January 2022 – Page 4 – derrickjknight

Trowelling And Hawking

On another day on which rivulets slalomed among raindrops on window panes, Martin Paulley, master plasterer, completed his post- Kitchen Makers refurbishment work on our walls.

Having laid the foundation undercoat two days ago, Martin spent his time smoothing and cleaning the surfaces.

After mixing his plaster,

always keeping his tools clean,

he made two applications of the final coat by means of his

variously shaped trowels and hawk,

cleaning up the edges with water-loaded paintbrushes.

The hawk is a flat board with a short handle that can be held in one hand to carry the mixed material to the wall. The other hand is then used to apply this to the required surface, with the appropriate flat trowel.

Martin kept everything clean and tidy, although it appears that his photographer may have trodden in some plaster on a dust sheet and spread it about a bit.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s savoury rice topped with omelette, and tempura prawns with Sweet Chilli sauce. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden while I drank more of the Comté Tolosan Rouge.

Focus On The Windscreen

Nick Hayter visited this morning to assess the post-refurbishment decorating work he is to undertake. We enjoyed his usual pleasant conversation.

The unconsolable skies shed continuous profuse tears throughout the afternoon, which we began with a trip to the Lymington Post Office collection office to claim a parcel undelivered because of a shortage of £2 in postage. The good news was that there was no queue. The bad news was that the office was closed. I took an alternative option which was to stick the extra postage on the back of their card and post it back to them.

We then drove into the forest to make

a record picture of the lake at Pilley which is avidly collecting more liquid sustenance. I chose not to walk round to the other side for that view since I was already feeling a drip.

While waiting for a train at the Lymington level crossing I had plenty of time to focus on the windscreen.

Perhaps it is the intensity; perhaps the consistently fast pace; perhaps the comparative shortness; perhaps the bloodthirstiness of the historical context of Charles Dickens’s ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ that renders it apparently the most widely read of the master’s novels, in which there is no room for his customary dry wit, and little for his comic turns.

Later this afternoon I finished reading the work which becomes impossible to put down; and scanned the last four of Charles Keeping’s perfectly matched illustrations to my Folio Society 1985 edition.

‘ ‘Hope has quite departed from my breast’ ‘

‘He spoke with a helpless look straying all around’

‘Miss Pross seized her round the waist and held her tight’

‘She kisses his lips; he kisses hers’

This evening we dined on double egg and chips with sausages and baked beans, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Comté Tolosan Rouge.

Keeping Pulls No Punches

On a cold and drizzly day we did not mind having to stay in for Ronan of Tom Sutton Heating who came to service our boiler.

I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2022/01/06/a-knights-tale-89-sams-first-cut/

This afternoon I scanned the next four of Charles Keeping’s powerful illustrations to “A Tale of Two Cities” in which he pulls no punches.

‘Such awful workers and such awful work’

‘The executioner showed the people the head of the king’

‘ ‘Take off his head!’ cried the audience’

‘No sooner did he face her, than Miss Pross uttered a scream’

This evening we dined on succulent roast pork with crunchy crackling; apple sauce; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes; leaks, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower. carrots, and green beans. Jackie drank Diet Coke and I drank Chevalier Se Fauvert Comté Tolosan Rouge 2019.

A Knight’s Tale (89: Sam’s First Cut)

In September 1982 we shared a Gite with our friends Ann and Don in Brittany.

The group nearest the centre of this underpopulated beach at Bréhec include Jessica, Ann, and Sam.

a string of gleeful children danced their way to the ocean;

a lone woman passing them traversed the beach.

Hand in hand, Jessica and Ann led Sam into the water

and swung him to meet the wavelets.

Ann continued the gymnastics

while Jessica went for a paddle.

Sam dried off, and told his sister all about it.

On another occasion I watched a woman enjoying a paddle.

At our numerous barbecues Don was master of the coals.

It was at that time that Sam received his first cut. I still remember my sadness at my beautiful boy having suffered his first blemish. During Siesta time, when, of course, nothing was open, we came across a broken shop window. ‘Don’t’, said I, as our three-year old made a dive for the broken glass. Too late. He grabbed it and brought some away in the palm of his hand. Which I could not get him to open. Even if I could I would need a pair of tweezers. We found the duty chemist which was open. She had some tweezers. But how was I going to get Sam to expose his palm? She smartly provided the solution. Out came a bag of sweets. Our lad could not resist one. Poised, tweezers in hand, I knew I had, at best, one chance. Sam’s fingers spread tentacles and snaked out for the sweet. I swooped with the tweezers. The implement secured and withdrew the shard of glass. Sam ate his sweet and we bade the woman goodbye.

