Month: October 2023

Warm October Sunshine

Early this morning I watched a recording of last night’s rugby World Cup semi final match between England and South Africa.

Later, sporting shirt sleeves, I wandered among the garden plants with my camera.

As usual, accessing the gallery by clicking on any image will reveal individual titles.

Before dinner, Jackie drove me to Hatchet Pond to catch the sunset.

While waiting for the sun to reach the lake I was entranced by

the calm communing of a lone woman who was unknowingly blessed by a rainbow as light rain fell.

Jackie had also glimpsed the colourful phenomenon as it appeared above the car park.

We each photographed the sunset, the last two in this gallery being by Jackie.

The above mentioned dinner consisted of Jackie’s delicious chicken and vegetable stewp followed by her spicy pumpkin pie. We drank more of the same wines of yesterday.

Battle For Brunch

This was a morning of brief showers alternating with bright sunshine giving way to a gloomy afternoon.

As we drove out of our front garden I noticed that Félicité Perpétue is thoroughly confused about whether she is six months early to bloom, or six months late.

We started along the coast road where a couple walked along the clifftop and the Isle of Wight and The Needles sparkled beneath a moody skyscape. Soon we returned back up Downton Lane where we

noticed tractor tyre tracks leading to the stubble of Roger Cob’s field.

We were setting off to Lakeside Café at nearby Bashley for brunch, after which we intended to continue a forest drive. This was to take some time waiting for various traffic holdups and diversions to clear. Our blocked lanes were too narrow for us to see why vehicles in front kept exercising three or four point turns.

On Hordle Lane we eventually saw the police had closed the road because a van had mounted the verge, crossed a small garden, and ended up in a field. Backtracking we tried Arnewood Bridge Road

where an enormous Bugler Coach, far too big for the road, had stopped traffic in both directions as it tried to negotiate a bend. I have imported this different model from the company website.

Finally we were ensnared on Silver Street where the Honda in front of us skilfully negotiated a turn leaving us enough room to follow suit and pass the tailback who had no idea what they would soon encounter.

A rainbow blessed us on Brockenhurst Road and we eventually

reached our goal where I tucked into a beef burger and chips while Jackie enjoyed her cheese and onion toastie and matching crisps.

When we arrived rain fell filling the lakes and the muddy pools on the approaching gravel paths. Each fisher sported a large umbrella unfurled as we left for home, pausing en route to observe

the waterfowl on the banks of Ballard Lake.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s succulent lemon chicken, her colourful savoury rice; tender broccoli stems; and tangy macaroni cheese with which she drank Wairau Cove Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc 2022, and I drank Paarl Shiraz 2022.

The Coven

This morning Jackie attended a periodic meeting with her two sisters, Helen and Shelly, affectionately known as the coven, where they no doubt discuss “toil and trouble” and all things nice.

As usual Jackie packed some sandwiches for my lunch into the fridge and left me to my reading, which today was

Over The Bridge

which I posted later.

We have for a while been to no avail searching out a clump of fly agaric toadstools which we expected to see at Moyles Court.

On her way home she spotted them hiding down a different slope. Some relatively new; others flattened, aged, and somewhat nibbled.

The very mild autumn has given New Milton’s abundant displays of Canna lilies and begonias an extended lease of life.

Elizabeth visited us this afternoon for tea, cake, and conversation.

This evening we all dined on Red Chilli’s excellent takeaway fare, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Graves

Over The Bridge

In 1955, when he first essayed into the world of autobiography, Richard Church was already a well established author.

At birth, in 1893, he had entered a world of gas lights, lamplighters, muffin men, horse drawn cabs, solid-tyred bicycles. His first eight years overlapped Queen Victoria’s last.

Living near enough to walk to The Mall, young Richard witnessed the queen’s coach in her diamond jubilee procession of 1897 and four years later her funeral.

His life therefore heralded a new millennium and all the changes that went with it.

As befits the poet the writer was, his splendid descriptive prose of flowing, resonating, language is so beguiling as to render it beautiful for itself, quite apart from his sensitivity to his memories.

He writes honestly with considerable insight into the family relationships in the family of four, including his beloved parents and brother Jack. Despite flaws, imbalances and darknesses we are in no doubt of the joy in the household. Church’s analyses of all their personalities are candid and credible.

I won’t attempt to précis the work, but so say that his depictions of the London of his time, including starting of in Battersea and move to Dulwich resonate strongly in the Londoner in me; tossing up sycamore leaves and watching them gyrating and rocking to the ground we all played helicopters, except that Church had no word for them when the flying machines had not yet been invented; the five year old’s magical awe when, provided with his first spectacles, he could recognise sharp detail in the world around him, is palpable.

This acutely myopic and sickly child gained access to a Convalescent cure because his father gained access to the Civil Service Medical Officer who made the referral which strengthened the boy despite it being a traumatic wrench over the residential period.

The drawing which appears on the book jacket is of The Author in Later Life by Robert Austin, R.A.

The author’s philosophy of life is woven into this first volume of autobiography. It is enough of a recommendation that as soon as I have posted this, I will open the next one.

Wind Subsided, Rain Persisting

I took advantage of the one brief sunny spell after lunch to admire the completion of the Back Drive clearance outside the Back Drive gate that Martin had continued with during yesterday’s Storm Babet.

This provided us with a really good rear entrance.

On the way there I photographed a few post-storm views. As usual each image in each gallery bears its individual title.

The day was so warm that the waistcoat I wore over my shirt was surplus to requirements.

When I came to collect my camera for a later forest drive, I found that the battery needed charging. This meant that my chauffeuse needed to double as Assistant Photographer, carry her camera, and produce all the following pictures.

