July 2022 – derrickjknight

Wedding Album: Karen And Barry 15.7.22

This morning Karen and Barry visited to see the photograph albums we have been preparing for them. All I have left to do is to stick almost 200 photos in place. Although, in order to tell the story of the day, the final selection will be placed in clicked order,

the couple are more than happy for this fairly random set to be posted tonight, so that all their friends will be able to see them and get a taste of the full story of the day. As usual, clicking on any image will access the gallery which bears a title for each picture.

Late this afternoon I watched the UEFA Women’s Cup Final between England and Germany, after which we all enjoyed dinner consisting of tender roast chicken and Jackie’s omelette-topped savoury rice with which she finished the Pinot Grigio the completion of which I had assisted by knocking her first glass over; Dillon held tight to his Ribena; and I finished the Shiraz Cabernet without mishap.

A Splendid Market

Apart from a trip to Lymington Market, I spent most of the day completing the trimming of the photographs for insertion into the second wedding album for Karen and Barry.

We visited the market to allow Flo and Dillon to wander in their own time, while

I photographed some of the activity and Jackie waited in the St Barbe Museum café. As usual, access to the gallery will reveal individual titles.

On their return, our granddaughter and grandson by marriage put in a good gardening stint, including planting, clearing, and sweeping.

This evening we dined on racks of spare ribs in maple syrup sauce on a bed of Jackie’s savoury rice topped with a thick omelette, with which she drank more of the Pinot Grigio, Dillon drank water, and I drank more of the Shiraz Cabernet.

No More Than A Truce

This afternoon we drove Flo and Dillon to Burley where we left them to wander while we continued the drive and returned for them after 90 minutes.

We paused at Bashley where one foal lay flaked out while its mother cast her shadow while nibbling parched grass;

while another group took shelter beneath the oaks;

as did others along Forest Road. Note the bothersome flies,

more of which pestered cattle sharing shade with another pony and foal.

Two more greys stood beneath trees on Ringwood Road at the top of Crow

Hill, from which landscapes revealed an early brightness to the heather, and

ripening blackberries.

Hidden from below among the undergrowth is an historic milestone telling of a certain amount of optimism.

“Early in 1801 the British war against France under Napoleon as First Consul was not going well and the country was sick of it. When the Younger Pitt’s government fell in February, the new premier was Henry Addington, who was bent on peace and an end to entanglements on the Continent. As he wrote to Lord Malmesbury two years later, ‘his maxim from the moment he took office was first to make peace, and then to preserve it … if France chose, and as long as France chose; but to resist all clamour and invective at home, till such time as France (and he ever foresaw it must happen) had filled the measure of her folly, and had put herself completely in the wrong.’

Talks went on quietly in the summer of 1801 in London between the foreign secretary, Lord Hawkesbury, and a French diplomat, Monsieur Otto, and a preliminary agreement was signed at the beginning of October. The French had far the better of the deal. They agreed to restore the Two Sicilies and the Papal States to their former regimes, but they kept control of the Netherlands, the west bank of the Rhine, Piedmont and the Savoy, while Britain agreed to leave Egypt and let go of the Cape of Good Hope, Malta, and various islands in the Caribbean, while keeping Trinidad and Ceylon.

The agreement gained the approval of Pitt, however, and Lord Cornwallis, an eminent soldier and former governor-general of India, was appointed as ambassador-extraordinary to agree the final treaty. He was no diplomat and had largely forgotten his French, but he left for Paris and an interview with the First Consul in November, after which the two sides got down to detailed discussions in the Hôtel de Ville at Amiens. With Talleyrand hovering in the background, the French deputation was led by Joseph Bonaparte, Napoleon’s elder brother, who was well liked personally by the English representatives, though dismayingly prone to offering concessions in private one day and ruling them out in public the next. William Wilberforce urged Addington to include the abolition of slavery in the Amiens terms, but Addington, though sympathetic, wanted nothing to interfere with progress towards peace. After months of wrangling over details, Cornwallis threatened to go home unless matters were settled in eight more days, and the treaty was finally concluded [on 27th May 1802].

Though widely welcomed on both sides of the Channel, the Peace of Amiens was no more than a truce. It lasted for not much longer than a year, giving both sides a breathing space in which to reorganise before the war was formally resumed in May 1803.”(https://www.historytoday.com/archive/months-past/treaty-amiens)

The treaty had ‘marked the end of the French Revolutionary Wars; after a short peace it set the stage for the Napoleonic Wars.’ (Wikipedia)

This evening we dined on different lefties – the others on Red Chilli Takeaway, and I on the roast lamb dinner. Jackie drank more of the Pino Grigio; Flo and Dillon, sparkling fruit flavoured water; and I Max’s Penfolds Shiraz Cabernet 2019.

Garden And Album Arrangements

While Jackie continued working in the Rose Garden, I trimmed half of Karen and Barry’s wedding photographs and laid them loosely in the first of the albums.

I keep imagining that the Head Gardener will have completed the clearing and tidying of the Rose Garden, but there is always something more to admire.

