Preparing For Nick And The Dump

After more overnight rain we have enjoyed pleasant summer weather today.

This morning we loaded the car with bags of garden refuse for dumping tomorrow. Jackie moved our vehicle to the back drive in order to leave space at the front for Nick Hayter who will begin his painting in the morning.

During the rest of the day I produced and published

The Heroic Poems Of The Elder Edda

This evening we dined on succulent roast duck breasts with crisp skin; crusty Yorkshire pudding; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm Brussels sprouts; and tender cabbage, with meaty gravy. This was consumed from our sofa whilst watching the fourth day of the second Test Match between England and West Indies.

The Heroic Poems Of The Elder Edda

This is Part Two of Book One of Legends of the Ring, taken from Patricia Terry’s “Poems of the Elder Edda” which she has translated apart from three versions from Elizabeth Magee. “compiled in Iceland round 1270 by an anonymous collector or copyist, the collection contains poems composed somewhere in Scandinavia during the tenth and eleventh centuries”. (Magee)

“Originally the poetry collection had no title. The name Elder Edda was adapted from the term Snorri Sturluson coined: Edda, which he used for his own prose work recounting Scandinavian pre-Christian beliefs…..the poems are clearly older than the prose, even if they were written down later……The poems fall into two main groups. One is a set of mythological poems, which we shall return to later. The second group is heroic, and it is these poems that interest us here.” (Magee)

These poems tell the story of Sigurd and his dynasty as mirrored by the Saga of the Volsungs, expressing the key moments and emotions in a much more beautifully poetic manner than could the prose narrative.

Whoever has been primarily responsible for the poetry in this book has presented luscious, flowing, language with a love of alliteration following the original expressive form of verse. Highlights of the story display intense emotions of passion, drama, and action, linked together with short prose passages.

Leaving the details of the tale for those wishing to read for themselves, I can say that these poems are in four groups: Of Heroes, Swanmaidens and Valkyries; Sigurd Ascendant; Sigurd’s Death; Death of the Niflungs; and End of the Line.

As has been seen in https://derrickjknight.com/2024/07/12/the-saga-of-the-volsungs/ myth plays a large part in the sagas.

“Swanmaidens fly through the air wearing their feathers; once they have landed, however, they set their feather cloaks aside and become as other women. A mortal man can gain power over a swanmaiden by hiding her feather cloak so that she can no longer fly away. ……….

….”the valkyries are Odin’s wish-maidens, who ride through the heavens, sway battles, select those heroes selected for Valhall, and serve the inexhaustible brew of ale to them when they arrive. Some are said to be Odin’s own daughters….” (Magee)

I offer a few phrases from the verses in order to illustrate the complexity of the alliterations:

“Blades were burning in bloody wounds,/ Long swords lowered….” from The Lay of Hakon

“He set bear steaks to roast on the fire -/ high blazed the faggots from seasoned fir trees,/ wind-dried wood, warming Volund.” from The Lay of Volund

“……….Grani’s bride/ gold-bitted, good at galloping; ” from The First Lay of Helgi Hunding’s Bane

“What kind of fish can swim the falls/ but fails to ward off woe?” from The Lay of Regin

“few things worry a worthy king” from The Lay of Fafnir

The poetry is rich in simile and metaphor.

Advice given to Sigurd by Sigrdrifa, the valkyrie in her eponymous lay is almost identical as that of Brunhild in https://derrickjknight.com/2024/07/12/the-saga-of-the-volsungs/

Here are Simon Brett’s muscular illustrations pertinent to this section.

Why Budge? The Road Belongs To The Hoof

Soon after lunch we took a forest drive in hot temperatures between overcast clouds beginning to leak intermittent drizzle which called upon little stirring of the windscreen wipers until gradually requiring more regular rhythm, especially when large blobs gathered on branches splashed down beneath trees.

Heather is now colouring the moorland as seen on a slope at Crow Hill and the verges of Holmsley Passage

hugged by walkers as we passed.

A pony and foal grazed beyond the house at the bottom of the hill. Note the brand on the mare’s shoulder.

The pony planted on the road at Mockbeggar disdained to move from the time we approached; when Jackie negotiated us around her; while I disembarked to photograph others; to the time we departed. She may be there still.

Perhaps she considered there were too many equines and bovines on the green already.

One unfortunate animal blended freckles and flies.

