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A Soggy-Cloud Day

When yesterday I photographed apples on the tree in the Rose Garden, this was a gentle reminder to Jackie to pick them because I can’t get into the plot. She took the hint and plucked all seven today.

We normally eat our lunch from plates resting on our knees on the sofa while watching Antiques Road Trip, through which I invariably doze off. Today we watched the final episode of Freddie Flintoff’s Field of Dreams, for which I kept awake, and later posted

Freddie Flintoff’s Field Of Dreams

On another miserably wet, windy, soggy-cloud day the parasols once again were tied up and chairs laid on the ground. I then read more of ‘The People’s Act of Love’.

This evening we dined on Shepherd’s pie topped with potato slices; tasty Brussels sprouts; crunchy carrots; and tender spinach, with which I finished the Cötes du Rhöne Villages

Freddie Flintoff’s Field Of Dreams

Anyone with an interest in cricket would have known from his prowess on the field that Andrew Flintoff has a big heart. By the end of the 2005 Ashes series there was no doubting its generosity

when this iconic photograph of him consoling Brett Lee went round the world after the Australian had narrowly missed winning the last game.

To appreciate the truly inspirational six part BBC iPlayer Television series named in this title neither understanding nor sympathy for the game is required.

Flintoff, identifying with a disparate group of underprivileged and underachieving boys from his native Preston, gathers them together and forges a supportive and ambitious collective from youngsters with a range of difficulties and conditions through the experiences and challenges he gives them, never forgetting where he came from, and treating them as equal human beings. With his honest style he is both challenging and supportive in encouraging them to find their own potential.

Many of the youngsters had presented behaviour resulting in school exclusion or difficulties impeding their learning; one in particular had managed alone to battle his way as a fifteen year old non-English speaking immigrant to this country; their ethnic and religious backgrounds vary.

None has ever played cricket before. Most challenged Freddie and his friend Kyle with disruptive or isolating stances. The two men’s straightforward approach, especially Flintoff’s well-timed one-to-ones with struggling individuals makes the game a metaphor for life.

Slowly we see a bunch of hopeless and isolated young men meld into a group looking out for each other and for Freddie himself as he battles to come back from an almost fatal, life changing, injury that set back his programme and delayed the planned trip to India for more than a year.

Flintoff was honest with the group about how much he was himself learning about other worlds and cultures from the trip to India into which he and the lads fully engaged. Indian food, beliefs, customs, and every aspect of culture were so alien to boys from Preston council estates, yet they all learned so much from their experiences and returned to England with self-confidence and hope they had never experienced before. The programme closes with an update on the success most of them had begun to experience on their chosen paths in life.

Freddie’s message had been that it was up to each of them to find their own wishes and strengths, regardless of what these were. Months after their return these had not been abandoned. Just two are likely to have a career in cricket – others are embarking on different metiers. They continue to meet as a group.

Although some may need to become accustomed to the Yorkshire accent no viewers will miss the warmth and ultimate joy of this series.

Pursuing Potting Up

Sunlight shadows in the kitchen beckoned me outside this morning.

Jackie has been buying myriads of bulbs and potting them up in the last few days.

With the aid of a rusting sack barrow she has transported them to prospective sites, such as

this collection on the north west corner of the patio. The pot in the first image above in the gallery above is destined for the plinth recently bought from the Efford Recycling Centre. The black paint spilled on that is presumably why it was dumped.

This afternoon we scoured the garden centres for suitable slabs to cover the plinth, and eventually found a couple at Redcliffe Nurseries. The pot may have to reside over winter in the greenhouse. An owl has been left keeping watch.

An earlier support from the dump now contains a pot of violas; the recent acquisition awaited its flowers until this evening when Jackie filled it with violas and Erigeron keeping daffodil bulbs warm. It now stands on the patio.

The bulbs are all labelled in their currently over-planted containers, such as the one beneath the Gazebo; the one spilling over with heuchera and begonias; and the one marked Tete-a-Tete.

The Gazebo clematis warranted its own photograph, as did

the view from the Stable Door, the Brick Path, and the Japanese anemones above the wooden mushrooms.

Beds worthy of attention were those named Weeping Birch and Dragon; the first waiting for climbers to cover its eponymous trunk, the second featuring seasonal Michaelmas daisies.

There are two scenes of the Rose Garden and another of the apples to which it plays host.

Later, I watched the penultimate episode of ‘Freddie Flintoff’s Field of Dreams’.

After leaving Redcliffe Nurseries we continued into the forest by way

of Holmsley Passage flanked by moorland landscapes.

Scampering pink pannage piglets grunted and snuffled in the woodland beside Bisterne Close.

On such a sunny Saturday afternoon a number of cycling families like this one outside Burley required careful negotiation to pass giving them adequate space.

A deer speeding across Forest Road was rather too quick for me.

This evening we dined on a meaty pork rack of ribs in barbecue sauce; Jackie’s colourful vegetable rice; and tender green beans, with which I drank more of the Côtes du Rhône Villages.

