while Nick Hayter continued decorating our kitchen after Barry had repaired the leaking roof, I watched the fourth day’s play of the Test match between India and England at Chennai broadcast on Channel 4.
This afternoon we drove to Grove Pharmacy at Christchurch Hospital for Jackie’s first Covid-19 vaccination. Her procedure was even quicker and smoother than mine.
We took a short diversion through the forest on our way home. With the temperature having plummeted to 0 degrees centigrade we experienced very fine snow throughout our trip.
Just outside Burley the moorland pools were iced over and bearing locked in branches.
The one shaggy haired, muddy legged foraging pony we encountered seemed oblivious of the falling fine floury precipitation.
Deer on Burley Manor lawn hugged the fenced boundaries, maybe seeking shelter from the hedges beyond.
Our next stops were at Otter and Everton Garden Centres where we bought a solar lamp and a shepherd’s crook on which to hang it for Elizabeth whose birthday it is today. We delivered them and stuck them in her lawn.
We have noticed a new phenomenon, one example of which Jackie photographed alongside Jordan’s Lane. It seems that cars are throwing up spray from the pools on the tarmac which have frozen in the process of dripping.
This evening we dined on oven fish and chips, baked beans, pickled onions, and gherkins, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Languedoc Montpeyroux Recital 2018.
Here is the post I didn’t have time for yesterday, featuring the Six Nations rugby match between Wales and Ireland.
The primary aim of a game of rugby is to score as many tries as possible by
grounding the ball on the opposite side of the opponents’ goal line.
The try notches up 5 points. Afterwards the best place kicker has the opportunity to convert this to 7 by kicking the ball over the bar and between the goal posts.
The referee, in the white shirt is there to ensure fair play, to interpret the rules, and to make decisions about points scoring.
We now, with the benefit of technology, have the Television Match Official who, having access to replays, has the task, at his request, of aiding the on field referee.
The grounding must be controlled and the feet inside the touchline. The score above was legitimate.
The ball carrier may be tackled by an opposition player. There are strict rules about the execution of this.
One of the consequences of an infringement is the set scrum. This is where two packs of forwards, each weighing in total 850/950 kilos, shove against each other to gain mastery and possession of the ball which is tossed into the middle by the scrum half, seen in green in the first picture, and red in the second. This can eat up 5 minutes of playing time.
Loose scrums. rucks, and, mauls result in less choreographed tussles.
These pieces, with or without the intervention of the referee, are followed by a lining up of the three quarter backs, one of whom will pass the ball along while the opposition attempt to dispossess them. It was this passing process that in 1965 prompted my late brother Chris, accompanying Jackie on her first time of watching me play, to utter the memorable one line explanation; “You have to get the ball over that line by throwing it backwards.” Although players may kick the ball ahead, a forward pass is not allowed.
Medical assistance is essentially on hand. This player struggled on fo a while before having to leave the field.
This one, captain Jonathon Sexton, had no choice. Despite his reluctance he had to go off for a compulsory Head Injury Assessment.
Earlier, he was the first of the faces I pictured in this gallery. His opposing captain, facing him, sporting a black eye, has plaster on his ear.
The masked supporters could not show theirs.
This scene reminded me of the season in which I lost three contact lenses in a fortnight. I then gave them up on the grounds that there is a limit to the number of times one can have 30 men in rugby kit crawling around in the mud in search of them.
I spent the morning watching the Channel 4 coverage of third day of the current Test Match between India and England in Chenai; and the afternoon watching BBC’s broadcast of the Six Nations rugby match between Wales and Ireland in Cardiff. The Indian weather was hot and humid; the Welsh much cooler. Covid has prevented any spectators except for match officials. In Chenai no-one wore masks; in Cardiff they did.
My photographs were all taken from the TV screen. I cropped all images for two reasons, namely to produce the pictures I wanted and to remove broadcast spoiler score information.
There are now many different forms of international cricket requiring different time spans and consequent paces of the game. Traditional Test Cricket ebbs and flows with changes of fortune over five days.
Bowlers bowl to batsmen; one batter receives the ball, the other stands at the bowler’s end ready to run to the other end, crossing with his partner to score one or more runs. The bowler aims to hit the stumps behind the batsman. The umpire in the white coat and hat is there to make decisions about dismissals.
Wicket keepers are equipped with special protective gloves, pads for their legs, and helmets for their faces. Slip fielders beside him have no such protection.
