April 2022 – Page 2 – derrickjknight

Time To Let The Cattle Loose

On a largely overcast yet dry day Jackie donated some property to one Charity Shop in Highcliffe before lunch and we both did the same with two small filing cabinets to the Oakhaven Hospice shop in the afternoon.

We then took a drive into the forest.

On the first green at Bramshaw a couple of donkeys shared their pasturage

with a sheep and two lambs.

I photographed Jackie’s attempt to catch me focussing on the most inquisitive of the donkeys which, when I left them for the sheep, stuck its head through Jackie’s window.

Further along the road was claimed by cattle including our old friends Splash and Blackie the Highland Bulls. Jackie produced the close-ups of these two fearsome beasts.

A solitary pony perched precariously on the slope of the verge.

Another bovine group trampling the woodland at Furzley reminded us that this is about the time that cattle who have been kept under shelter during the winter are generally released to roam.

This evening we dined on succulent fillet steaks; chips, roast tomatoes, and garden peas with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Bordeaux.

Predestination

After lunch I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2022/04/21/a-knights-tale-127-the-big-c/

Later I finished reading

The beautifully flowing descriptive writing in this short novel reveals the true calling of this precocious poet. The elegantly simple prose is packed with details of place, people, and events. There is no excessive padding. The introspective nature of the author is reflected in the emotional life of his main protagonist who is introduced in earlier sections, before we meet him through his diary. As usual I will not reveal details of the story, which involves insights into early 19th century Russian culture familiar to those of Lermontov’s class.

As always, the work of the translator was important. Reginald Merton seems to have caught the exquisite essence of the original in a language which I cannot read.

Peter Foster’s informative introduction puts the work and the author in the perspective of the times and the author’s literary contemporaries.

Dodie Masterman’s lithographs delicately suggest mood and atmosphere with use of muted colour and sparing detail. For example, the fifth picture in this gallery demonstrates that the encounter is not going too well.

I hope I am not giving anything away by saying that the design on the .front and back boards has reverberations both for the author and for his protagonists. Ultimately this book is an exploration of predestination.

This evening we dined at Lal Quilla, where my main meal was Chicken Jaljala; Jackie’s, Chom Chop Chicken; and Flo’s, Lamb Makhani; we shared pilau rice, sag paneer, and egg paratha. Jackie and I drank Kingfisher, and Flo, J2O. Food and service was as excellent as always.

On our way home Jackie photographed gulls at sunset from Milford on Sea.

A Knight’s Tale (127: The Big C)

Next, Sam displayed his boat, Pacific Pete, at Crick Boat Show in Northamptonshire. As a publicising exercise, my son sat on board and answered questions about what this was all about. One gentleman went to great lengths to obtain a good view; another seemed more interested in his lunch; was a third offering Sam a pint?

Back home in Newark, during the Dragon Boat Festival,

Louisa took a turn at fielding the questions. The gentleman seemed more engrossed than did his partner.

Sam’s friend Lewis Cove carried a bucket collecting donations for the Atlantic row, undertaken the following year.

Inspired by

Hokusai’s Great Wave, I designed the logo Lewis totes. The idea was a play on The Big Sea and The Big C, in aid of which Sam was rowing.

Spring Verges

Rain yesterday had prevented me from photographing Martin’s garden work.

First he completed the tidying of the Back Drive. When our neighbours put up a new section of the fence between us the hook retaining our five barred gate disappeared. Martin fitted a new one, straightened the last of the line of bricks, removed refuse from beyond the gate, and transplanted some geraniums to brighten the bank opposite the raised bed.

Next, he cut the grass, then

weeded the Phantom Path and the southern half of the Brick Path.

Early this morning Jackie and I took a brief drive along the lanes to the east of the forest,

where wild flowers pack the verges, like these on the lane approaching Portmore;

and on the narrow section of Jordans Lane,

featuring a hole for a gate cut into a conifer hedge, and a horse and hound weather vane.

After lunch Jackie finished planting violas to complete the aforementioned Raised Bed, which she photographed herself.

We still have many camellias, a Vulcan magnolia, and burgeoning rhododendrons.

This evening we dined on fillet steaks, oven chips, and peas, with which Jackie finished the Cabernet Sauvignon and I drank Bordeaux Supérieur 2019.

