December 2023 – Page 3 – derrickjknight

Hanging On For Christmas

This afternoon, before another encouraging Chiropractic session with Eloise, I wandered around the garden in the sunshine.

This winter flowering cherry was to be expected, but the Welsh poppies were a surprise. I thought it best to leave a few seedheads.

Numerous bidens and Roxanne geraniums seem to be continuing for ever.

Light shone through leaves such as viburnum plicatum, Japanese maple,

and Cordyline Australis;

throwing shadows on the Brick Path, Florence sculpture, and the trunk of the copper beech tree.

Holly berries, hebes and viburnum shared the season.

Roses Festive Jewel, Kent, Doris Tysterman, and Super Elfin are hanging on for Christmas.

This evening we all dined on tasty baked gammon; piquant cauliflower and broccoli cheese, tender green beans and mangetouts; and what I grew up knowing as macaroni cheese which I gather is now Mac and cheese, with which I finished the Fitou and Jackie drank Diet Pepsi.

Another Lengthy Novel

Gale force winds lashing rain from murky skies into our windows sent me into another lengthy novel, namely Stendhal’s “The Charterhouse of Parma” during the morning. I was then so deeply into it that I ignored the afternoon’s sunshine. It is 46 years since I last read the book, but I am sure I will relish it once more.

Later, I produced a set of Grandfamily photographs in front of the decorated tree from which Flo and Dillon will select their Christmas card. Not wishing to pre-empt their own publication I am not posting them today.

This evening we all dined on Red Chilli’s excellent takeaway fare. My main course was prawn vindaloo with which I drank more of the Fitou.

My Early Life By Winston S. Churchill

How is it that a self-confessed schoolboy dunce should have risen to, long after his death, be voted by a public poll “The Greatest Englishman”?

The seeds are perhaps sown in this set of memoirs taking us from his infancy to the status of 26 year old Member of Parliament for Oldham. I finished reading it today.

Presented with engaging humility despite the arrogance of privilege, we see his intelligence, his resilience, his resourcefulness, his integrity, his at times reckless courage, and sheer stubborn determination.

His first serious injury was incurred a the age of ten in crazy family competition; his schooldays were not happy; his greatest enjoyment came from battle, whether in war or in seeking a place in parliament. The challenge of risking death seemed a driving force.

As a young soldier espousing the honourable conflict of an earlier age Churchill regretted the passing of gentlemanly warfare according to understood rules with sword and pistol; he rued the introduction of science as a weapon. Nevertheless he spent these early years seeking war zones across the globe with unashamed manipulation and delight. He escaped death with considerable ingenuity and sheer luck on more occasions than he perhaps deserved. He regarded war in the same light as sport; he was an intrepid polo contestant, participating in the winning of a number of trophies.

The writer’s descriptive prose is straightforward and very readable. As he often combined the roles of war correspondent and serving soldier there is much detail of the conflicts in for example Cuba, India, and South Africa, which does not appeal to this reader. Other aspects of his life are of course inextricably involved with this. He fought, ruthlessly, as hard as he could, but respected his opponents and believed in forgiveness and generosity in victory.

The header picture is the title page and frontispiece of my Folio Society edition of the work, first published in 1930.

Neil Gower’s front board design incorporates some details of the plentiful photographs in the book, which also contains a number of maps. Max Hastings’s introduction is usefully informative.

This evening we all dined on cheese centred fish cakes, either smoked haddock or cod and parsley; sautéed new potatoes and leeks; crunchy carrots; tender mangetouts; and piquant cauliflower and broccoli cheese, with which Jackie drank more of the white Zinfandel and I drank les four vents Fitou 2021.

Across The Park

Late this morning Jackie drove me to my appointment with Chiropractic Eloise Moody, who showed me the x-rays of my neck and explained their story with the aid of a model. The upshot is that she is able to halt the process, and ease the pain, but not reverse it, which is pretty much what I had hoped for. We began a course of treatment which will continue on Monday.

Afterwards I took a walk through the park opposite. Squelching through sward, still soggy from another night of rain ceased this sunny day

I photographed graffiti across the green, including passers by, a man seated on the brick wall beneath the artwork, and a standing mobile phone user.

The dog of the man in the second picture frolicked with two friends, one of which attempted to snot my trouser leg.

Two friends asked me to photograph them.

I was able to walk from the art-wall through a private car park to Station Road and thence to the public one where my Chauffeuse awaited.

This evening we all dined on slow-roasted rolled breast of lamb; crisp Yorkshire pudding; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm Brussels sprouts, broccoli, and cauliflower, meaty gravy, mint sauce, and redcurrant jelly, with which Jackie drank more of the white Zinfandel and I drank more of the Garnacha.

The Tree

On another day of steady rain descending from slate grey skies, through my window I watched daytime headlights streaming along the glistening Christchurch Road and decided not to get wet by going out to photograph them.

Instead, I spent most of the day with Churchill’s “Early Life”.