More Recycling Years Ahead

Now it has dawned on the Southampton General Hospital urology team that I have lacked information since my procedure six weeks ago, I am receiving a plethora of calls. In today’s I was given a date and time for a telephone appointment with a urologist. I informed the caller about Nick Lewis’s call yesterday. She did not know about this and we agreed that I no longer need the new one.

In the four days since our last dump trip Jackie has filled 13 more spent compost bags with green refuse which, along with an old ceramic cistern once used as a breeding ground for mosquitos and a broken plastic plant container, we transported to the Efford Recycling centre on a much colder day with a similar, though less severe, weather pattern to that of yesterday, and, as is our wont returned with two items with more recycling years ahead of them –

a stone container suitable as a plinth when upturned, and a metal potted plant stand.

I read more of ‘The People’s Act of Love’

By late afternoon the weather had settled down and we took a brief forest drive.

Cattle and a calf occupied the verge at Pilley,

ponies having moved to Bull Hill to forage among the browning bracken landscape.

It is always advisable when confronting tractors on our narrow lanes to pull over and wait for them to pass. They are always very appreciative.

A group of pheasants crossed St Leonard’s Road in front of us

and sought camouflage in the shade of the banked verge before vanishing through the hedge.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s colourful vegetable rice; tempura, and hot and spicy prawns, with which I drank Séguret Cötes du Rhöne Villages 2022 and the Culinary Queen drank Diet Coke

Persistence Pays

On a day in which continuous fierce swirling gusts of wind whipped sudden squally bouts of rain across the glistening garden, window panes, and paving stones occasionally bejewelled by sparkling sunshine bouncing light from neighbouring roof tiles, I attempted to follow up the lack of information from the urology department of Southampton General Hospital.

Once again the number I had been given for post procedure problems was not answering. On Tuesday I had been told that an appointment date for a telephone interview with the consultant who had carried out my procedure on 21st August would be forthcoming. Attempting to follow up on this today I was kept holding with no answer.

Coincidentally at lunchtime I received a call from Abbie at PALS who had followed up the issues about my discharge on 24th with four relevant departments securing apologies and advice about contacting security to obtain porterage. I took the opportunity to explain to her my current problems with obtaining any sort of response from the unit this week. She confirmed that there had been no telephone appointment date placed on the system and will follow this up for me. I won’t stop trying to secure an answer to the number which once again doesn’t seem to be staffed.

Eventually I telephoned the ward number where I was told by an administrator that the decision meeting usually takes eight weeks from the analysis and was given the consultant secretary telephone number. That was answered with a recorded message. I left one in response. My voice has gone up a few decibels.

I started reading ‘The People’s Act of Love’ by James Meek.

By mid-afternoon the rain had ceased and the sun seemed in the ascendancy, but the wind was still fierce enough to propel me round

the garden in my rather appropriate T-shirt.

The corner of the patio containing the revamped galvanised containers; the recycled blue topped table having replaced the wickerwork chair on the West Bed; and the decking all bear evidence of Jackie’s recent planting;

the aforementioned table can be seen at the edge of the first of these Brick Path pictures, while

the Gazebo Path and the area around the old well include the recently planted urn.

The last gallery of the Palm Bed, the Dragon Bed, the crinum lilies, and the stumpery all demonstrate tidied up areas.

Later I received a call from Nick Lewis, lead nurse in the urology department. The decision making meeting actually took place on Friday. It is confirmed that I now have no cancer in the bladder, but the BCG vaccine option will still go ahead in order to reduce the possibility of a recurrence. I will receive an appointment date within a couple of days.

This evening we dined on succulent roast breast of lamb; boiled new potatoes, crisp Yorkshire pudding; crunchy carrots; firm Brussels sprouts; meaty gravy, and mint sauce, with which I finished the garnacha.

Too Patient A Patient

I am a patient man – often too patient for my own good.

It is now more than a month since my second cystoscopy and biopsy at Southampton General Hospital. The biopsy was meant to reveal what had been left of the tumour first removed in June, after which I would know whether or not the planned BCG vaccination treatment would still be the best next procedure. I had been told that the analysis would be considered in two weeks.

Yesterday I telephoned the urology department to ask about the result. I was told by the man taking the calls on the number I had been given that I had not had the procedure on 21st, because I was “not on the system”. It was with growing irritation that I spent almost 15 minutes saying that I didn’t know about his system, but I did know I had had the procedure. Eventually I demanded to speak to a urologist. They were all in clinic, but he did agree to get one to call me. I am still waiting for that call. Yes, a classic case of “Computer says no.”

I then telephoned my GP surgery, leaving a message for my doctor there. As always he rang me within ten minutes. He had received the urology consultant’s report (I had not). This revealed that there was nothing left of the tumour. Although diminishing, I have been experiencing discomfort. A urine sample has shown that I do not have a UTI, but there is blood in the urine. He therefore sent me for an urgent blood test at Lymington Hospital, which was carried out this morning.

