’t have to use a CD with a Mac. Apparently you have to ‘visit the [epson] website to install software and configure network settings’. But you must ‘not connect the USB cable until instructed to do so’. In case anyone is wondering, that dark stain on my jacket is Jackie’s shadow – I have not wet myself.

Next step, I thought, should be to disconnect my Canon printer and tidy up a bit to make room for

the new machine. I was required to remove all the internal protective packaging including the transport lock which took a bit of identifying from the

pictorial directions which were a marginal, minimal, improvement on the average flat pack instructions.

I managed to plug it in and turn it on. This required Jackie at one point to realise that ’tilt’ meant ‘raise’.

I decided to leave it there today, as the next step is loading the inks which look similar to the Canon process; and the one after that involves going onto the website for stuff to happen.

Now, I know you are having an anniversary celebration break, but on your return I may need to ask you to “help me, please, Becky”. On the other hand, I might work a miracle.

This evening we joined Elizabeth and friends Nicki and Andrew for an excellent carvery  meal in pleasant company at the Wallhampton Arms. The meats were turkey and pork with all the trimmings. Malbec, Beer, Shandy, and Amstel were imbibed.

 

Flying Gulls

Last night I watched the recorded rugby World Cup match between Japan and Samoa; this morning those between New Zealand and Namibia, and between France and Tonga.

I then photographed some examples of our

nasturtiums, blooming until the first frost;

our generous begonias;

our varied dahlias;

our honesty seed pod medallions;

our hardier clematises such as this Polish Spirit;

and our roving Japanese anemones.

Nugget busied himself with his war cries up aloft

Early this evening we drove to Mudeford to catch the sunset.

While the sun was still well above the horizon, the meeting of the two currents between the quay and the Isle of Wight through up violent spray;

gulls glided overhead,

or perched on gravel.

A trio of elegant swans slaked their thirst in the

rippling water of the harbour.

A silhouetted couple left their bench and paused to study their photographs.

Another gentleman stood alongside another seat as the skies glowed gold

then dipped into a pastel palette when a bank of low cloud screened the sun

 

 

from silhouetted flying seabirds.

Later this evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious lamb jalfrezi and savoury rice topped with an omelette. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Brouilly.

As Happy As A Pig In The Proverbial

Earlier today I watched recordings of the rugby World Cup matches between Australia and Uruguay and between England and Argentina.

After lunch we took a drive up to the north of the forest.

Pigs are free for the next six weeks or so to enjoy searching for acorns and other forest fruits, known as mast, that litter the roads and woods.

This sow led her troop along the verges of North Gorley. She was not averse to leading them across the road.

Sometimes a straggler, snuffling, snorting, and squeaking among the terrain, would wake up to the fact that the others had moved on, and take off like a porcine Exocet to catch up.

As one car speeded on, having passed the main group, one of these creatures darted from the undergrowth straight across its path. Fortunately I saw this coming and held up my hand in warning.

Horse chestnuts, known as conkers, are not, as far as I know, among the forest fruits favoured by the pigs. They were ignoring those that had fallen from a tree in someone’s garden.

Ponies foraging along the Gorley Road ignored

another group of small pigs on the road ahead.

For the first time we followed a No Through Road to Ogdens North. This took us along a somewhat pitted road through rugged landscape and terminating in a

gravelly stream,

in which were reflected leaves above.

Mushrooms in the grass,

and lingering lichen coating a rotting branch, lay on the soggy banks.

I thought it best for my sandalled feet not to cross the muddy footbridge.

As we left a pair of determined ponies steadily approached from the woods, to join

another grazing on the open ground.

This evening we dined on prawn fishcakes topped with sweet chilli sauce, Jackie’s superb savoury rice, and ratatouille so liberally containing chillis as to make them much more appealing to me than to the Culinary Queen, who drank Hoegaarden while I drank Patrick Chodot Brouilly 2017.

Shots For Scale

Jackie and Nugget continued planting and bed making this morning while I cleared up some of the debris. Our little robin has even begun to get under my feet. He has begun to think ahead and, knowing where we are likely to go, arrives there before us. He only has to see me scoop up a trug full of clippings and he will be awaiting my arrival at the compost heap.

The normal size bricks in this photograph indicate what a diminutive creature he is. With secateurs in hand Jackie needs to be careful not to amputate anything.

Now, “Where’s Nugget?” (32).

Jackie plonked these starlike allium seed heads for their decorative quality.