From the bridge over the stream under Church Street, Boldre she photographed the stream; an English Longhorn bull in a field; Heywood Mill House; and ivy seeds.

On Pilley Street we encountered the usual group of Shetland ponies.

Mushrooms filled with water at Norleywood, where some of the many rhododendrons were now in bloom, at the same time as blackberries.

The broken tree further along the road must have come down in the slightly less recent storm.

Although the temperature remained warm later this afternoon, increasingly steady rain reached a violent crescendo before we arrived home.

Our grandfamily returned soon after dark from another house hunting trip to Scotland, fortunately having avoided the Red Weather warning due to hit the area.

This evening we all dined on second helpings of yesterday’s baked gammon and macaroni cheese meal with the addition of crunchy carrots; and the same beverages.

Denzil’s Challenge To The Rescue

With gales raging outside all day I was grateful to Denzil for his Autumn Colours Nature Challenge, giving me the opportunity to search my archives among brighter days.

Here are the details:

Autumn Colours For Denzil

This afternoon I read more of Richard Church’s absorbing autobiography.

Our dinner this evening consisted of tender baked gammon, Lyonnaise potatoes, and macaroni cheese topped with tangy tomatoes, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Cheval de Montenac Graves 2019.

The Sixth Of Our Second

This afternoon Jackie drove us to Ferndene Farm Shop to stock up on vegetables. Signs of the season in their displays outside the shop included

a Happy Halloween greeting, large pumpkins, firewood in the form of kindling and logs, and autumn cut flowers.

We continued on a forest drive, where

two of the English Longhorn cattle along Forest Road appeared to have developed a corkscrew.

Along Braggers Lane some of the field horses now wear rugs for protection from the colder weather.

We progressed to Jackie’s favourite pumpkin outlet, a cottage on Fish Street, where she chose one of a more suitable size for a pie.

Along Ringwood Road a pair of brick gateposts sported pumpkin heads.

This evening of the sixth anniversary of our second wedding, we dined at The Lazy Lion in Milford on Sea. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that the publican is now the man we new from the Monkey Puzzle pub in earlier days.

He has refurbished what was the Red Lion retaining all the original features of the 18th century building, renamed The Lazy Lion to distinguish it from others of one of the post popular pub titles we have.

Jackie, who was our photographer this evening, photographed a few of the features, including rings in the ceiling and the wooden floors.

The service was friendly, efficient, and allowing us as much time as we needed.

The food was first rate, not rushed, and perfectly cooked.

Here are Jackie’s images of her chicken burger meal, my swordfish steak, and the shared bowl of onion rings. When we both ordered these onions we were rightly advised to share one because of the quantity.

I drank a tasty Garnacha and Jackie drank Amstell.

The gentle background music was pleasant and unobtrusive.

A friendly woman from another table volunteered to photograph us on our special day.

We forgot to photograph the excellent desserts of sticky toffee pudding and ice cream, and Bailey’s flavoured bread and butter pudding and custard.

Bournemouth Barclays By Way Of Boston

Early this morning I watched a recording of last night’s rugby World Cup quarter final match between France and South Africa. Fortunately for England who meet the winner in the semi final I think they have a marginally better, albeit very slender, chance of beating them than the team that lost this one.

Bournemouth having been pinpointed on the map in today’s Antiques Road trip – before I went to sleep, that is – reminded me that I had forgotten to mention the mission for which Jacqueline had volunteered during her visit on Saturday.

When we recently changed cars we were informed by the dealer that a refund of road tax on our old Modus would be sent automatically by the DVLA. Nothing could be simpler, it seemed.

Not so.

The tax has, of course, to be paid on line. This is paid from my bank account. Jackie is the registered car owner, in her previous name of Stockley. She has never changed the name with her bank, which is Barclays.

Mrs J.M. Stockley therefore received a cheque for the required sum. All nearby branches have been closed during the last few years. She does not do on line banking. The nearest open branch is now at Bournemouth, eleven miles away.

Needless to say there is no telephone number on the DVLA paperwork.

My sister, who banks with Barclays and lives at Boston in Lincolnshire, has taken the cheque and Jackie’s bank details home with her to pay into her branch on her sister in law’s behalf.

This afternoon I began reading “Over The Bridge” by Richard Church.

This evening we all dined on tender roast lamb; boiled new potatoes; firm cauliflower, broccoli stems, and al dente mange tout followed by apple pie and vanilla ice cream, with which Jackie drank more of the Lieblich and I finished the Cabernet Zinfandel.

On The Beach

This morning I watched a recording of last night’s rugby World Cup quarter final between Ireland and New Zealand, and this afternoon that between England and Fiji.

The rest of the day was spent completing my reading of

The copy I inherited from my Auntie Ivy contained a strip of glued

paper which I used as a bookmark.

Even before I reached “Here he learned for the first time of the Russo-Chinese war that had flared up out of the Israeli-Arab war….” on page 9 I had the sense that we were to be embroiled in a disaster to humanity displaying Shute’s prophetic facility. He only pinpointed one aspect of a world bent on self destruction, but did so chillingly, especially bearing in mind where we are at the moment on so many fronts.

We have a love story set against the background of the surge of radiation relentlessly progressing from the north to the south of the globe, where humanity is not expected to survive more than an ever decreasing few months.

With so many echoes of people’s responses to today’s various crises the author warns of what could be to come. His protagonists respond variously with scientific research, denial, resignation, planning for a future they cannot expect to have, partying, and preparation.

The compelling story keeps us gripped and scarcely daring to hope that all will eventually be well. The natural world may survive, but will humanity?

This evening we all dined on succulent roast chicken, fried potatoes and onions, meaty gravy, crunchy carrots, firm broccoli and Brussels sprouts., with which Jackie drank more Lieblich and I drank Doom Bar.