In the meantime I called the Southampton Urology department this morning. The given number rang for ages before a breathless woman answered. She was the very capable clinician who had removed my catheter in Lymington. There was no-one to manage the phone today so the others all had to leave what they were doing in turn.

Happily, we both remembered each other and Sharon found everything on the system and confirmed what my GP had said. I still need to speak to the surgeon who carried out the procedure, make my frustrations clear, and more importantly ask what I can expect from now on. Can I trust it?

I ask you.

This afternoon I read a lot more of Ted Walker’s ‘The High Path’.

We celebrated this evening with a meal at Rokali’s where food and service was as good as ever. My choice was lamb vindaloo; Jackie’s, sizzling chicken tikka; we shared mushroom rice and cauliflower bhaji; Jackie drank Diet Coke and I drank Kingfisher.

A Visit To Giles

This morning Jackie drove me to Giles’s home at Milford on Sea and collected me at lunch time. There I spent time with my longest-standing friend and Jean, largely comparing notes on our respective health conditions. This was as pleasurable as always.

Giles gave me a print I had made for him of his reflection in a glass chess board on which we were playing in 1973.

This afternoon I completed and posted my review of

The Berlin Diaries Of Marie Vassiltchikov Part Two

This evening we dined on Jackie’s famed chicken stewp and fresh bread with which I drank more of the Malbec.

Occupying The Roads

On a warm and largely overcast morning we took a forest drive.

After I had photographed this young lady in her unusual laptop station, we exchanged thumbs up signs.

Many cyclists are on the roads at weekends in September, often with bikes attached to their vehicles. The two in the background had just emerged from Furzey Lane,

variously occupied by ponies and conversationalists. When enlarged in the gallery a fly can be seen making a bee line for the right eye of the pony blocking our way. The couple engaged in chatting with the car driver all seemed content to block one side of the road in either direction for quite some time. We had already veered round them on our way down the lane and it looked as if the man with his hand in the air was indicating we should do so again. Jackie and others were thus forced to encroach upon the opposite dwelling’s gravel entrance.

A group of ponies sheltered beneath trees alongside Beaulieu Road.

This afternoon I watched the women’s rugby match between Scotland and Fiji on BBC iPlayer; and later the highlights of the men’s T20 cricket match between England and Australia.

As I indicated yesterday, this evening’s dinner was a variation on last night’s – I enjoyed Jackie’s portion of the Peri Peri chicken kebabs, while she baked her own chicken pieces sprinkled with Batt’s BBQ seasoning – taken with her colourful savoury rice and similar vegetables.

On The Road

This afternoon we drove to the north of the forest.

Donkeys caused traffic diversions outside Bramshaw,

where we saw our first pannage pigs of the season;

another was crossing Penn Common,

populated today by ponies, cattle, sheep, a lamb, and goats.

Some of the many groups of motorcyclists we encountered formed a long arc just outside Nomansland.

For a number of weeks now, farmers have been bringing in bales of hay and bagging them up. See Sue W’s comment below, naming these as Silage bags. These were outside Fritham;

where, within the woodland,

lies Eyeworth Pond, beside which were resting one of the many groups of camping teenagers we have seen this week. We speculated that they may be between school and university.

When leaving Fritham we witnessed a string of ponies trooping along the verge.

Once back at home I watched a recording of the women’s rugby match between England and New Zealand at Twickenham, now named Allianz, the home of the English game.

This evening I dined on Braemoor Peri Peri Chicken King Kebab, with spinach and Jackie’s colourful savoury rice. Jackie meant to have the same, but a very small bite revealed that it was far too hot for her. She therefore enjoyed the accompanying cauliflower and more of the spinach. I will be having the same tomorrow when Jackie will choose to cook chicken in her own way.

Landscape And Woodland

This morning, among his other tasks, Martin installed our new waterbutt; and assembled and set up

the new arch for the wayward Compassion Rose which was determined to plough its own furrow. Having accepted that the plant would insist on its own direction we have given it a new support, since the last one had blown down. It has now been well trained.

At lunchtime Craig from Tom Sutton Heating came to check on the recently blown through pipes to the radiator beside my chair. He is of the opinion that the problem concerns the diameter of the pipes. It will need to be discussed with Ronan, who is on a week’s holiday.

After lunch we drove to the pharmacy at Milford to collect medication, and afterwards to Everton Post Office for cash, spring onions, and orange juice. We continued on a forest drive.

An interesting cloud formation appeared over the heather landscape

in which various ponies foraged.

More, including an almost full grown foal from earlier in the year, enjoyed the moisture of the seasonal pool along Bisterne Close.

Tiny yellow mushrooms pierced the ancient bank of Mill Lane among the exposed roots and ferns in the dappled woodland.

Further along the lane one of the several groups of young campers out today checked on Mill Lawn.

Later, I didn’t quite finish “4.50 From Paddington”.

This evening we dined on maple barbecue belly of pork; fried potatoes and onions; crisp carrots; firm broccoli and cauliflower; and tender cabbage with cauliflower leaves.