Rudolph

Martin spent the whole day working in the garden. Jackie and I left him to it later this afternoon, but I will need to photograph his results tomorrow, because soon after we came home from an afternoon’s drive heavy rain hammered down.

Before lunch Shelly visited for a coffee and catch up after Covid in both families. All is well now.

My camera today found plenty of subjects along Beachern Wood.

A solitary pony cropped the verges beside the car park where

a horse being led from its box attracted visitors’ attention.

Various ponies dotted the landscape as we approached

the waking woodland, walked by people of all ages.

Alpacas basked on a hill opposite the trees;

cyclists and riders ambled down the road;

ungainly gaited crows trotted around the banks of

the rippling Ober Water, which reflected the surrounding trees,

one of which still bore Christmas decorations.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s omelette-topped savoury rice served with three preparations of prawns, namely tempura, hot and spicy and salt and pepper with which the Culinary Queen and I drank Valle de Casablanca Sauvignon Blanc 2021, while Flo didn’t.

Becoming Tidier

Yesterday evening Flo had transferred one more wheelbarrow load of compost into the Rose Garden and another to the new raised bed at the end of the Back Drive.

This morning Jackie spread one heap on the newly planted bed,

and continued weeding the gravel path.

The borders are beginning to bloom nicely.

I began refilling the now empty compost bin.

Before lunch the Head Gardener distributed the last load of compost on the Rose Garden soil she had weeded yesterday.

The Heligan Path, weaving its way between the Cryptomeria and the Weeping Birch Beds; and the Phantom Path, separating the other side of the Cryptomeria and Margery’s Beds are looking tidier.

At the end of the morning I published https://derrickjknight.com/2022/04/18/a-knights-tale-126-a-nod-to-little-gidding/

Late this afternoon Elizabeth visited with forms from Barclays Bank re closure of Mum’s account which should have come to me. Somebody has got their wires crossed. She will need to telephone the bank’s bereavement team again to sort this out before we can close the account.

Since we don’t have enough of yesterday’s roast meal leftovers for a fourth person we were unable to ask her to join us. That is what we will be having, with the same beverages as we had then.

A Knight’s Tale (126: A Nod To Little Gidding)

The last leg of the Henley to Newark row/walk from Nottingham to Newark was 25 miles in length.

Sam in Pacific Pete on River Trent, cattle on bank

Sam set off without James, and I trailed in his wake. It is hard to believe that I managed to keep within sight of him as he rowed along the River Trent, but these photographs would seem to prove it. Perhaps the cattle would bear witness.

James, Gemma, and Louisa following Sam in Pacific Pete

As the rower moved into Farndon, James, Louisa, and Gemma set out to greet him and to follow him towards

Newark Castle, first passing the railway station;

to be greeted by his reception committee as he docked. Louisa, as requested, handed me two pints of beer – all for me.

Perhaps this was a lap of honour alongside the castle ruins. This 13th century castle was originally built for the Bishop of Lincoln. A Royalist stronghold during the English Civil War, ‘in 1646 the garrison surrendered, but only after a direct command from Charles I. Parliament ordered the castle destroyed so it could never be held against them again, but fate took a hand; plague broke out in Newark town, and the destruction of the castle was halted.’ This quotation is taken from http://www.britainexpress.com/attractions.htm?attraction=93 which contains a more complete history in very readable form.

So, what has all this to do with T.S. Eliot’s ‘Little Gidding’? From this, the last of the poet’s Four Quartets, I have borrowed

‘What we call the beginning is often the end

And to make an end is to make a beginning.

The end is where we start from………….

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time’.

Sam took delivery of his boat at Henley where he and James set about preparing and stocking it for the journey. Note the large bin behind my son as he crouches in the boat,

which I strapped on with the rather optimistic intention of collecting sponsorship money.

Sam, James, Pacific Pete setting off 7.03

Pacific Pete left the mooring,

and we were under way. This was to be the last sound footpath I trod for the next eleven days.

It was our friend Alison Tucker and her sister Rosemary who made these Henley prints and sent us on our way.

‘Bleak House’ Comes To The End

Last night I finished reading my Folio Society edition of ‘Bleak House’ By Charles Dickens.

