agapanthus – derrickjknight

Raindrops On Everything

The wind and rain returned with a vengeance today and beset us until late afternoon.

Knowing what we were in for last night we lay down the patio chairs and furled the three garden parasols.

During a slight lull in the deluge I photographed raindrops on agapanthus, sweet peas, gladiolus, pelargoniums, fuchsia Garden News, dahlias, hostas, lilies, begonia, rose Festive Jewel. As usual each of these is individually named in its gallery which can be accessed by clicking on any one. Each can be viewed full size by clicking the box beneath it and further bigified with another click.

I was born 7 weeks premature in Leicester General Hospital in 1942, which must surely mean that I am lucky to be here. That is the same length of time that these Japanese anemones have sprung early into life.

We have four little toy ladybirds whose wings swivel in the wind. The top one of this pair among the Erigeron, pelargoniums, and fuchsias outside the kitchen door has reached the end of its clockwise rotation after which it turns anticlockwise; its companion has just begun.

The sidalcea in the Oval Bed simply bowed before the blustery blasts.

This lily in the West Bed was protected by a shrubbery canopy.

An iron urn at the entrance to the Gazebo and Brick Paths, and a chimney pot on the lawn are two planters benefiting from the recent rain.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s sublime sausages in red wine; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy carrots and broccoli; and tender runner beans with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Pinot Noir.

Our First Meal Out Post Lockdown

This morning’s early light presented us with

glorious garden views from our upstairs windows.

At midday I accompanied Jackie on the big Tesco fortnightly shop; sat reading in the car while she did the business; unloaded the trolley into the car; emptied the purchases into the kitchen, then washed my hands.

This afternoon Jackie took the sprinkler on a whistle-stop tour of the garden, while I took my camera on another.

I pictured begonias, petunias, allium, hemerocallis, phantom hydrangea and phlox, all images of which are named in the galleries that can by accessed by clicking on any one. Each photograph can be viewed full size by clicking on the box beneath it, then further enlarged if necessary by repeated clicks.

Bees have shown themselves to be partial to these alliums.

Outside Bramshaw, on a drive to the north of the forest, we encountered ponies ignoring flies; sheep steering clear of the equine droppings; and donkeys keen to approach us in the hope of treats.

It was the Lamb Inn at Nomansland that had the honour of providing us with our first meal out since the recently partially relaxed coronavirus lockdown began.

My main meal was a tender rib eye steak with a bucket of chips and French fried onions; Jackie’s chips in a bucket were of sweet potatoes served with her haloumi burger. Mrs Knight drank Diet Coke and Carlsberg while I drank Timothy Taylor’s Landlord beer.

Naturally Jackie photographed the hanging baskets and

the sign in the outside dining area which had me wondering whether I was meant to use the letter box.

“It Tells So Many Stories”

My early morning walk to open the back gate for Aaron displayed

various beds, yucca, evening primroses, Welsh poppies, petunias, hollyhocks, a bee using a bidens as a trapeze, phlox, agapanthus, gaura, a Large White butterfly on a verbena bonariensis, and lilies in the Rose Garden. As usual the individual images are labelled in the gallery which may be accessed by clicking any one and viewed full size by clicking the boxes underneath them then further enlarged.

Later, Nugget Junior 2nd demonstrated his prowess at darting to catch insects on the wing. We really hope he hasn’t seen off his Dad.

Before he left I printed copies for Aaron of a couple of photographs I took of him last week.

He really likes this portrait, as do I. “It tells so many stories”, he said. Most of my pictures of him go into an album which he could use, should he ever have the need, to advertise his work as A.P. Maintenance. This one will be framed and hung on his wall.

Our friends, Barbara and Adrian Chapman, sent as an e-mail attachment a copy of this well composed and executed oil painting by Adrian, based on one of my photographs and a Google street view. I particularly like his use of colour and the turn of the neck of the foreground pony, and am honoured to have provided the inspiration.

This afternoon I offered a certain amount of assistance to Jackie with the general garden maintenance. My tasks were dead-heading, pruning under instruction, and cutting up material for the compost bin.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s sumptuous savoury rice; spicy pork paprika; and pork ribs in barbecue sauce, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Squinzano.

An Eye On Proceedings

Regular readers may know that our downstairs loo is designated ‘Print Room’ because that is what the walls carry.

She already has a copy of this one from “Christmas at Downton”, beside her computer station. Today, at her request, I printed another to be enjoyed at her convenience. This time I toned the colour saturation down a bit.

The Head Gardener worked hard on clearing and planting phlox in the rock hard Palm Bed. I transported clippings to the compost.