Ann bought an ice cream and provided a cuddle, and all was well.

One of the most memorable moments of this holiday was the return journey. Ann had decided she may have exceeded her tobacco allowance, so Jessica and I carried a quantity of our friend’s cigarettes in our car. We followed Ann and Don off the ferry. They waved as they drove off into the sunset. We were stopped and our yellow Renault was subjected to a full body search

Rippling Railings

Martin P spent the morning starting on the plastering left from our recent refurbishments. He will complete the job the day after tomorrow.

On another cold, bright, afternoon we took a trip to Ferndene Farm Shop to stock up on vegetables, then continued into the forest.

Jackie parked alongside the high point of Braggers Lane. I wandered up and down photographing

sunlit landscapes;

woodland;

and cattle.

A pair of donkeys grazed in a field beyond Sopley Mill, where

Jackie photographed me photographing the pattern of rippling railings reflected in the millstream.

She also focussed on the sunset viewed from the church of St Michael and all Angels, and on starlings perched on the weather vane atop the spire.

This evening we dined on succulent roast pork with crisp crackling; apple sauce; boiled baby new potatoes stir-fried with leeks; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; firm Brussels sprouts, and tasty gravy, Jackie drank Hoegaarden while I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

More Normal Weather For January

This morning I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2022/01/04/a-knights-tale-88-the-firing-squad/

Either side of lunch we cleared most of the various items blocking the areas that Martin P is to start plastering tomorrow.

Afterwards we drove to Fordingbridge to deliver a backpack left behind by Stephanie on Boxing Day. We took a leisurely route through the forest.

Ponies grazed on the soggy green at Ibsley, where a swollen pool reflected the trees above.

Similar reflections were mirrored by the stream below Gorley Common;

trees etched their gnarled limbs into the skies;

the less hardy field horses rugs contrasted with the forest ponies’ winter hair on this much colder and brighter day than we have seen for some time;

and we encountered several sightings of deer.

We sped off the main road from Fordingbridge to Ringwood in order to catch the sunset at Bickton, where gold and pink hues transformed the sky and reflected in the mill stream.

Jackie photographed a viburnum bush, the wake of ducks on the river, and refections of the sunset.

A Knight’s Tale (88: The Firing Squad)

It was most likely the holiday on which we discovered Villeneuvette that I began by facing the guns.

During her teens Jessica enjoyed numerous exchange holidays with a French family who will feature later; and after London University spent six months at the Sorbonne. As a result she was bilingual.

Which is what got me into trouble.

I’m a little hazy on the exact date on which we began our holiday in Montpelier, and how and why this was so. The event itself is more memorable.

My French is based on A Level qualification at school, and therefore not very practiced in conversation. In fact it is a miracle that I passed the oral exam. At that time it took me a few days to dare to open my mouth. Except when aroused, as I was on this day.

Jessica’s large shopping bag was stolen in the town square. Among other items, probably needed for Sam’s care, we lost all our cash and travellers’ cheques.

We visited the police station where we were sent from pillar to post – in different buildings. Naturally Jessica did all the talking. Eventually we were told to wait on a bench outside a room into and out of which streamed a steady flow of uniformed police.

We waited. And we waited. Until I blew a gasket.

Suddenly having mustered my best French I burst through the closed door and found myself looking into the barrels of a number of handguns. I had forgotten that these officers are armed.

But I had started so I finished. I demanded to know why we had been left unattended for so long.

“We thought your wife was French” was the answer. “What has that got to do with it?” I replied. My memory of the rest is purely visual. I do know they were not exactly pleased.

Needless to say, the bag was never recovered.

Murky Moorland

Becky and Ian returned home to Southbourne early this afternoon.

Later on this, another dreary, dismal, day Jackie and I took a brief forest drive just before the light finally failed a little after my camera battery had done so.

While recharging I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2022/01/03/a-knights-tale-87-villeneuvette/

With sunset – not that we would see it – three quarters of an hour away the moorland was decidedly murky

The blaze on one chestnut pony’s face made it somewhat more visible than others.

Naked branches linked against the skies across Burley Road, and a golfer must have known my battery was about to die.

