March 2022 – Page 3 – derrickjknight

A Knight’s Tale (116: A Ploughing Contest)

On the misty morning of 26th September 1992 I produced a set of photographs of a ploughing contest in Southwell in Nottinghamshire. I could not find the negatives, so I scanned the prints. These images were in such good condition that I had no adjustments to make.

Most of the contestants were very skilfully handling horse-drawn ploughs. The powerful animals were splendidly tacked.

Those tractors that were in operation were not as well-equipped as those of today.

The Abbey Life cart became stuck in the mud. Watching the efforts to free it, I thought it unfortunate that all the heavy horses were otherwise engaged.

Jessica, Michael & Heidi, Ploughing contest 26.9.92 013

Jessica, Michael, and Heidi could be seen in the sparse distant crowd, and nearer at hand.

Avian Antipodeans

Ian joined us after lunch when Jackie and I bought provisions from Ferndene Farm Shop, where I

photographed their displays of bedding plants and cut flowers.

We then took a drive into the forest where daffodils enhance many verges.

Jackie caught me in her wing mirror returning from photographing a bank of them off Ringwood Road.

She also photographed a pheasant inspecting a log, while I focussed upon a group of fidgety rheas.

Flo has spent some time during the last two days raking up branches felled by recent storms and

piling them up at the end of the back drive.

This evening we dined on Becky’s succulent roast chicken; technicolour carrots; firm broccoli and tasty gravy; with Jackie’s crisp roast potatoes. Mrs Knight and Mr Steele both drank Côtes de Provence Rosé 2020; Becky and I both drank La Orphic Monastrell 2020.

From Wilverley Plain To Rhinefield Road

After a morning’s further catching up with ourselves and reminiscing, Becky and Flo spent much of the day registering for NHS and banking services; shopping; and various other administrative matters.

This afternoon Jackie drove me into the forest.

I wandered among ponies on Wilverley Plain, where a group of potential surfers failed to keep a kite in the air.

Outside Brockenhurst Jackie parked at the corner of Forest Park Road while I wandered among ponies in the woodland alongside, which was littered with

timber from broken trees in various stages of decomposition littering forest floor.

When we prepared to move on a number of the ponies crossed the road to disrupt the traffic and to impede our departure.

Our last stop was the Blackwater Car Park, from which I wandered among the woodland and photographed rippling reflections on the stream flowing under the bridge.

This evening we dined on second helpings of yesterday’s sausages in red wine with fresh vegetables; Jackie and I drank the same beverages as last night; Flo drank fruit juice; Becky abstained.

A Dream Of Horrible Faces

Jackie and I spent the morning reminiscing with Becky while her daughter caught up with jet-lagged sleep.

After lunch I printed out a 15 page application form for Flo’s registration with our GP.

I then sent Paul Clarke larger images of Margery from our recent exchange. The first photograph was taken by Rachel Adams for the Southampton Echo.

I then read more of ‘Bleak House’ and scanned four more of Charles Keeping’s excellent illustrations to my Folio Society edition.

‘There he sits, munching and gnawing’ makes a text sandwich.

‘The waitress returns bearing a pile of plates’

‘Mr and Mrs Smallweed while away the rosy hours’

A double page spread is employed for ‘The crowd hovers round, like a dream of horrible faces’

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s succulent sausages in red wine; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy carrots; and firm Brussels sprouts. Becky peeled the spuds and leant an elbow to the mashing. The Culinary Queen and I repeated yesterday’s beverages; the others abstained.

Buying A Tablet

This morning I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2022/03/12/a-knights-tale-115-why-i-no-longer-drive/

This afternoon Becky, Flo, and I visited Currys at Christchurch for Becky to buy her daughter a tablet.

Once the choice had been made and the two ladies needed to wait for the sale and paperwork to be completed I wandered out into the car park with my camera.

First I photographed the bright gorse bushes planted around the industrial estate, with the ubiquitous discarded face mask.

I then focussed on the posts and shadows in front of the store,

and the car body reflections.

We then drove on to Highcliffe Castle for refreshments. While Becky was

parking the car Flo and I looked down at the sea through trees casting long shadows.

Unfortunately the kitchen had closed and the establishment would only be open for another twenty minutes during which we could take drinks outside. Becky insisted on our staying inside because it was so cold outside. The only food available was a packet of crisps and the last piece of cake. I am not sure what the woman or her Basset Hound who followed my daughter and granddaughter into the tea rooms were able to obtain.

This evening we dined on second helpings of yesterday’s Red Chilli Takeaway with the same beverages.

A Knight’s Tale (115: Why I No Longer Drive)

Early in the 1990s I visited a good cafe in Islington for lunch on my way to my consultancy at the now closed adoption society, Parents for Children. Deep in The Times crossword, I was vaguely aware of a male figure taking a seat at a table adjacent to mine. I was completely unaware of his departure a very short time afterwards. Reaching for my brief case which I had placed on the floor beside me, I was completely unaware of that too. It was gone. After I had looked all around me, it gradually dawned on me that it had been nicked. It was the proprietor who told me of the man’s rapid departure.

Concerned about the preservation of my suit jacket, I had done what no sensible person ever does. I kept everything in that brief case: my wallet, cheque book, mobile phone, books, favourite pipe, lighter, and just about everything else except my biro and copy of The Times. I couldn’t phone to cancel the cards. I couldn’t pay for the meal. Fortunately the cafe staff helped me out with coins for a wall phone and would not accept even a contribution for the food. I did, of course, return the money soon afterwards. I reported the theft at Islington police station, knowing full well I would not see my belongings again. The system, however, is that you must waste your and police time to provide a crime number for the insurance company.

