October 2022 – Page 2 – derrickjknight

Hands

Helen and Bill visited this afternoon to meet their great niece.

Jackie’s sister, delighted to have a cuddle,

brought a still warm Fordingbridge Apple Fruit cake she had baked in honour of the event.

This was largely polished off during the course of the afternoon.

Flo was pleased when Jackie reached out to Ellie,

and when her daughter reciprocated.

This evening we dined on succulent roast pork with crisp crackling and Yorkshire pudding; sage and onion stuffing; roast potatoes; firm cauliflower and broccoli; crunchy carrots; and meaty gravy, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Barossa Valley Shiraz, 2021.

Found Photographs

On the evening of 14th, before I’d even found the instruction manual on my Samsung Gallery A13, I took a test walk round the garden.

There was just one acceptable picture.

A couple of days after this a photograph of Ellie appeared on the phone Wallpaper.

Some days still later I discovered the phone gallery which contained portraits of our great granddaughter sitting in her Great Grannie’s chair.

Flo had been busy.

Today I worked out how to e-mail these images to myself and put them into my iPhotos library.

This evening we repeated yesterday’s pasta arrabbiata meal with the same beverages.

Who Lived Down Here?

This morning Jackie drove me into the forest.

At the bottom of Bull Hill a troop of donkeys blocked the road. After negotiating her way round them, Jackie drove on until she could stop safely, when I disembarked and walked back to find that the animals had

ambled off to disrupt traffic further down the road.

Undeterred, I followed, trying not to inconvenience the traffic myself, and found them separately secluded in various entrances.

At the narrow, Portmore, end of Jordans Lane

I spotted a stationary stone squirrel sited on slate tiles.

We wondered who lived down here.

On our return home I received a message from EE stating that my number had been transferred – and another from O2 informing me that I was on emergency calls only.

Flo then helped me get my head around using the new device. This, of course, required much patience from her as she watched her grandfather’s nervous fingers stubbing away, often inserting the wrong information, if only with one incorrect digit. She positioned the various icons in Grandpa-friendly locations on the screen.

This evening we dined on tricolore fusilli pasta arrabbiata with cauliflower and broccoli al dente sprinkled with Parmesan cheese accompanied by Hoegaarden in Jackie’s case, and more of the Cabernet Sauvignon in mine.

What Season?

This afternoon I accompanied my camera on a walk around the garden.

We have a number of brightly blooming begonias;

of different dahlias;

cow parsley, under the impression that the season is spring;

Summer Wine believing its period prevails;

chrysanthemums confident that it is now their time;

roses like this small pink patio example,

white Winchester Cathedral,

shy Shropshire Lad,

and hollyhocks, all uncertain;

ubiquitous fuchsias, erigerons,

and bidens;

clinging clusters of clematis;

golden Weeping Birch leaves poised to fall – all enjoying this warm shirtsleeves afternoon.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s lemon and herb chicken, wholesome savoury rice, and tender green beans with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2021.

Along St Leonard’s Road

Once more I spent time this afternoon in EE’s Lymington High Street store. Those who have followed the saga of the last few days will know that I have been unable to extract the all-important replacement PAC code from O2 to enable the change of mobile phone supplier to EE to take place.

I decided to ask EE to sort this out, and made an appointment with Caleb, the store manager. First I had to speak to O2’s Customer Services representative. My new helper made the call to negotiate the robot machines and arrive at the relevant department, then passed the phone to me. The procedure I had gone through yesterday was repeated until I requested that the two respective employees spoke directly to each other. They both obliged. The conclusion was reached that O2 could not renew the code because their system showed it had been activated, and would stay in force until November. EE has it stated as rejected, preventing them from proceeding. Definitely a question of left and right hands. Caleb passed the issue to his special projects team who will liaise with their counterparts in O2. This could take up to 48 hours.

Our later restorative forest drive took Jackie and me along St Leonard’s Road which runs from East End past St Leonard’s Grange.

The late afternoon light cast shadows and reflections across the recently accumulated pools along the verges and gateways.

One reflected post

was from a fence stretching towards the Isle of Wight.

An apple tree was producing ripening fruit.

Plentiful pheasants were in evidence, possibly from a breeding farm nearby.

Some romp freely among the fields;

others prefer the walls of the ruined medieval grange;

or loiter in the hedgerows.

The more suicidally inclined try to outrun the car like young squirrels, or deliberately play chicken by dashing across it. Maybe these options are preferable to waiting to be peppered with buckshot.

This evening we dined on three prawn preparations – hot and spicy, salt and pepper, and Tempranillo, served on Jackie’s colourful and wholesome savoury rice, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Puglia Primitivo.

Otherwise She Would Block The Road

Early this morning I watched recordings of the Women’s rugby World Cup match between USA and Japan, and between Wales and New Zealand.

Later, I telephoned O2 to ask once more for the PAC Code. I was connected to the Sales team. Carl, the man I spoke to, was very helpful and immediately sent the code – twice because it had not arrived. He then realised it had not been delivered because mine was reported as an invalid number. I pointed out that that had not stopped them sending the six unwelcome and, in the circumstances irrelevant, texts on the previous two days.

He left me on hold while seeking advice. He then transferred me to Customer Services. I offered the opinion that, given this was all about my leaving, that was surely the department to which I should have been sent first.

Before Customer Services answered we were disconnected. I heard no more.

This called for a postprandial forest drive.

