March 2023 – Page 4 – derrickjknight

Bullseye Glass

Although we were not beset by the snow that has blanketed most of the UK, this was the coldest day here since our central heating system has not been functioning, so we set off in steady, icy, rain for a forest drive.

I was not in the mood for being inspired to photograph gloomy raindrops on the windscreen, through which to capture spray thrown up by vehicles, headlights reflected in waterlogged tarmac, or even dripping donkeys; even less to stir tingling fingers and toes from the Modus.

Prepared to return home without a picture we settled on brunch at

The Brockenhurst Buttery.

While awaiting for Jackie’s home cooked macaroni cheese and my

ham, eggs, and chips, I had plenty of time to study the

windows facing me.

“Crown glass was an early type of window glass. In this process, glass was blown into a “crown” or hollow globe. This was then transferred from the blowpipe to a punty and then flattened by reheating and spinning out the bowl-shaped piece of glass (bullion) into a flat disk by centrifugal force, up to 5 or 6 feet (1.5 to 1.8 metres) in diameter. The glass was then cut to the size required.^[1]

The thinnest glass was in a band at the edge of the disk, with the glass becoming thicker and more opaque toward the center. Known as a bullseye, the thicker center area around the pontil mark was used for less expensive windows. To fill large window spaces with the best glass, many small diamond shapes were cut from the edge of the disk, and then some might be halved into triangles. These were mounted in a lead lattice work and fitted into the window frame.

Crown glass was one of the two most common processes for making window glass until the 19th century. The other was blown plate. Crown glass window panes with ceramic frames have been found at Soba East, the medieval capital of Alodia. They are only 110–115 millimetres (4.3–4.5 in) in diameter and were probably used to provide light in storerooms.^[2] The process of making crown glass window panes was perfected by French glassmakers in the 1320s, notably around Rouen, and was a trade secret. Hence crown glass was not made in London until 1678.

Crown glass is one of many types of hand-blown glass. Other methods include: broad sheet, blown plate, polished plate and cylinder blown sheet. These methods of manufacture lasted at least until the end of the 19th century. The early 20th century marks the move away from hand-blown to machine-manufactured glass such as rolled plate, machine drawn cylinder sheet, flat drawn sheet, single and twin ground polished plate and float glass.^[3]” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crown_glass_(window)

Prompted by the beautifully photographed and timely post, “Where Have All The Flowers Gone?” from equinoxio21.wordpress.com·

I returned to my earlier post

The Bees

in order to emphasise the section about the widowed casualties of the First World War. I have retained the original post title but changed the header picture drawing attention to the last, but not least, story on the post.

As Happy As A Pig In The Proverbial

This had 27 pictures missing. Fortunately I traced them in my iMac Photos by the date of the post. They all bear their titles in that archive, so I was able to reinsert them into the post hoping I had interpreted my text correctly. I changed the original header picture.

Félicité Perpétue

With this one I managed to have two copies of the header in the body of the post, and can’t take one out. Never mind, they are pretty flowers.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s trademark cottage pie; firm cauliflower, carrots, and Brussels sprouts, with which she drank Hoegaarden, and I finished the Malbec.

Cutting Back

After lunch I recovered pictures and substituted feature images for the following posts:

The Mud Map

Ratatouille

Boiling Hankies

His waterproof hooded jacket glistening from fairly steady light rain Martin had spent the morning cutting back last year’s dead garden material.

In order to improve the view from our kitchen window,

he began with the Pond Bed.

As will be seen from a few views I photographed on a walk round the garden, there is much more to be done.

Pearly drops slowly slid from camellias

and hellebores.

Tête-à-têtes and snowdrops happily co-existed, and

the lichen on the Nottingham Castle bench continued to celebrate the purer air of its last resting place.

This evening we dined on succulent roast chicken; sage and onion stuffing; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm broccoli and cauliflower; tender green beans; and tasty gravy, with which Jackie drank Diet Coke and I drank more of the Malbec.

I Almost Made A Pig’s Ear…

I spent much of the day on recovering lost work on earlier posts.

A Knight’s Tale (34: Wimbledon College)

gave me a false sense of security. There were only two missing pictures, including the header. The postcard of the coloured picture was in my media files and the photograph from 1893 in my iMac pictures. It took a short while to trace and transfer them.