Other carloads of people also disembarked to wander with the ponies;

a young heifer joined in the fun.

Cattle dotted the landscape alongside Abbotswell Road where an intriguing path led into the inviting woodland.

A very new donkey foal on Blissford Hill, its mother apparently unconcerned further up the slope, seemed unaware that anyone might be expecting it to budge.

Did you remember to note the earlier brand? Neither of the foals with branded mothers have yet received one. Their turn will come at the next annual roundup, known as the drift, when all ponies have a health check. https://derrickjknight.com/2016/08/30/the-drift/

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pasta arrabbiata with tender broccoli in bowls in front of the TV whilst watching highlights of the second and third days of the second Test match between England and West Indies.

East Gable End Carpentry

Having measured the east end gable yesterday morning, James Luke of Crafted Carpentry returned today to carry out his stage of the work.

He parked along the back drive where he cut the material to shape. His Dad, Nick arrived in time to wait

to help lift the large sections of the eaves into place.

In sweltering heat James completed the job on his own.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s moist rigatoni Bolognese sprinkled with Parmesan cheese, and tender green beans, with which I drank Chapter & Verse Shiraz 2023

Floral Provenance

On an even hotter day than yesterday I took my camera on a walk around the garden this morning.

We are not always sure how some of our plants arrive. This poppy is certainly a self seeded volunteer, but we don’t know about the red hollyhock. It could have been from a seed scattering exercise by either Flo or Jackie last year.

The colourful little lysimachia Firecracker is a plant bought by Jackie after she had seen one in Elizabeth’s garden given by Frances.

Pollies Day Lilies, very nearby, is the home of the National hemerocallis Collection. Some of ours have been bought there.

Delta’s Sarah and Mrs Popple are two of the many fuchsias planted by Jackie that have proved to be hardy in our garden.

This small white hydrangea will grow bigger. It is a cutting from a larger plant Jackie bought from Lidl some time ago.

Years ago our Head Gardener bought phlox plants from pity benches in centres like Everton. They all now thrive under her nurture, as do

various clematis, some of which we inherited,

as we did numerous moon daisies and several hostas.

When we converted a heap of rubble and rubbish including a buried bath complete with taps into the Rose Garden we had a free run to select roses like Roserie de l’Hay, For Your Eyes Only, and Créme de la créme largely for their scent;

low lying lavender, rambling bee-attracting sweet peas, and tall lilies provide variety in that plot.

Some dahlias we have planted, other flowers were in situ when we arrived ten years ago; examples of these are

red and yellow Bottle Brush plants.

Crocosmias red Lucifer and golden George Davison and their neighbouring penstemon are all part of our replanting of the Palm Bed.

This evening we dined at Rokali’s where I chose Jaipur special prawn; and Jackie, Poneer Shashlik. We shared a plain paratha, special fried rice, and Tarka Dhal. I drank Kingfisher and Jackie drank Diet Cola. A truly serendipitous event gave us rather more than we bargained for. As the waiter served us he tipped the rice bowl over so that much of it ended up on the table cloth and my serviette. He took a clean cloth and began scooping it up to dispose of it. The table and everything else was unsoiled. I encouraged him to sweep it onto my plate, saying I was more than happy to eat it rather than have it wasted. It seemed to me quite a result in that any mess I made of the cloth could be blamed on this event. Even better – he did this and gave us a new bowl of rice. Ultimately we couldn’t eat it all and were given a doggy bag to take home. Another good outcome. Also, great fun was enjoyed by all, including other customers.

Needless to say the food was all very well prepared and otherwise efficiently served. The waiter, a family member we had not met before, finished by helping me to my feet.

Oar Point Memorial

The weather has changed again. Today was hot and sunny. This morning Jackie drove me to Sears Barbers in Milford on Sea where I had my hair cut; after lunch we took a trip out to the forest.

Ponies in traffic along Sowley Lane gave me the opportunity to focus

on the verge’s prolific ragwort swarming with bees.

Convolvulus now covers all the hedgerows, like this along St Leonard’s Road,

where bees also plunder the bramble blossom which has simultaneously produced early fruit.

Oar Point Memorial faces the Solent beyond which lies the Isle of Wight, seen through haze this afternoon.

Forest Fields by Michael Renyard

was today adorned with red carnations nodding to red poppies on the little wooden crosses.

