Knowing that we would have both Nick working on the house, and Martin in the garden, and thinking of the photo opportunities this would provide, Becky offered the opinion that has provided today’s title.
Martin began by mowing the lawn, which involved temporarily moving the pebbles from around the chimney pot, and carrying the clippings to the compost bins.
Meanwhile Nick began applying the first coat of paint to the west end gable wall. The pressure he needed to exert proved too much for his roller so he had to go and fetch another.
A Red Admiral butterfly alighted on a dust sheet.
Martin continued working on the Palm Bed clearance;
Nick finished applying
the first coat of paint to the wall;
and Martin brought the Palm Bed clearance alongside Jackie’s earlier footpath.
When Nick asked if he could wash his roller in our kitchen sink, Becky said “only if Dad can photograph you while you do it.” “I’ll lock the door”, was our friend’s reply.
This evening we dined on meaty and spicy pizzas, corn on the cob and fresh salad with Becky’s dressing. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Merlot.
This morning I published https://derrickjknight.com/2023/07/12/livia/ which I finished reading yesterday.
The stiff breeze that sped through the plot on this sunny day was such that I was pleased that Nick Hayter, who, with his customary care, spent several hours preparing the crumbly pebbledash west wall for painting, was working on the lower levels of the scaffolding.
First he removed the old drainpipe that, at an angle, spanned the centre of the wall;
next he scraped off the crumbliest material
and coated the rest with a liquid fungicidal solution.
Jackie had spent the morning completing her clearance of a footpath through the Palm Bed. She had filled two compost bags with debris. After lunch I bagged up more and transported all to the collection on the Back Drive. I had taken my camera in order to photograph the footpath, and was diverted by
a variety of day lilies en route.
This evening we all dined on pork barbecue spare ribs; rice by Jackie and Becky; and Becky’s salad with her own dressing. Mrs Knight drank Hoegaarden; Ian and Dillon, Peroni; and I, All Out 21 Merlot.
It is perhaps the former cruciverbalist in me that prompted me to take up the Finnegan’s Wake challenge when I read that it contained sextilingual puns; or to persevere with Lawrence Durrell’s quincunx, of which “Livia, or Buried Alive” is the second book.
I failed Joyce’s challenge, giving up after 200 pages.
I am however getting somewhere with Durrell. This is because I am beginning to understand how metafiction works. Just as there was no sense in approaching Finnegan’s Wake as a chronological narrative this is the wrong way to appreciate Durrell’s work, which opens with a conversation between the narrator and one of his creations on the subject of autobiography, which in itself has echoes of our author’s own life story.
Set in the decade building up to the Second World War, I rather see the work as a series of tales concerning imaginary people who are not actually present, even when narrator Blanford is conversing with them. We have difficult early years; nocturnal wanderings around Avignon; discussions of fears about the conflict to come; a privileged wealthy libertine; some unpleasantly sordid revels suggestive of child abuse – all with Durrell’s glorious poetic prose. It is not easy, but so far is worth the effort.
Once again the Book Jacket is illustrated by David Gentleman’.
His themes include paintings of landscape and environmental posters to drawings of street life and protest placards. He has written and illustrated many books, mostly about countries and cities. He also designed a number of British commemorative postage stamps.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Gentleman
Slipped inside the front flap of this jacket is a browned cutting from The Times newspaper of 21st September 1978, on the basis of which I bought this first edition.
Our carpenter James, assisted by his father, Nick replaced perished wood from our west gable end and refurbished the structure with plastic replacements today.
First, James measured everything, then
prepared remaining woodwork on which to
apply new plastic sections which had been cut to size and shape as laid out along our Back Drive.
James’s father, Nick, visited the site for a short while to help in this stage of the work.
It was Nick who told his son that this house was once the village post office, and recognised that
beneath the blue of the removed wood was the post office red he remembered from the early sixties. He also knew the legendary postmistress.
James
fitted some small sections before leaving.
He told me how windy it was as to make it impossible to hear voices from up the top. Indeed it had been windy enough at ground level for
the Patio chairs in the Fairy Garden to suffer the usual fate of ours.
For this evening’s dinner, Becky produced garlic butter wrapped in chicken thighs wrapped in lean bacon; savoury vegetable rice; and tender green beans and asparagus. Jackie drank Hoegaarden; Ian Peroni; and I, more of the Malbec.
Jackie and I undertook a Tesco’s shopping trip today, after she had made purchases at Ferndene Farm Shop.
After lunch I conducted a long dead heading session with my new Wilkinson’s secateurs given to me on my birthday by Flo and Dillon. Later, I produced a few garden photographs.
On the near corner of Flo’s Fairy Garden stand a little patio seating set waiting for a permanent place when some healthy plants have been thinned out and the elfin gravel paths have been cleared a bit.
One cluster of day lilies stands beside the Shady Path
Gazebo and Brick Paths all now cleared,
attention has now been given to footpaths across the beds like these to the Orange Shed and through the West Bed;
and to the decking area cleaned and potted up.