I then spent most of the afternoon attempting to make a sow’s ear out of one of my Streets of London Series posts. I could not find the images in my iMac file, and struggled with the search until I realised that they were probably part of a batch lost during an earlier Apple Operating System update. Now, given that I could have reverted to my original well ordered colour slides, it might have more sensible to do just that and scan them all again. Readers will know what a stubborn soul I am, and I didn’t want to do that.

Although I did ultimately fail to completely sabotage myself, I did eventually recover most of

Remembering Hyde Park Square.

and change the header picture to one more pleasing (and not chosen by WordPress).

I did, however, manage to delete everything relating to the Animals in War Memorial, but substituted material from the Royal Parks site.

With the outside light fading fast and my willpower wilting, I left the one alteration to

Clinging Precariously

at the header. This post shows our garden at its best in August, but suffered from the “Attempt Block Recovery” curse. I did recover the blocks but couldn’t be bothered to do any more with them.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome cottage pie; firm cauliflower and broccoli with exceptionally tasty crunchy carrots, with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Mendoza Malbec 2020.

Stirring Sounds

After lunch today Jackie and I drove to Helen and Bill’s home in Fordingbridge to deliver my sister-in-law’s birthday present. They were not home so we emulated an on-line-shopping courier and left it wrapped up in the porch.

Such is the difference between country and city dwelling that the soldiers left guarding the premises opposite have stood unmolested for months now.

Jackie photographed me photographing them and a coloured one for herself.

I converted mine to black and white.

Periodically our journey was punctuated by cawing crescendos from a plethora of raucous rookeries, like this one around the corner, where canoodling couples indulged in nest-building frenzies.

Smaller songbirds’ sweeter symphonic trilling offered a pleasant alternative in the woodland of Hale Purlieu where still shaggy ponies in their winter wear cropped the grass.

I wandered past the ponies and looked down on the woodland hill slopes before retracing my steps.

Suddenly barking, a yelp, and cries of “leave”, shattered the peace as a pack of humans, let off the leash by their assorted canines, trailed from the trees to their waiting cars.

Foaming water roared from the mill race, entering the fast flowing, lapping, tinkling, rippling, varicoloured surface of the River Avon via the Woodgreen bridge.

Such was the variety of sounds stirring this early spring day.

This evening we dined on Red Chilli’s excellent Indian takeaway with which I finished the Syrah.

Droll Tales 10

The constant cold we are currently experiencing at home is becoming energy sapping enough for me to stay indoors and read more of Balzac’s Droll Tales.

The Folio Society have opted for the title Last Word for the tenth tale in the first Decade of Honoré de Balzac’s characteristically amusing stories.

This is a short account of unrequited lust, teasing temptation, crafty cuckolding, hopeless hatred and craving for vengeance, in what is presented as a warning lesson.

Here is Mervyn Peake’s sensitive illustration to the Folio Society edition.

Gustave Doré’s publishers have named the story “The Reproach”,

while the Bodley Head, for whom Jean de Bosschère provided the picture, prefer “The Rebuke”.

Further details of each of these publications is given in https://derrickjknight.com/2023/01/06/droll-tales-1/

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s flavoursome chicken and vegetable stewp with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Syrah.

Hey Duggee

Bonus benefits from having the Modus back in action at this time is that a forest drive this morning brought with it a ride in a car considerably warmer than a cold sitting room, and

a hot meal in the warm Hockey’s Farm Café, where the tables were all decorated with pots of têtes-à-têtes.

The bacon on my plate had not come from rescued pigs penned in separate enclosures side by side in the grounds of the farm.

A notice fronting these animals explains how they arrived there. It should be possible to read this explanation by enlarging Jackie’s photograph by clicking on it.

Her photographs show the boars that had been found roaming – one drinking and scratching, the other more sedate.

After our brunch, having realised that their separation was probably a necessity,

I made a few more images of the pigs.

This very restless one stalked backwards and forwards along the barrier fences, apparently desperate to reach his erstwhile companion.

The appearance of these creatures led us to wonder whether they may be a hybrid from the farm-kept wild boar introduced by an enterprising farmer a few years ago.

