Ramblings
On another day when the weather behaved like a grizzling infant I deleted from my library all the pictures from
Yet none from
nor
each of which bears just a selection of the collection.
Then I turned my attention to ‘The Brontës’.
This evening we dined on flavoursome fish cakes; piquant cauliflower cheese; boiled potatoes; crunchy carrots; tender chopped cauliflower leaves and green beans, with which I drank more of the Malbec.
All I managed to delete today was one picture from
Afterwards I read more of ‘The Brontës’.
Once storm Hermione eased off this afternoon, we took an optimistic forest drive.
Broody skies and damp, pool-laden landscape meant that we saw no
sign of wildlife except a few damp ponies on the outskirts of Burley.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s most tasty liver and bacon casserole; boiled potatoes; crunchy carrots; and firm Brussels sprouts, with which I drank Valle de Eco Malbec 2024.
Although Storm Eowen raged outside the sun shone inside as, first
Andrew Sharp brought back the small Victorian Captain’s chair which had belonged to Jackie’s grandmother and he had returned to its original strength, then
collected our Victorian rocker in need of re-glueing joints and recovering the under side of the stainless steel sprung seat.
I had e-mailed Norman’s Heating with details of our boiler malfunction when they were closed yesterday – Sunday – afternoon. Before Andrew had driven away, not yet 10 a.m., Nathan, the heating engineer, was ringing our doorbell. After I gaped at him and showed him in, I checked my e-mails to find one asking if it was OK for him to come very soon. Clearly it was. He fixed the boiler issues.
Next, it was the turn of Matthew Fairhurst of Dials Antique Clocks to deliver and set up our long case clock on which he had repaired the broken hands and carried out a complete service.
Here he displays the cleaned up workings;
and here he carefully sets it up. The first picture shows him listening intently to the ticking notes. Then he sets the correct time and current position of the moon. The importance of tracking the phases of the moon and description of the young lady who also appears in the window above the dial is shown in https://derrickjknight.com/2016/02/05/phases-of-the-moon/
This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty pork casserole; boiled potatoes; firm carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, and Brussels sprouts; and moist spinach with which I finished the vinã Albali.
I have tried not to focus on our central heating problems during our current wintery weather; suffice it to say that we have had very few radiators working until this morning. Now we don’t have any. We sit swathed in layers of clothing, blankets and hot water bottles. I will try not to mention it until we are warm again – otherwise we may have to emulate J.K.Rowling who wrote her Harry Potter books in a café because she couldn’t heat her home.
In view of the number of pictures that have appeared in my recent posts, I now have far more in my collection than when I started culling, so I thought I had better get on with some of that.
I deleted just one from
six from
two from
and seven from
This afternoon I read more of ‘The Brontës’.
We dined his evening at The Smugglers’ Inn at Milford on Sea where Jackie enjoyed roast turkey, crisp roast potatoes and a share of the perfectly cooked mixed vegetables which I also relished with my Cullen Skink pie. The service was friendly, attentive, and efficient. Mrs Knight drank Diet Coke and I drank Doom Bar.
This afternoon, taking advantage of a temporary cessation of the heavy winds due to return tonight, we took a drive to the North of the forest.
We couldn’t be sure about the theme of the latest yarn decorations on the Tiptoe Post Box, but the heart on the chest might indicate the upcoming Valentine’s Day.
As we approached Rockford Sandpit we needed to avoid a bale of hay which had clearly fallen off a farmer’s load and now occupied the middle of the road. When we returned an hour or so later it had been moved onto the verge and two forest ponies, their feet on the tarmac,
were chomping away and causing chaos to passing vehicles, one of
which was driven by Debbie Riley, who, perhaps because she works with horses, brought common sense to the situation.
As I said to her, even if I had thought of what she did I could not have managed it, because I would have lost my balance and fallen over.
Aware of the possibility of being bitten, Debbie lifted the bale, no mean feat in itself, carried it across the road and through the trees to the bank of the stream. Fortunately the strap was still attached. This meant that the ponies, their numbers certain to have been increased, could have continued their consumption, being safe in the darkness of the unlighted road.