The essence of spin bowling is that the aim is to make the ball change trajectory after hitting the pitch. Throughout the Indian sub-continent the conditions are conducive to this method. Here Jack Leach has bowled ball seen about to land in the first picture; sends up a reddish dust cloud and takes a path behind the batsman’s front leg in the next; eventually ending up in the wicket keeper’s gloves. Had this hit the bat on the way through the man would have been out.
Batting technique is very important.
There are other ways than being bowled (when the stumps are hit by the ball) of being out or losing your wicket. If the ball is caught by a fielder without first hitting the ground the batsman is out, caught.
This is a quite phenomenally athletic dismissal close to the wicket.
Had this one been held out in the deep field it would have been equally spectacular.
When appealing to the umpire to grant a dismissal, arms are uplifted with a cry of ‘Owzat’, or, as is the modern way shrieks and gesticulations.
We now have a third umpire equipped with the technology to check the on- field umpire’s decision.
Either the fielding captain or the batsman may ask for a review.
This offers the opportunity for waiting in anguish, for adjusting helmets, discussing tactics, or tightening boot studs.
Here are views which aid the third umpire’s deliberations. The second picture tracks the anticipated path of the ball in order to estimate whether it would have hit the stumps.
Batsmens’ team mates watch keenly from the otherwise empty stands.
As the evening gradually draws to a close, long shadows have a game of their own.
I have become so carried away with trying to explain some of the aspects of our summer game that I have no time to do the same for the rugby. This will follow tomorrow.
This evening we dined on thick bacon chunks, flavoursome pork chipolatas, piquant cauliflower cheese, chestnut mushrooms, creamy mashed potatoes, crunchy carrots and tender cabbage. The Culinary Queen finished the Sauvignon Blanc and I finished the Macon.
This morning I watched most of the second day’s play of the current cricket Test Match between England and Indian Channel 4. During the afternoon and early evening it was the turn of ITV’s coverage of the Six Nations rugby internationals between Italy and France; and between England and Scotland.
I am so grateful to my blogging friend Tootlepedal for tactfully pointing out an error in yesterday’s original title by letting me know that he could not find any primroses that it seemed the decent thing to do would be to nip out into the garden between sporting binges and
find some to redress the lack. They are a bit manky, but at least they are survivors.
After the rugby I scanned three more of Charles Keeping’s illustrations to ‘Little Dorrit’
‘Gowan seized the dog with both hands by the collar’.
The different natures of the two sisters were clearly pictured by the artist in ‘Fanny was so very much amused by the misgivings, that she took up her favourite fan’.
‘The Dowager Mrs Gowan drove up, in the Hampton Court equipage’.
This evening we dined on succulent baked bacon; piquant cauliflower cheese; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy carrots, and tender cabbage, with which Jackie drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc and I drank more of the Macon.
Before Jackie discovered that, for the first time in 15 years, we can now view Test Matches live on free to air terrestrial television I listened to the first day of the England v India match on BBC sport. I watched the last couple of overs on Channel 4.
This morning I took advantage of a break between showers to wander round the garden with my camera.
The irises reticulata are all now in bloom, with tulips beside them pushing up.
Other irises and numerous hellebores still collect raindrops.
Camellias are quite prolific.
Honesty seed pods now have a skeletal presence and the metal plant Louisa gave us for Christmas will live on for a while.
Some winter flowering clematis cirrhosa Freckles have survived their recent heavy pruning.
Wherever we go we encounter a plethora of snowdrops.
This afternoon we paid a brief visit to Barry and Karen to deliver his prints.
Afterwards we took a brief drive along the lanes, like Coombe Lane largely waterlogged.
Sunlight streamed across the landscapes, lit the lichen coated hedges, and silhouetted the bones of an oak tree.
A small shaggy haired pony eyed me as I photographed its more delicate be-rugged cousin.
Jackie photographed a pair of rooks – or were they crows? – conducting a corvine conversation.
Several donkeys were installed on Wooden House Lane.
The stream running under Church Lane reflected the trees above.
This evening we dined on the varied flavours of Jackie’s piquant cauliflower cheese; creamy mashed potatoes; smoked haddock; with carrots and petits pois for splashes of bright colour. We both drank Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc 2020.
On another wet afternoon we drove to Lymington for printer inks and to Milford on Sea pharmacy and Co-op, diverting to Keyhaven on our way home.
Saltgrass Lane was well waterlogged, even though the tide was not yet high enough for its closure.
Walkers, dogs, and vehicles were silhouetted on the spit against dramatic skies.
Sedate swans, occasionally dipping their benthic burrowing beaks, sailed along the water’s surface.