“Slosh, slosh”, went the heavy breathing Tamworth pigs on Coach Hill Lane outside Burley

as they smilingly shuffled and snuffled around hoovering up the plentiful acorns

falling from the trees overhanging

this narrow, winding, lane

with its homes hidden behind intriguing garden gates.

Many of the woodland verges, like these running all the way through Shobley, where autumn’s brush-strokes are as yet barely adding seasonal colour, are now lined with posts placed to prevent parking of vehicles churning countryside vegetation. When Jackie drops me off for a photo foray in such an area she drives on and comes back for me – otherwise she would block the road just as the pigs were doing.

This evening we dined on roast lamb with crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes including the softer sweet variety; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower, broccoli and Brussels sprouts; and meaty gravy, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Puglia Primitivo.

‘A Muddy Golden Pond’

This morning I watched recordings of the Women’s rugby World Cup between Scotland and Australia, and between England and France.

Yesterday’s readers will know of my O2 saga. I did not receive the PAC code today, but I did receive two e-mails featuring a survey seeking to know about my satisfaction. Needless to say the scores were minimal, the questions bore no relevance to my leaving, they asked what the purpose of my conversation had been (when I had already detailed it a question or two before) etc., etc.

I made another attempt to transfer photos from my phone to my computer, and failed again so reverted to my tried and tested Canon EOS 5D for the forest drive we took this afternoon.

Our journey began in calm, encouraging, sunshine; gradually the clouds became dark and brooding, large soft raindrops caressed the windscreen, and acorn pistol shots ricocheted from the Modus body.

At the corner of Ringwood Road where overhead trees were reflected in pools along the verges,

another photographer, like me, had disembarked, leaving his Chauffeuse at the wheel, in order to photograph

a string of dripping donkeys

beyond which cows sheltering beneath other trees drew me across the road where

I disturbed a deer which took a good look at me before departing in haste.

As I negotiated the verge to reembark I photographed these acorns and oak leaves floating in ‘a muddy golden pond’ borrowed from https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2022/10/16/golden-pond/

This evening we dined on Jackie’s succulent cottage pie; fried potatoes and onions, crunchy carrots, and tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Terra Calda Puglia Primitivo 2019. Flo and Dillon ate later.

Now for the good news. This post has been published without any glitches just as I had almost forgotten was normal

Better Luck Tomorrow

Having spent the morning transferring my stored telephone numbers manually and individually because my older Samsung phone is obsolete and therefore cannot do it automatically, Jackie and I spent much of the afternoon at the Lymington EE offices.

The comparatively easy task was to buy my Chauffeuse a new mobile phone.

Mine was not so easy. The promised transfer from O2 failed. A PAC Code – whatever that is – essential for the process, was given by this supplier I wished to leave yesterday. This afternoon when that number was presented to complete the handover it was rejected.

This meant I was required to telephone O2, which I did. After the usual queuing for an agent, I was told that a new code number would be sent and this could take 10 minutes, an hour, or 24 hours. The agent said she could not say how long because her system wouldn’t allow her to send this information, and someone else would be transmitting it.

I asked her why her system wouldn’t allow it. The answer was that her system was down.

I remained polite but did suggest that someone else should therefore have made the call and that perhaps this would give her an indication of why I wanted to leave her company.

By 7.00 p.m. this evening I had not received the code, but within ten minutes of this conversation I had received 4 identical e-mails saying they hoped I would not decide to leave today.

Before leaving Lymington I bought a USB cable from Peacock Computers, intending to try out the new phone’s camera. I produced a batch of pictures, but couldn’t manage to transfer them to my computer.

Maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome cottage pie, crunchy carrots, firm Brussels sprouts, and tender runner beans, with which which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Monte Plogar.

How Many Centuries?

Jackie drove me to Lymington where I spent the morning in the EE showroom. I had been two days without a service on O2. There is no other supplier’s showroom within several miles of us, and I could not telephone O2.

Cutting a long story short, I decided to transfer to EE, where it is possible to speak to a real person in an accessible building. My old Samsung, a good 10 years old, is now obsolete, so I also upgraded to the current model.

Miraculously, my O2 account worked this afternoon.

Late this afternoon, we took a short forest drive.

I stepped out on Holmsley Passage

and photographed autumn bracken in surrounding woodland

and undulating landscape.

Voices of the two young women on the winding road had carried way up the hill behind me.

Further on, I wondered for how many centuries had shafts of sunlight outlined the mossy mounds of the ancient hedgerow banks along Bisterne Close, or

the backs of generations of smiling young pigs,

gleefully guzzling

acorns on the steep slopes leading out of Burley.

This evening we dined on second helpings of last night’s takeaway with the same beverages.

Flamboyant

As so often, this morning, the few minutes during which I sought my camera, was sufficient to turn

the gorgeously glowing lambent flames of the dawn skies

into pale pastel pinks and indigos.

Later, Martin, lighting a bonfire in a rusty wheelbarrow, no longer fit for purpose, now serving as an incinerator

stood between the flickering kindling and the flamboyant foliage of creeping Virginia vine,

stoking the open furnace with

a week’s clippings.

Becky brought Flo, Dillon, and Ellie back from Eastbourne this afternoon, stayed a while, then returned to her own home.

This evening we dined on a Red Chilli takeaway meal with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Cariñena Monte Plogar Gran Reserva 2016. The young couple ate later.