These first two watched Debbie carry away their spoils,
hoovered up scraps, and wandered off, simply accepting that their find had been removed. We had both expected them to follow, but they didn’t.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s tasty pork casserole; boiled new potatoes, moist spinach; crunchy carrots; firm Brussels sprouts; and tender green beans with which she drank Diet Coke and I drank Viña Albali Gran Reserva 2017.
This afternoon Jackie drove me to visit Giles and returned to join us for a while later.
One of my friend and my reminiscences was of his garden in Penn Street where Matthew, hidden in a cherry tree which he shook,
facilitated this blossom storm photographed by me in May 1983; much more pleasant than storm Eowen raging further north today.
Later, I read more of ‘The Brontës’, before we dined at Rokali’s where I enjoyed Ceylon duck and special rice, while Jackie did the same with Saltanat chicken and salad and a little of my rice; she drank Diet Coke and I drank Kingfisher. Everything, including the service, displayed its usual excellence.
The cold, overcast, weather continued throughout the day until we set off late in the afternoon for a forest drive, and someone turned on the light, so we headed for Hatchet Pond where we would likely see a cormorant on a post. In the event, the bird remained in deep shade and we were diverted anyway by a man and little girl walking down the slope with the intention of feeding the ducks.
Jackie photographed them and the swan, donkey, and a gull bidding for the food.
She also caught the cormorant on the far bank as she pictured another donkey.
This is my gallery of the scene. The fist brandished by the man in the fourth picture is an attempt to shoo off the donkey. These animals appeared from nowhere. The woman in the last picture used much more voraciously violent vehemence to banish them all.
Apart from chatting to one donkey seen in my gallery above, she
focussed on gulls in flight
and the swan on the water.
She also caught donkeys in silhouette against the sun.
After I photographed the lower sun tinting the thatched roof
and the pony on Furzey Lane,
we diverted to St. Leonard’s Road where we waited for a promising sunset; the first two images of which are mine, and the third, Jackie’s.
This evening we dined on succulent lemon chicken and wholesome savoury rice with which I drank more of the merlot.
On another cold, overcast, morning we transported another 12 bags of garden refuse to Efford Recycling Centre
and returned with two white folding tables to add to Jackie’s work station behind the shed.
I spent so much of the rest of the day with ‘The Brontës’ that when The Culinary Queen called me for dinner – consisting of her wholesome shepherd’s pie; firm carrots, Brussels sprouts, moist spinach, and tender green beans, with which I drank Reserva Privada Chilean Merlot 2022 – I was on the brink of the halfway point.
On a somewhat brighter afternoon we drove to the west of the forest where there are more farms than moors.
Daffodils were emerging from the grass on Neaton green.
I photographed this sky and trees from Hawthorn Road, beyond which
the field flocked with Canada and Egyptian geese, infiltrated by a large cygnet from the
neighbouring grassland on which Jackie focussed before she pictured
the tree line and clouds behind the Canada and Egyptian geese.
Further towards Bransgore we parked beneath a Buzzard; the first four images in this gallery being mine, and the last three, Jackie’s.
Finally I photographed a rookery,
and Jackie produced an image of me in action on my perch.
This evening we dined on hot and spicy lemon chicken baked with varicoloured peppers, on a bed of the Culinary Queen’s wonderful savoury rice, with a side of tender green beans with which she drank Diet Coke and I finished the Merlot.
As we set out on a forest drive this afternoon grizzling rain added gentle tear-drops to the similar elements we have experienced over the last few days.
Along St Leonards Road many old trees with hollows in boles were decorated with tree fungus;
they stand atop mossy or stony banks;
and carry branches adorned with various lichen.
We have passed this decaying trunk many times since it was first broken by fierce winds some ten years ago.
All along the road more than four and twenty blackbirds flitted across
our path. This one sat posing on a fence post.
It was a solitary egret that flew off into the distance to settle fishing among reeds,
before we paused to watch a face-off feigning a jousting match between two cock pheasants.
A weak sun sent us on our way having briefly brightened branches against the otherwise slate-grey sky.
After more time spent with ‘The Brontës’, I dined with Jackie on her wholesome shepherd’s pie; boiled potatoes, cauliflower with its chopped leaves; Brussels sprouts, carrots and broccoli. The Culinary Queen drank Diet Coke and I drank more of the Merlot.