Skeins of geese honked overhead;
turnstones rested on rocks while
Jackie photographed me photographing them, as the rising tide lapped around them
Nearby she also spotted a thrush (identified by quercuscommunity’s comment below as more likely a rock pipit), curlews, geese, and an oystercatcher.
A hardy human pair spent some considerable time immersed up to their necks in the water, arousing the interest of a pair of swans when they changed into their dry clothes. The last picture is Jackie’s.
This evening we dined on tasty Welsh rarebit, Jackie’s choice chicken and vegetable stewp, and fresh crusty bread, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Macon.
After another wet morning I made a set of A4 prints of his last session on our roof for Barry, then scanned the next five of Charles Keeping’s illustrations to ‘Little Dorrit’.
In ‘The cloudy line of mules hastily tied to rings in the wall’, our vision is certainly clouded.
With ‘He found a lady of a quality superior to his highest expectations’, both author and artist have the tongues firmly in their cheeks.
‘As they wound down the rugged way, she more than once looked round’, depicts the slender limbs of these beasts of burden. The circle of the sun balances the picture nicely.
There is a wealth of period detail in ‘I write to you from my own room at Venice’.
‘To the winds with the family credit!’, cried the old man’, displaying far more animation than we have seen before.
Later this afternoon the weather brightened and we took a drive to Longslade Bottom, a favourite venue for
walkers and frolicking dogs.
The stream at the bottom of the slope is a Winterbourne – only flowing in winter.
Keep an eye on the young woman with two children beginning to make her way back up the slope.
Ponies quietly crop grass and crows noisily gather in the treetops.
As I ambled down the slope, who should I pass but the woman, now struggling with the two children, who still managed to find the energy to respond to my greeting.
Can anyone spot the changes in the writhing burdens?
Having reached their vehicle the battle to install the children inside it continued against a threatening sky to the shrieks of “I don’t want to”.
Particularly having watched so many children and dogs on these slopes, I must mention that the piles of canine excrement which I needed to avoid rivalled those of the ponies. Do the dog owners have any idea of the danger that what they leave to fester among the grass presents to children? (Anyone who doubts this should read John Knifton’s comment below).
This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty chicken and vegetable stewp, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Macon vin de Bourgogne 2019.
On a decidedly dank morning we took a damp drive to Ferndene Farm Shop via Otter and Everton Garden Centres. We didn’t find what we were looking for in the garden centres, but the Ferndene shop was well stocked and not crowded.
We returned home via Holmsley and Forest Road.
Although there were a number of walkers on Forest Road,
where Jackie parked the Modus while I wandered woodland with my camera,
just three sheltering ponies beside Burley Golf Course seemed to be only ponies we would see.
I squelched across the muddy terrain
with its fresh, reflecting, pools;
bright green moss- and lighter coloured lichen-covered woodland, smelling of delicious damp.
It must have been a long-necked creature that nibbled this zipper up a slender trunk;
possibly a relative of this pony that emerged from the forest and crossed the road in front of as we moved off. Naturally I had to disembark once more and pay my respects.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s flavoursome savoury rice; a thick omelette; and a rack of pork spare ribs marinaded in plum sauce, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Bonpas.
On another gloomy wet morning Jackie photographed a selection of our current garden blooms, some decorated with pearls of rainwater.
Here we have sarcocca Hoskeriana, cyclamen, daffodil, iris reticulata Katharine Hodgkin, snowdrops, hellebore, camellia, daphne odorata marginata, and crocus.
Barry, of New Forest Chimney Sweeping & Repairs, then visited to extend the
downpipe across the kitchen extension roof to the guttering.
With our friend reflected in the Velux window he and I enjoyed a very pleasant conversation.
Five chapters further on in ‘Little Dorrit’ prompts a scan of five more of Charles Keeping’s illustrations to this novel of Charles Dickens.
‘Mr Pancks requested Mr Rugg to take a good strong turn at the handle’ of the street pump, which were common sources of water for residents in the mid-nineteenth century. https://johnsnow.matrix.msu.edu/work.php?id=15-78-80 carries a long entry on “The Broad Street Pump: An episode in the cholera epidemic of 1854”.
in ‘My dear soul, you are my only comfort’, we recognise the earlier profile of the magnificent Mrs Merdle.
‘The three expensive Miss Tite Barnacles’ are somewhat less than delightful.
The jubilation of ‘The Collegians cheered him very heartily’ has the artist throwing his hats through the text.
‘The little procession moved slowly through the gate’ demanded the span of a two page spread. No doubt readers will recognise earlier acquaintances.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s savoury pilau rice topped with a five egg omelette served with both tempura and hot and spicy prawns with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Réserve de Bonpas.