One item in the wallet had been my driving licence. I duly collected a form for a replacement from Newark post office, filled it in, wrote out the cheque and stuck it in my ‘to do’ tray. This was because I needed a photograph for the new style licence to replace my old paper one which had needed no picture.

Several years later I came across this paperwork and managed to get a couple of photographs out of a machine, this being no mean feat in itself. Of course, by then the £2.50 or so cheque I had written probably wouldn’t have been sufficient. So I put it all back in the tray for several more years, whilst I got around to checking. It could be there still.

This passport photograph was produced twenty years later.

Not driving was really no problem during the years I was commuting to London. I used public transport all week and Jessica drove at the weekends. This is because I didn’t mind who drove, and she couldn’t bear not to. It seemed quite a satisfactory arrangement. After her death and my return to live in Central London a car would have been a liability. Even running across London was quicker than driving. Finding somewhere to park was a nightmare, and paying for it exorbitant. The congestion charge was soon to be introduced. And, of course, with a London address, I was given a senior citizen’s Freedom Pass which meant public transport within all six London Transport zones was free of charge. And you could get quite a lot of cab journeys for the cost of running a car.

Where we are living now a car is pretty well essential. But now I have a beautiful chauffeuse who has her own car.

A Return To England

This morning I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2022/03/11/a-knights-tale-114-adoption-panels/

Our Granddaughter Florence and her American husband, Dillon, are in the process of moving back to England. Florence arrived at Heathrow this morning. Ian and Becky collected her at Heathrow. Becky then drove her here where she will stay until they find a new home; Dillon will join her as soon as he has fixed up and sold their house in Kentucky.

Despite missing Dillon we enjoyed an afternoon’s delighted and delightful reminiscing, and look forward to catching up with him.

This evening we dined on Red Chilli excellent takeaway fare. Paneer Tikka and Onion Bhaji were the starters; main courses were Chicken Korma, Chicken Saag, and Tandoori King Prawn Naga; we shared pilau and egg fried rice. I drank Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2020 and Jackie drank Hoegaarden. The others abstained.

A Knight’s Tale (114: Adoption Panels)

In https://derrickjknight.com/2021/10/14/a-knights-tale-50-adoption/ I have written earlier about the early stumbling into professional assessment of adoption applicants.

The Adoption Act of 1958 which came into force the following year, was the first of a series over the next few decades that sought to improve regulatory requirements for adopters, requirements for adoption agencies and the procedure to be used when making or appealing a court decision on adoption. Whilst these developments have undoubtedly been necessary, in practice the placement of babies and toddlers has in many cases been delayed.

The Adoption Panel has an overriding responsibility to promote good practice, consistency of approach and fairness in all aspects of the adoption service, in accordance with its procedures and values. Within the remit of the panel’s recommendations are the suitability of prospective adoptive applicants to adopt; whether a particular child is suitable to be placed for adoption; and whether that child should be placed with particular prospective adopters.

By the mid-1990s and beyond I chaired adoption panels for the Voluntary Agency Parents for Children and for the London Borough of Camden; and the Fostering Panel of the same London Borough.

This welcome Paper Weight was given to me by the voluntary agency upon my resignation.

Panel members were expected to study the paperwork involved, which would include recommendations of the Medical Officer, and full assessment reports from the Social Workers. The various members had different experiences of the work and differing ideas about suitable parenting. There was generally a Council Member of the local authority included. As such my extensive experience of child care and of group work in general was invaluable in managing the discussions. One issue which could prove problematic was individual’s attitudes towards religion. Some people would be reluctant to approve applicants adhering to particular faiths, being wary of fundamentalism. Even in those earlier days smokers would be frowned upon. Changes of names of children was often open to discussion. It was considered more acceptable to retain the birth parent’s choice, especially for a middle name. On the whole, however, those who voluntarily gave up their time to this work were honourable and dedicated.

On Tarmac And Moorland

This morning we worked on completing our preparation of guest bedrooms for reasons which will become clear tomorrow.

After lunch we took a forest drive.

Having seen a very large foal being suckled in a field on Jordans Lane I stepped out of the car and sank into autumn leaves in a dry ditch, by which time the ponies had and diverted their attention to me. I was then

distracted by raucous rooks cawing from above.

Further along the road donkeys in the process of shedding their winter coats wandered among the traffic or hugged the verges.

Cattle and ponies shared the moorland off Bull Hill.

Ponies dined by the roadside, spilling onto the tarmac of East Boldre;

walkers led by a dog carrying a branch approached from the distance;

while another equine tore at juicy grass piercing the surface of a puddle.

This evening we dined on pepperoni pizza, hot and spicy prawns, and fresh salad with which I finished the Bierzo.

Beachern Wood

If we overlook the fact that, because she was feeling so much better, Jackie probably did do too much today we would think we really were back to normal. First we shopped at Tesco and this time it was Mrs Knight who did the shopping while I sat in the car with my book, loaded the goods into the car and unloaded them into the the kitchen when we returned home.

This afternoon my Chauffeuse took us for a drive to Beachern Wood and back. She sat in the car with her puzzle book and I wandered about.