Today she unclogged the water fountain and set it going again, and refreshed and planted up one of the stone urns;

cleaned Scooby’s stone and refreshed the lettering;

and cut back the roses in the bed beside the orange shed, leaving sweet pea bunting in place.

Dillon has now joined Flo in watering containers like the hanging basket above – a task of life-giving irrigation. What is very surprising is that this lace-cap hydrangea has survived on no water for a month.

We have numerous varieties of lily, still including hemerocallis.

Blue agapanthus blooms in the Pond Bed, have popped out of their casings, while others in the Palm Bed are still to emerge.

The Puerto Rico Dahlias share a bed with clematis and phlox; the deep red ones are in the West Bed.

Jackie has successfully grown a number of zinnias from seed.

This the most plentiful hibiscus.

This peach climber is producing its third flush of the year.

There are more benefits of watering seen in these views looking west.

This evening we dined on Mr Pink’s fish, chips, and mushy peas, with Garner’s pickled onions, with which Jackie drank Trentin Pino Grigio 2021, Dillon drank Hoegaarden, Flo drank elderflower cordial, and I finished the Rasteau.

Stagnant Pea-Soup

This morning Jackie drove me to Wessex Photography in Lymington to collect another batch of printing paper, and on to Pilley to investigate the state of the old quarry lake.

All was silent save the occasional distant bird call and traffic traversing Jordan’s Lane as I stepped out onto the stony, gnarled surface of the bed pitted and cracked from the best part of a month with no water.

There was no apparent sign of life on a landscape inviting NASA’s probing analysis.

As I turned to leave this potentially ankle-twisting terrain,

I discovered that slowly, soundlessly, two pairs of desperate ponies had arrived to attempt to prise some nourishment from their empty larder.

Only one of these creatures seeking a drink sniffed, curled up her nose, and left untasted the smear of stagnant pea soup that was all that remained of their customary liquid refreshment. She settled for a mud foot-bath.

I spent the afternoon completing the printing of Karen and Barry’s wedding pictures.

This evening we dined on succulent roast lamb; crisp roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower and broccoli; tender runner beans, and meaty gravy. Jackie drank Hoegaarden; Dillon, Ribena, and I, more of the Rasteau.

A Stream Of Cyclists

Yesterday Jackie put in more work perfecting the Rose Garden clearance. The path leading to the white seat had been weeded by Flo.

When she noticed the bag of recycling material outside our front door ripped open this morning with its contents distributed round the garden, Jackie wondered what had done this. After she cleared it up and stepped out the back the answer became clear.

Badgers had returned. The Waterboy arrangement, the corner pots on the patio edge of the Pond Bed, and the stumpery had been wrecked. Before I photographed the damage The Head Gardener had righted the second two sites although she had missed the ornamental mouse trampled into the patio gravel, and the earth was still strewn across the Brick Path. In the process Jackie had disturbed a wasp’s nest, one resident of which stung her.

Later in the morning Dillon, straight off the plane, arrived with Flo and Becky who had collected him on arrival soon after 7.00 a.m. None of the three had slept during the night, so the young couple went straight to bed and Becky rested on our sofa for a while before setting off back to Southbourne. She later texted to let us know she had arrived home safely.

I scanned 14 of our granddaughter’s colourful drawings before Jackie and I lunched at

The Rising Sun. The allegedly Light Bites we enjoyed were

a Ploughman’s Lunch for me and tuna salad for Mrs Knight.

The photograph of the pub above was taken from the cracked and hoof-pitted-concrete-moulded terrain of Wootton Common opposite.

The extra large photograph albums I ordered for the wedding photographs arrived this morning.

New Forest Cycling Club had gathered by the stream at Wootton Car Park. As we arrived they trooped off down the road

and left the increasingly shallow shingle bed to other visitors.

This evening we dined on Red Chilli’s excellent takeaway fare with which Jackie and Dillon drank Hoegaarden, Flo drank water, and I drank Chassaux Rasteau 2019.

Male Multitasking

As usual my eagerly awaited printing inks were found on the doorstep this afternoon, despite no-one having knocked.

I was therefore forced to continue my chicken stock creation from recently roasted bones, applying Becky’s flavoursome method; simultaneously printing 61 more of Karen and Barry’s wedding photographs;

and progressing my reading of ‘The Moonstone’.

Great care was taken to keep both book and prints grease-free.

Tonight’s dinner was slow roasted pork with crunchy crackling; Bramley apple sauce; tender green beans; firm Brussels sprouts , and tasty gravy. As can be seen I had begun my penultimate glass of the Saint-Emilion before the meal, as had Jackie her Hoegaarden.

Reaching Above The Potting Shed

Flo, yesterday evening, and Jackie this morning spent a good deal of time continuing the tidying of the Rose Garden.

This morning I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2022/07/24/a-knights-tale-146-big-clean-days/

After lunch I bagged up the last of the debris from the Rose Garden and watered the raised bed at at the end of the Back Drive. Flo had watered the containers last night.

As can be seen from these photographs I produced later this afternoon the container watering has kept the garden glowing.

Super Elfin rose stretches from the Gothic arch which spans the Brick Path.

The Rose Garden had been opened up again.

Jackie was working in there for a while longer.