Tall lilies tower over even climbers like Shropshire Lad in the Rose Garden.
We have ubiquitous varieties of day lilies and hot lips throughout the beds.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in pleasant conversation with the ladies of all ages in the household.
This evening we all dined on superb pork and chive sausages with creamy mash and fried onions, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Sierra Los Andes Mendoza Malbec 2022.
Jackie began the day by photographing a pair of dripping wood pigeons huddled atop the Weeping Birch before overnight rain had desisted.
As the skies began to brighten we set off on a drive into the forest where the only signs of livestock were
cyclists like these on Sowley Lane, on the verge of which the
Assistant Photographer photographed attractive pink bramble blossom along with fruit not fully formed beside a
potato field in the
process of being sprayed with waterworks which could probably have
inspired Handel.
I spent much of the afternoon recovering one post’s pictures. I could not have got anywhere with it without Wayback. There was no other way to work out which pictures were missing, especially as some of those that were there bore no relevance to the text:
In the event, it was impossible for me to change either the header picture or the category. Although this doesn’t really matter I would have liked to have done both.
This evening we all dined on roast lamb, roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and gravy, followed by Apple Strudel and custard with which Jackie and Becky drank Blossom Hill White Zinfandel 2021, Ian drank Peroni, and I finished the Nerello Mascalese.
This morning Tony and Cole of Solent Scaffolding erected the scaffolding to the western gable end of our house in readiness for refurbishment that was even needed when we bought it.
They were very happy to be photographed at work, the intense concentration required for this precise and potentially dangerous task somewhat belying their friendliness and humour. It was a pleasure to watch them and to learn the intricacies of what I thought of as adult Meccano to which Cole added Lego.
There was so little room beside the house for their equipment that it
was necessary for their van to be parked next door in North Breeze’s drive, and for
Cole to carry the poles and pass them to Tony over the dividing fence, where the confined space was negotiated.
The couplings (probably not their technical term) were carefully attached to the poles at their required joins, every section carefully
measured with a tape measure and tightened by Tony.
The topmost level was managed by Cole,
who also set the signage in place.
Tony
walked the planks in a last examination.
Their labour was made more difficult by the extreme humidity of the day on which they had two more jobs to carry out.
This evening we all dined on Jackie’s wholesome shepherd’s pie; firm broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots; tender runner beans, and tasty gravy, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Nerello Mascalese.
Yesterday I had no time to include my review of our meal itself on our visit to Lal Quilla, held over until today doing justice to our favourite local Indian restaurant.
This outlet, discovered ten years ago, is a worthy successor to my favourite in London – Edgware Road’s Akash.
The restaurant’s website: https://www.lalquilla-lymington.co.uk contains full details of the establishment, founded in 1987, its menus, and a short video of the presentation of Asia Today award of 2021 for the best Indian restaurant in Hampshire. This is no mean feat and we were not surprised to learn it.
We have enjoyed friendly and efficient service under the management of Raj who has always welcomed us and remembered our likes. The food has always been exemplary and plentiful. Indeed, as we have aged we have needed to reduce our intake.
Raj and his staff, who also remember our companions, welcomed us as usual last night. We are always led to our seats, whether booked in advance or not. The manager, in particular, always has time for conversation.
This evening main courses included chicken makhani; chicken korma; chicken jaljala; chicken sag; and
Becky’s sheek kebab, which came with salad, fried onions, and mint sauce was declared the best she had ever experienced.
Ellie in this picture may well have been tucking into what Raj accurately recalled on greeting us was her favourite popadom seeped in mango juice. She certainly extended to him her greeting arm motions and glowing smile.
Ian, having arrived late following his afternoon’s work, was greeted at the door, handed a pint of Kingfisher, had his order taken and embarked upon immediately, led to his seat, and hardly blinked before he was given an opportunity to catch up eating with the rest of us.
Dillon and I also drank Kingfisher; Jackie and Becky Diet Coke; and Flo and Ellie J2O.
It is apparent that we are not the only customers given such attentive service and welcome.
Gentle traditional music plays quietly and unobtrusively in the background of these well decorated rooms with open and partitioned sections.
As our evening was coming to a close Raj and two waiters advanced on our table singing Happy Birthday to me and presenting me with a suitable ice-cream cake on a chocolate base. Finally we each, except for Flo, received a tot of Bailey’s, which in our household is now called a complimentary.
I spent much of the morning recovering pictures from two more posts. When Wayback Machine is required these processes take much longer because when images are completely missing and have no indications of what they were I have to use that indispensable facility. This was the case with:
This evening Becky and Ian joined us all at Lal Quilla for my birthday meal, which I will review tomorrow. In the meantime here are Jackie’s photographs of family members.
Becky brought along some new toys which kept Ellie well amused.
Our great granddaughter sat between her parents for a while,
mostly on her mother’s lap,
until gravitating towards that of her grandmother.
In the event I did submit an offering of a post which did not have to send me round the bend as did these two. There are more, which I couldn’t face today.
Later, I bagged up more garden refuse and photographed a variety of ferns in the Patio Bed.