This evening we dined on succulent roast lamb; fried and boiled potatoes; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; and meaty gravy with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2020.

A Knight’s Tale (87: Villeneuvette)

During a French holiday in September and October 1981. We shared a house in Cabrieres, Languedoc with Jessica’s friend, Sue Sproston. The house belonged to a colleague of Sue’s who was in the process of renovating it, but hadn’t been too bothered about fixing potential leaks in the roof. Trust us to experience the worst thunderstorm locals could remember.

Here, Jessica and Sam see me off on a trip for the obligatory croissants from the boulangerie.

I found the local gardens fascinating. Some were carefully tended;

others seemed to be spaces to park trucks

or trikes.

Here Sue joins Jessica and Sam in investigating the local lake.

It was clearly the time of the vendanges, or the grape harvest.

We drove around the area and visited a number of villages, like the beautifully kept St Guilhem,

and the almost abandoned Villeneuvette, where Sam sloshed in the fountain, not as elaborate as the one in the grapes picture.

Wikipedia has this to say about Colbert’s social and economic experiment:

‘Villeneuvette is a commune in the Hérault department in the Languedoc-Roussillon region in southern France.

It lies close to the town of Clermont l’Hérault.

Villeneuvette is a small village made up of a group of buildings initially erected in the 17th century to create a royal clothmaking factory and provide accommodation for its workers. Apart from a hotel and restaurant, the buildings are now restricted to residential use, many for holiday purposes.

Creation of Villeneuvette was promoted in 1677 by Jean-Baptiste Colbert the noted finance minister of King Louis XIV. It was one of his many initiatives to develop France’s industrial base. Power for the factory was hydraulic with water supplied via different water courses from existing basins. The factory was privately owned and produced cloth for the king including uniforms for his armies. The factory was in existence until 1955.

Since 1995 the village has been classified as a “Zone de Protection du Patrimoine et du Paysage” recognising the originality and importance of its heritage.

The original inscription above the gateway was “MANUFACTURE ROYALE” but was later rather crudely changed by the Republic to “HONNEUR AU TRAVAIL” – Honour in work.’

When we stumbled across the commune most dwellings were unoccupied, except for a few people who, to us, appeared to be squatters. We were able to amble around and marvel at the higgledy-piggledy nature of the accommodation, often with one family’s upper rooms above those of the residents below.

In 1982, J.K.J. Thomson published ‘Clermont-de-Lodève 1633-1789’. Since it contains an erudite history of Villeneuvette, I had to buy it. It was, in fact, far too academic for my taste, but I did struggle through it. Interestingly, the book jacket shows the changed inscription mentioned above.

I was, perhaps fifteen years later, rather pleased I had, when one of my consutation clients told me that a couple of her friends had bought one of the residences which were now being sold on the open market. I was able to describe what we had seen, and to hand over the book. I didn’t expect to see it again, but, it was eventually returned to me by the wife, who happened to be a committee member of another agency client. Even then, before we were all overtaken by the Web, it was a small world.

A Wet Bum

On another dull, yet warm, morning which had been very wet, Jackie and I took a short forest drive, returning home just before another deluge descended.

We travelled by way of Church Lane alongside which

horses and ponies occupied sodden fields. While photographing the ponies I ascended a sloping verge covered in a thick carpet of fallen leaves. Hidden by the foliage were thin bramble tendrils, one of which I tripped over and fell once more onto my right shoulder. As I sat wondering how I was going to stand up, three passers by helped me to my feet, one mentioning that he hoped I had no more than a wet bum. I exclaimed that I certainly had one of those.

So did the ponies, and those we saw later outside the Pilley Community Shop.

This afternoon Jacqueline and Elizabeth visited for coffee, Tunnock’s Tea Cakes, and reminiscing.

We had each attended the same primary school, albeit some years apart. Some of our teachers offered each of us the benefit of their services. It was perhaps natural that we should swap stories about these. Those readers who have not already read https://derrickjknight.com/2012/11/01/maureen-potter-and-plasticine/ may care to follow this link for some enlightenment. When, in describing Miss Flaxman’s treatment, I reached the phrase “on the backs of your legs”, Jacqueline said it for me.

This evening Jackie, Becky, Ian, and I enjoyed second helpings of yesterday’s Indian takeaway meal with which I drank more of the Merlot-Tannat and the others shared Pedro Jimenez Sauvignon Blanc 2021