The lilies to the top left of this garden view reach above the potting shed.

This evening we dined on more of the Papa John’s pizzas with which Jackie and I repeated our beverages while Flo drank Mango J20

A Knight’s Tale (146: Big Clean Days)

My penultimate day in Sigoules during February 2013 was what David had termed a ‘big clean’ day. It is the mandatory preparation for the next visitors. Washing and ironing was the least of it, because that had been done throughout my stay.

I worked my way down from the top. First the sweeping and hoovering, including the removal of any of the previous year’s lingering cobwebs. Then the dusting, although there was very little of that. Beds needed to be prepared, and the porcelain attended to. The final task was swabbing down tiles and staircases.

When I had the luxury of more than one day I could be more thorough. I first dealt with those rooms I either had not used or would not be using again before I left.

No-one this time had used the attic rooms accessed by the upper staircase. They therefore didn’t need much attention. Attic rooms 2 and 3 each lead off room 1. What this room loses in privacy it gains in the presence of two spacious walk-in locked cupboards. I think it was Elizabeth who pointed out that it would be possible to get two more bedrooms out of them. The exposed original stone wall is interlaced with huge wooden beams from the dismantled barges that could only navigate one way up the Dordogne. Only two entrance beams were a danger to heads. These, as in the doorway of room 2, had warning flags pinned to them. Otherwise a stepladder is required to reach the roof. The chest of drawers in room 3 occupies a niche which terminates below head height.

When Michael and Heidi and their family first came here it took Oliver about thirty seconds to get up to the top and bag the bed in room 1. The girls were quite happy with his choice, although Alice soon rigged up a truckle bed beside her brother. The cupboard in room 3 had reminded her of a scary story.

After the attic came first floor bedroom 2 which, although large, needed a minimal amount of furniture as it had a built-in wardrobe.

I descended to the downstairs WC and shower-room and gave it a good once-over. Finally, I swept and swabbed down the upper staircase and the utility corridor leading to the shower room. The only hazard in this area was the front wheel of Oliver’s outgrown mountain bike that hangs from the ceiling.

I spent the next morning hoovering and tidying the rest of the rooms.

Following Elizabeth’s sensible suggestion, I changed my bedding in the main bedroom just for the last night. This obviated the need for trying to get it washed, dried, and ironed on the morning of departure. Possible in the summer, but certainly not during that time.

As I had only eaten two meals at home on that trip, the kitchen didn’t need too much attention.

The sitting room and entrance hall have had the heaviest usage. The defunct washing machine and ancient ironing board in the hall are waiting for a kind friend with wheels to help me take them to the municipal dump.

I did not venture into the cellar that lies beneath a trapdoor in the hall. At the bottom of a narrow winding set of stone steps the entrance required me to bend double, and I was not often up for that. This opens out into a spacious area Mike had kitted out as a workroom. It would then have ben used to store winter fuel, had I got round to buying any. When the Kindreds first lived here, a friend fell through the open trapdoor and broke his leg. This prompted Mike to build one of his inventive constructions. He fashioned a retractable balustrade to surround the entrance to the nether regions when open; rigged up a wall-mounted pulley such as would hold an elephant; and equipped this with a powerful webbing strip to be attached to one of the iron rings from which the trapdoor can, by slowly cranking the winch, be raised. The instructions for doing this are pasted, in French and in English, on the wall beside it. Mike is not a games inventor for nothing. I kept the balustrade hooked in place on the wall and covered the tiled trapdoor with a carpet. Jackie’s sunhat concealed the machinery.

The bathroom would have a thorough clean in the morning; and, in order to allow time for drying overnight, the ground floor tiles and lower stairs would be washed before I went to bed. My mobile phone lies on the ledge behind the loo because that is the only place where I could sometimes receive a signal. It beat keeping a stack of joke books beside the seat.

The last three weeks had been so wet that I hadn’t been able thoroughly to sweep the tiles in the courtyard garden, although there was a brief window of warm sun that afternoon enabling me to sit outside for a while and even get a king sized duvet cover iron-dry. The birds were joyful. Maybe the chicken would finish the sweeping.

Selecting Sheltered Spots

Early this morning Jackie continued the clearance in the Rose Garden. I carted her clippings to the compost bins and carried out more dead-heading before we shopped and the Co-op in Stopples Lane then took a drive into the forest.

Well before mid-day shadows flickering in the woodland alongside Bisterne Close manifested as clusters of fly-infested shelter-seeking ponies twitching tails, scratching with frantic hoof and friction against dappled tree trunk clinging together for comfort. Only the ferns risked the direct sun’s rays.

A pair of cyclists who wheeled along the Close were encountered at several points later, and could be

seen on Forest Road beyond a mare and foal, part of a group

disrupting traffic as they sought their own

spots of shelter beneath the spreading branches spanning the road.

Cattle preferred to shelter in the shrubbery.

Elizabeth visited us this afternoon, bringing goodies for Flo, and stayed for dinner which consisted of a selection of Papa John’s pizzas. My sister and I drank Esprit de Puisseguin Saint-Emilion 2019, and Jackie drank Hoegaarden.