“Wild Boar
In 1686, it was stated that there were no wild boars left in England, and there was speculation that ‘it may be supposed that heretofore we had, and did not think it convenient to preserve that Game’.[5] The wild boar was considered a worthy adversary for huntsmen, and the aristocracy used boar hunting as a form of war games where they could practice the martial skills that would be needed on the battlefield. They believed that a wild boar who ‘when he seeth unavoidable death, he singleth out one of the Huntsmen and will run upon him with the greatest rage imaginable, not to be affrighted with swords or sticks’.[6] The boar was considered to have the strength of a lion and given the opportunity ‘will not only throw the Huntsman down, but if he hath no help will kill him’.[7] Charles I had tried to reintroduce wild boar to the New Forest in the early seventeenth century where, it was said, ‘they increased and became terrible to travellers’.[8] These animals were all killed during the English Civil Wars but, according to legend, not before they had bred with the domestic Forest sows and ‘tainted all the breeds of pigges in the neighbouring partes, which are of their colour; and kind of soot colour’.[9] It is doubtful if any of the progeny from these pairings have survived. Nowadays the only wild boar on the New Forest are farmed-kept and were introduced by an enterprising farmer only a few years ago.” (http://newforestcommoner.co.uk/2016/09/25/new-forest-pannage-pigs-and-wild-boar/)

Back home Ellie was swathed in Jackie’s jerkin while watching Hey Duggee on TV.

The Culinary Queen produced an especially tasty chicken and veg stewp for tonight’s dinner with which she drank Hoegaarden and I forgot.

The Patio Is Done

Resetting the pressure on the heating system has not worked. The process only lasts for two hours.

This morning I spoke to Elaine at Tom Sutton Heating, leaving a twofold message for Ronan: First, would it help to turn off some radiators?, second, was it safe to keep repeating the adjustment with that frequency?

Later, she rang me back, to say that it would destroy the system if we continued at that rate. She did, nevertheless, have some good news. Having earlier told me that the pipework could not be carried out until 29th March, she was now able to inform me that she had managed to swap our date with another client, so ours would now be 13th.

Trusting that the new appointment day is not auspicious – after all, the Ides are not until 15th, – there now does seem to be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Martin stayed a bit longer than expected today, because he was determined to finish the project on this visit without skimping on any of his legendary thoroughness.

The final grouting and cleaning of the paving, the sleeper step up to the Dead End Path, the low rock wall at the corner of the Pond Bed were finally finished to the craftsman’s satisfaction.

Before he left, he power washed the ageing patio furniture and settled them back on board. We will need them to suffice for another summer.

I enjoyed reading through my August 2012 posts up to the 12th, all of which contained their photographs and headers. Although I would be unable to move them without putting them into the WP gallery, this is not something yet necessary.

This evening we all dined on succulent rolled breast of lamb; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; tender cabbage; crisp Yorkshire pudding; and tasty gravy. with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Valle Central reserva privada Syrah 2021.

Headers

Today’s good news is that the Modus brakes have been fixed.

Today’s not so bad news is that the patio grouting is still too wet for Martin to proceed. He came to check on it and undertook to return tomorrow.

Now for the bad news:

The radiators had been cold again since yesterday lunchtime. Ronan from Tom Sutton Heating visited and established that there is a water leak somewhere in the system draining the radiators and causing pressure to drop. This will require new piping work which he will schedule as soon as possible. In the meantime we can keep adjusting the pressure, by the method he showed us, when it drops below the required level.

Soon after 5 p.m. the radiators were heating up.

I feel a bit drained myself, so I settled for a little more work on picture recovery.

It Would Have Been Rude Not To

and

Trowelling And Hawking

required the “Attempt Block Recovery” treatment which worked to reveal the photographs, and in each I was able to place one picture into the WP media file to produce a header.

Would You Believe It?

“Would You Believe It?” proved somewhat more difficult and I managed to lose a couple of the images, which I can live with. The portrait of my Dad that appears in the text is the photocopy that I had used, that being my only medium at the time. With Mum’s death last year the original that I had given to her was returned to me. I therefore made a new header of that.

This evening we all dined on spicy chicken thighs, new potatoes, crunchy carrots and green beans, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Merlot brought home from the Smugglers Inn two days ago.