Elsewhere we have plenty of varieties of dahlia; yellow self-seeded bidens;

flaming sedums;

delicate fuchsias;

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

pretty petunias;

roses, such as magnificent Mama Mia,

pure white Winchester Cathedral,

and blousy Schoolgirl,

all still keeping company with planted urns in the Rose Garden.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vibrant splashes of colour enhance garden views such as this one across the lawn with its basket hanging from the eucalyptus, petunias in the chimney pot, and Japanese anemones on the far side;

the stepping stones across the Cryptomeria Bed with its Michaelmas daisies and clematis scaling the arch that spans the Phantom Path;

the Gazebo Path, again sporting a clematis in its third flush, hanging baskets, and more.

The Patio Bed gloried in the morning sunlight.

Before lunch we took a short drive into the east of the forest.

Autumn leaves clung to damp fungus.

on the verges of Lower Sandy Down where the Modus puts the width of the winding lane into perspective.

While a curious field horse looked on

I photographed the opposite landscape where freer equine cousins could be glimpsed in the distance.

Further on a woman walking her dog provided a further shot for scale.

This afternoon I watched the recording of the World Cup rugby match between South Africa and Italy.

This evening we dined on succulent pork chops; crisp roast potatoes, one sweet; crunchy carrots, and tender cabbage and runner beans, all flavoured by tasty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Fleurie.

 

We Were Also Present

Jackie drove me to Sears Barbers at Milford on Sea for Peter to cut my hair.

The clear, crisp, light eased the surface of the Solent and sharpened the Isle of Wight, The Needles, and the lighthouse.

Having watched the recorded World Cup rugby match between New Zealand and Canada, then the first quarter of the game between France and USA last night I watched the rest of the latter contest later this morning.

Danni has e-mailed a batch of photographs she took on her phone at Mum’s birthday lunch. While Jackie and I focussed on my mother, Ella used telepathy to let her G-Ma know that she fancied a battered prawn.

It is always good to be reminded with photographs, that Jackie and I were also present.

 

 

Earlier Danni captured the unwrapping moment,

 

and later she caught the Birthday candle before Mum, with the speed of a robin darting on his prey, blew it out so she could savour her sweet.

 

 

 

 

In producing this image of the four generational shot I display my distinct lack of competence with a phone camera. Sorry, ladies, I prefer to see what I am doing.

 

 

 

 

Nugget was in close attendance as Jackie continued clearing and planting this afternoon. She had the opportunity to introduce him to his potential winter quarters, “Where’s Nugget?” (32).

This afternoon I watched recordings of the matches between Georgia and Fiji, and between Ireland and Russia.

Dinner this evening consisted of succulent pork loin steaks; roast potatoes, some sweet, and chestnut mushrooms; with crisp cabbage, crunchy carrots, and tender runner beans. Tasty gravy completed the meal with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Fleurie.

97, Or Is It 98?

For lunch today we joined Mum, Elizabeth, Danni, and Ella at The Wheel Inn, where the attentive and friendly staff had laid on an excellent meal to celebrate our mother’s birthday. Apparently Mum had been asked this morning by a new member of staff at Woodpeckers Care Home how old she was. She got her sums wrong and said she was 98. When asked the year of her birth she said “1922”. The staff member displayed her mathematical ability by correcting “the birthday girl”, who was “disappointed” but amused. I quipped that she could not get to that 100 by losing a year.

We began with presents and cards. Elizabeth held our bouquet so Mum could enjoy an appreciative sniff. Because Mum’s sight is not very good Jackie had chosen a pop-up card that she could also feel.Elizabeth’s present was a wooden owl capable of being suspended from the ceiling.

It is worth noting that Jackie’s starter of prawn salad,

her main course of ham , egg, and chips, and her equally proportioned lemon drizzle and ice cream dessert were all OAP portions.

My starter was calamari, which was followed by

fish, chips, peas, and tartare sauce, also, without the sauce, tucked into by our mother for whom it is a favourite.

Ella sampled a beer mat first,

then moved onto a large, squeaky, broccoli floret.

Her G-Ma and her mother both chose tempura prawn starters to which we all discovered

Ella to be most partial.

Danni chose moules mariniere as her main course. Her daughter snaffled some of that, too.

Prawn risotto was Elizabeth’s choice of main meal. Creme brulé was her dessert.

Possibly because I had been forced to add one third of Mum’s fish and a modicum of her chips, I could not manage a dessert.

Her blackberry and apple crumble and ice cream that the kitchen staff brought in, topped by a candle, to the tune off “Happy Birthday”, was no trouble for “the Birthday girl” to wolf down. After she had rapidly blown out the candle so that she could get on with the important business in hand.

Mum drank orange juice; Jackie, Diet Coke; Elizabeth, a lager I can’t remember; while my beverage was Ringwood’s Best.

I require no more sustenance this evening so I’m going to watch some rugby.