Looking down towards Bucklers Hard we noticed a new sign to the museum featured in https://derrickjknight.com/2013/01/12/the-olden-days/

With the heat comes desperate ponies trying their best to protect themselves and each other from flies. These at East End also disrupted the traffic.

One driver vainly clapped in an effort to shift them, until a cyclist dismounted and persuaded them with more success.

A yacht weather vane in Rowes Lane is possibly pea green.

The stand of kniphofia at the front of the Walhampton Arms is extended more each year.

This evening we dined on cheese-centred fishcakes; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; and tender spinach and green beans, with which I finished the Appassimento

Memories Are Made Of This

Giles Darvill, who Jackie and I first knew more than fifty years ago, is my oldest still living friend. Having once worked in Kingston Social Services together we have now been near neighbours in two villages on the verge of Hampshire’s New Forest for more than a decade.

This morning I visited him at his home in Milford on Sea where we enjoyed congenial reminiscences.

A Knight’s Tale (61: Soil And Heating From Battersea)

In particular we derived much enjoyment from recounting memories of the time featured in the above earlier post. Incidentally I was later to work in Westminster Social Services with my late friend Maggie Kindred (then Cook) who lived in one of the Dolphin Square flats pictured in that episode of the story of my era.

One of our pastimes during this period was playing chess on a glass table marked out as a board. This was my camera’s view of my opponent on the opposite side.

Ten years later we were to visit Covent Garden Market with Giles and his son Ben; Becky and Matthew, Sam and Louisa

I have a number of stained glass artefacts made for me over the years by my friend, including the chessboard which was a 50th Birthday Present.

In May 1983 Jessica, Sam, Louisa, Matthew, Becky and I visited Giles and his family at their home in the village of Penn Street near Amersham. The children experienced great glee in a cherry blossom

snow storm manufactured by Matthew who had stealthily sneaked up into the tree and given it a good shaking. Giles still has a framed copy of one of these images.

It was a little less than two years ago that we took

Coming Clean

our last walk together, as detailed in this post.

This evening we dined on well cooked baked Gammon; creamy cauliflower and broccoli cheese; crunchy carrots; and soft spinach, with which I drank more of the Appassimento.

St Swithin’s Day

This morning Jackie visited Helen and Bill, delivering our brother-in-law’s birthday present.

Driving via Holmsley Passage she returned with photographs of very wet ponies and a windscreen dripping with raindrops. The rain continued throughout the unseasonably cold day.

“A standing joke worldwide is the English preoccupation with the weather. So how did it come to pass that the English summer should be determined by a long dead Anglo-Saxon Bishop?

“St Swithun’s Day (or ‘Swithin’ as he is also known) is the feast day of a ninth century Anglo-Saxon Bishop of Winchester who died in 862 AD. Swithun was born in the Kingdom of Wessex (an Anglo-Saxon Kingdom in the South-West and the precursor to the unified Kingdom of England) and educated in Winchester, the Kingdom’s capital.

“Little is definitively known about Swithun’s life although he is said to have been the spiritual adviser of Æthelwulf, King of Wessex, who donated much of his royal land to Swithun to build and restore numerous churches. Swithun has also been suggested as the tutor of Æthelwulf’s son Alfred, which would fit chronologically at least, since Alfred was born in 849 AD. Alfred (right) then went on to become the mighty ruler of Wessex and the only English monarch to date to be bestowed with the title ‘the Great’, so a good job well done by Swithun you could say!

“With his link to the town of Winchester, Swithun is unsurprisingly well remembered across the south of England and particularly in Hampshire. However, St Swithun is also honoured as far afield as Norway, where he is commemorated at Stavanger Cathedral. St Swithin’s Lane in London and St. Swithun’s quadrangle at Oxford University’s Magdalen College are also named in memory of the saint. His feast day is also familiar to fans of David Nicholl’s popular novel ‘One Day’, which has now been adapted for the big screen (with surely one of the most questionable Yorkshire accents of all time courtesy of Anne Hathaway!).

“However, whilst Swithun was a popular bishop, his only known miracle during his lifetime was the repair of a basket of broken eggs, dropped by a flustered lady of his parish on unexpectedly encountering the Bishop. His enduring legend is due to events after his death on 2 July 862.