First published in instalments from March 1852 to August 1853, this is a superb novel from a writer at the peak of his powers. As is my wont I will not provide details of the story which other readers may wish to discover for themselves, save to say that, through the interminable case of Jarndyce v. Jarndyce, it is a scathing attack on the Court of Chancery, but so much more besides. The scope and complexity of the author’s work reflects that of the legal system itself.

A host of brilliantly depicted characters thread their ways through the narrative in a more thoroughly composed manner than in any of his previous works. There is an abundance of Dickens’s wit and humour and both bucolic and sordid urban descriptions.

There is romance and mystery awaiting resolution at the end of the book, when, as usual, the concluding situations of the panoply of protagonists and supporting characters are strung together like neatly tied bundles of Chancery papers.

There are also desperately tragic lives hopelessly ruined by conditions of the day.

Christopher Hibbert’s introduction is as knowledgeable and informative as usual.

Before lunch I scanned the last four illustrations by the truly inimitable Charles Keeping.

In ‘ ‘I beg to lay the ouse, the business, and myself before Miss Summerson’ ‘ Keeping has suggested the gulf between the speaker and his audience both by the use of the space in the double spread, and by the expressions on the faces.

‘Even the clerks were laughing’ has its own story to tell.

‘The mausoleum in the park’ is suitably forbidding;

and ‘Bleak House’ Mark 2 quite the opposite.

Following Flo’s lead of transferring barrow loads of compost to the Rose Garden yesterday,

Jackie, who had cleaned out the water fountain, and I continued tidying the

said Garden, now featuring plentiful forget-me-nots and bluebells.

Later, Flo spread more compost on the Pond Bed.

(Yvonne, you need read no further)

This evening we dined on Jackie’s perfectly cooked roast lamb dinner; complete with crisp Yorkshire pudding, sage and onion stuffing, and roast potatoes, including the sweet variety; crunchy carrots, firm broccoli, and tender cabbage; all with meaty gravy. Rice pudding laced with strawberry jam was to follow. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2019.

Where’s Jackie? (11)

On another hot and sunny morning I produced a number of

garden views from above;

in the process a selection of Where’s Jackie? (11) for readers to find.

This afternoon I read more of Charles Dickens’s novel, Bleak House and scanned another five of the wide ranging illustrations by Charles Keeping.

‘On the step at the gate I saw a woman lying’ conveys the artist’s skill with buildings, graveyards, figures, and animals such as the rat, also giving perspective.

Attention to the writer’s detail is demonstrated by ‘Mr Vholes stood feeling the pimples on his face’

The effete ‘Mr Skimpole, lying on the sofa in his room, playing the flute a little’ is another worthy portrait’;

as is ‘The old man had shrunk down in his chair into a mere bundle’

Keeping is able to steep himself in the writer’s factories and waterways, as shown in ‘On the black canal bridge of a busy town’. A mere conversation is insufficient for him – he has to show it in context.

This evening Jackie and I dined on her spicy chicken jalfrezi with pilau rice; Flo enjoyed a boiled egg korma and plain boiled rice, with which she drank elderflower cordial; the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Shiraz.

Swarms Of Moths

This morning I stepped out in the very warm sunshine with my camera. In the front garden the crab apple blossoms and the first of the libertia are blooming; the Amanogawa cherry reaches above the eaves; and some of our cyclamen still flower.

The yellow and red tulips in the patio bed which have taken some time to open fully have stretched for the kiss of the sun; Erigeron clambers beside the kitchen door. The red Japanese maple shows its colour; all our camellias remain laden with blooms. Shadows fall across the paths; a glass robin’s breast glints in the light; the chair in the Weeping Birch bed awaits a visitor; all but the broken stem of the last year’s New Zealand flax stand proud against the blue sky; Florence sculpture looks back towards the house; aubretia spills over the rocks bordering the Gazebo Path.

Tulipa Lilac Wonder has yet to welcome the sun’s rays. Bumble bees lumber among the yellow lamium. The Waterboy offers liquid refreshment.

This afternoon could even be described as hot. The Lilac Wonders now opened wide, as did more varieties; bluebells proliferate; Autumn sculpture enjoys a little shade. The carved owl we bought on our recent visit to Hockey’s now stands at the feet of Florence sculpture.