Flo, on the other hand, continued her Christmas tradition carried out, apart from a few years in America, that has been her

decorating Granny’s tree since she was two years old.

This evening we all dined on further portions of Jackie’s chicken curry meals with which I drank more of the Garnacha

Christmas Carols

On a bright, sunny, and chilly morning Jackie drove me to Sears Barbers in Milford on Sea for my haircut.

The shop is opposite the green where all the regular Christmas decorations have been renewed.

The post box can be seen from the barbers.

Alongside the two decorated boxes stand the car park bollards.

While I wandered among the fresh craftwork I was entertained by a group of melodious carol singers.

The three kings, shepherds, angels, sheep, lambs, and Mary and Joseph with the crib were all newly painted.

Benches and waste bins all bore new decorations;

the wicker deer may have survived intact from last year.

Many of the shops sported festive windows.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s authentic Chicken Jalfrezi, with Butter Chicken for Flo and Ellie, and savoury rice, sprinkled with cropped coriander, and parathas, with which I drank Hacienda Uvanis Garnacha Old Vines 2020.

Freckles (2)

On third successive day largely overcast but cooler I took a walk round the garden to see what I could find.

Trees were silhouetted against the midday sky, while birds flew overhead.

A few flattened limp leaves had succumbed to the cold.

Apart from the winter flowering Cirrhosa clematis “Freckles”, enjoying a brief moment of sunlight,

the nearest to prolific flowers was represented by the increasing lichen on the Nottingham Castle bench.

The peach climbing rose photographed a couple of days ago is past its peak but has a few buds waiting to take its place; the pink Generous Gardener bravely persists, as do yellow Absolutely Fabulous, Festive Jewel, and another pale pink climber.

In addition we have pansy-like violas, out of season hebes, bacopas, penstemon, and hydrangeas.

This evening we all dined on second helpings of last night’s Chinese takeaway meal with added spare ribs. Jackie drank more of the White Zinfandel, and I finished the Carménère.

A Thorough Examination

Aged 18, straight from school in 1960, I was introduced to the somewhat harder reality of Old Wimbledonians rugby.

The tallest in the back row of the Extra A (third) team was where I began; soon to be tried in the second where I was tackled simultaneously by two heavies who sent me crashing to the hard ground on my left shoulder. I rose to my feet, swung my arm round a bit, and packed down in the scrum grasping my second row partner’s arm for support, and continued the game.

I have never recovered from this, although I did continue playing until I

was aged 45, alongside my friend Geoff Austin, for the Old Whitgiftians, when I was able to throw the affected arm out in a straight line ready to jump for the ball as it crossed the outstretched arm of the man in front.

Although I often bore pain running down from the shoulder to the palm of the injured arm, I could generally tolerate this, yet there would be periodic flareups taking me first to NHS facilities and eventually to an osteopath. Over the years I have tried steroid injections, physiotherapy, and eventually the osteopath’s manipulation, which was about 30 years ago. Nothing worked.

For the last three or four months I have been unable to move my neck left, right, up, or down. Realising I would never again manage to dance the hokey cokey – or in fact anything else – this afternoon I kept an appointment with New Milton Chiropractic clinic where I received the most thorough examination ever, including x-rays which had never before been offered. A fault in the x-ray equipment caused too much delay to permit a proper diagnostic explanation, so I will commence a series of treatment beginning on Friday, starting with the diagnosis.

This evening we all dined on Kings House Chinese Takeaway excellent fare with which Jackie and I drank the same wines as yesterday.

Brave Peach Rambler

Today was warmer, wetter, and with alleged sunny intervals.

Raindrops clung to the windows;

moody skies suppressed the sun.

I ventured no further outside than to photograph this pink rambler overlooking the patio.

Later, I began reading “My Early Life” by Winston S. Churchill.

This evening we dined on chicken Kiev, chips, and Ratatouille with which Jackie drank Blossom Hill White Zinfandel 2022 and I drank Carménère Reserva Privada 2022

Lovely Is The Lee

Today I finished reading

This is the jacket of this book, published in 1944, and consequently bearing a notice that it is produced in conformity with (wartime) authorised economy standard. It is, however of more pleasing and longer lasting materials than trade publications of today.

Here is the front board and the title page.

The Lee of the title is the river running through the city of Cork, the author’s birthplace.

Defying classification, this work is a series of memoirs, a ramble through Ireland’s history, myth, and legend; a splendid description of flora, fauna, and particularly avifauna that he encounters on his travels by foot, boat, and motor vehicle; along the way he relates tales told by people with whom he engages, and such stories of his own. Rather like the engaging stories of blogger Paol Soren, these tales are clearly a mix of fact and fiction as a vehicle for conveying his points.

With a comprehensive knowledge of natural history, a superb grasp of language, and an ability to present dialogue such as we hear the vernacular lilt, a keen eye for detail and an ability to depict this in both flowing prose and