“With his dying breath Swithun is said to have requested that his final resting place be outside, where his grave could easily be reached by both members of the parish and the rainfall from the heavens. Swithun’s wishes were met for over 100 years. However, in 971 when the monastic reform movement had been established and religion was once again at the forefront, Æthelwold of Winchester, the current Bishop of Winchester, and Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, decreed that Swithun was to be the patron saint of the restored Cathedral at Winchester where an impressive shrine was built for him.

“Swithun’s body was removed from its simple grave and interred in the new Cathedral on 15 July 971. A shrine to the Saint remains in the modern Winchester Cathedral to this day.

“According to legend, forty days of terrible weather followed, suggesting St Swithun was none too happy with the new arrangements! Ever since, it has been said that the weather on 15 July supposedly determines the weather for the next forty days, as noted in the popular Elizabethan verse:

“St Swithin’s day if thou dost rain
For forty days it will remain
St Swithin’s day if thou be fair
For forty days will rain na mair” 

(As rain pelted down on my head, shoulders, and camera this soggy morning, I received a sense of what we are in for. One picture will perforce suffice).

“Less spectacularly, the superstition may have evolved from pagan beliefs around the changing weather of the Midsummer period. This can be explained today by the patterns of the wind currents bringing weather fronts across the British Isles, known as jet streams. When the jet stream falls to the north of Britain, high pressure systems (usually associated with clear skies and calm weather) are able to move in. In contrast, when the jet stream lies over or beneath the British Isles, arctic air and low pressure weather systems are more common and bring cloudy, rainy and windy weather. Indeed, across Europe there are Saints who are believed to exert a similar influence over the weather, such as St. Medard, St. Gervase and St. Protais in France on 8th and 19th June and St. Godelieve in Flanders on 6th July.” (https://www.historic-uk.com/CultureUK/St-Swithuns-Day/)

This evening we dined on Jackie’s liver and bacon casserole; crisp roast potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm Brussels sprouts; and tender green beans, with which I drank Christian Patat Appassimento Rosso 2022 which I was given at yesterday’s party.

Birthday Garden Party

Until the welcoming committee of Danni, Elizabeth, Ella, and Jack burst into singing Happy Birthday I had not realised that the invitation for us to meet at my sister’s was for my benefit.

A fine spread of cold meats, salads, quiche, and warm sausage rolls followed by cup cakes made by the children, strawberries, and a summer fruits tart; with a cool refreshing white wine filled the dining table. We all tucked in with relish then sat on soft seats when I received presents including well selected drawing materials from Elizabeth in an effort to persuade me that my hand was rather less unsteady than I thought. The first of the pictures labelled Bunting Workshop in the later gallery demonstrated that she may to some extent be right.

Although Jackie will snack later, I have no further need to do so.

Afterwards we adjourned to the warm and pleasant sunshine of the garden, where we admired the

flowers flourishing in their beds. Each of these is entitled in the gallery.

Ella and Jack enjoy being wrapped up in the garden map. Their G-Ma, as all three of her grandchildren call Elizabeth, duly obliged.

Bees and butterflies are attracted to the flowers. I photographed bees on alliums and a comma butterfly on a buddleia while Jackie tracked a Red Admiral from plant to plant.

The Bunting Workshop mentioned earlier was in honour of our country’s European Football Final match this evening against Spain. In the last of these images Ella displays her three lions in the rain.

Named by the family as Stinky Flower, this member of the Marguerite family earns its epithet enough for me to be unsurprised that it attracts flies.

When this partial eggshell dropped by a passing avian landed on the lawn Ella wrapped it up to take to school.

Finally, when I was pretty well all in I photographed the aptly named rose Tottering By Gently, “Named to celebrate the 25th anniversary year of Annie Tempest’s classic weekly cartoon. First published in Country Life magazine in January 1994, Tottering-by-Gently depicts the everyday capers of Dicky and Daffy Tottering, and their family, at Tottering Hall.” (David Austin Roses)

Now, honour bound, I am settling down to watch the football match.

Scaffolding East End

Last summer’s rain put an end to the refurbishment of the outside of the house after the west end gable had been completed.

Scaffolding West End

Tony and Cole of Solent Scaffolding had erected the west end scaffolding on 8th July.

Only now has it been possible to pick up the work again on the east end gable. This time Tony’s companion was Matt.

Together this is what they achieved today.

This afternoon I watched the Wimbledon Ladies’ final between Barbora Krejcikova and Jasmine Paolini.

This evening we dined on Southern fried chicken; onion rings; chips; baked beans; and mixed veg.