Nugget kept an eye on proceedings, darting to snap up any escaping insect prey

and warning bees off the nearby agapanthuses.

At the end of the day the Head Gardener transmogrified into the Maintenance Department and

framed the new print, after which, as Culinary Queen,

she produced our dinner of pork chops in sage and apple stuffing; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy carrots and Roman broccoli with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Saint-Chinian.

Drawing, Painting, Retouching

My ten year old granddaughter, Imogen sent me these drawings by e-mail yesterday. I think her line, her shading, and her composition are exceptional.

Today we had a visit from another artist, in the form of John Jones making one of his occasional paintings of the garden.

The day was seriously hot and humid as John set about his drawing in the Rose Garden. We had been predicted a 78% chance of a shower at midday. Sure enough, a brief spell of rain arrived on time. Fortunately our friend was soon able to continue.

Raindrops adhered to several of the roses, especially For Your Eyes Only.

The agapanthuses in the Palm Bed had opened more than they were yesterday.

Jackie produced a splendid salad lunch, after which we enjoyed John’s Lindeman’s Chardonnay 2018 on the patio.

John needed a cap as the sun beat down this afternoon while he developed his painting.

Today’s retouching of the 1926 prints is one of Grandpa Hunter, Mum, and her brothers, our Uncles Ben and Roy. No-one looks very happy.

John, on the other hand looked quite pleased with his day’s work.

This evening Jackie and I enjoyed a second helping of Hordle Chinese Take Away’s excellent fare with which she drank Blue Moon while I finished the Fleurie.

The Lady Of Shalott

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This morning I made this crop of a photograph taken at Burley in May, and Jackie turned it into a birthday card for Bill, whose party we were to attend later.

Among the various tasks carried out by Aaron was heavily pruning a spent philadelphus.

Bending the branches took a bit of effort.

This fuchsia Delta’s Sarah is spreading along the west side of the patio.

A stand of petunias,

and these rather splendid potted lilies prepare for the arrival of the base for the greenhouse to be delivered during the week.

Dahlias continue to enliven the borders,

and the first Japanese anemones are springing up.

The agapanthuses are coming along nicely,

while the New Zealand hebe now attracts the bees, eager to fill their pollen sacs.

Priscilla, the frilly gladiolus is coming through in the New Bed;

roses like Peach Abundance are having another flush;

and paler pink echinaceas have risen to join the darker red ones.

This afternoon we travelled by car to Poulner where we enjoyed Bill’s birthday party. We sat and conversed in the pleasant company of Helen and Bill’s children David, Rachel, and John; Rachel’s fiancé Gareth and John’s wife Stephanie and their children, Billy and Max; Gareth’s mother, Mo, and stepfather Fred; Shelly and Ron; and. of course the birthday boy and Jackie’s sister, Helen.

Gareth got the barbecue going, taking us through the smoky stage.

John took over to give him a chance to clear the vapours from his eyes.

Between them they produced a variety of roasted meats to go with the salads prepared by the ladies.

Here is a group of the male guests reflected in a window.

Great aunts eagerly took it in turns to cuddle two and a half month old Max.

Jackie handed him to her younger sister

who eventually handed him back to his mother whose hands he explored.

Bill was his usual engaging self,

and, in a tub filled with plastic balls, his young namesake did a passable impression of Tennyson’s Lady of Shalott as painted by many Victorian artists.

I mostly drank a fine Argentine malbec, and sampled a splendid strawberry trifle and cream tea scone for dessert.

Salt Marshes

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Early this morning I walked around the garden to survey the elemental damage. The review of the situation was actually encouraging.

The nicotiana and agapanthus staked up a couple of days ago have perked up;

as have the white gladioli,

and the surviving Priscillas

in the New Bed.

When we arrived, the clematis Campaniflora in the front garden rambled over all the other plants, including numerous brambles. We cut it down drastically. It has set off again and is now, the tiniest such bloom we have, dancing with abandon.

The Hot lips salvias are similarly enticing.

The gauras, and heucheras have just bent gracefully with the wind.

This clematis at the top of the Agriframes arch, an unnamed bargain from Lidl, has proved sturdy enough.

On the strength of that pleasant surprise, we enjoyed a drive around the forest. We didn’t visit Buckler’s Hard, which featured on 12th January 2013,

but peeped through the fence at others who were doing so as we drove past.

St Leonard’s Grange is one of the fifteen barns that once served Beaulieu Abbey. There is not much of it left at Beaulieu St Leonard’s. Just one and a half gable ends and one and a half walls. At 300 ft long and more than 50 ft wide it was one of the largest in Europe.

Here are part of the roofs of a newer building.

I found some nearby farm buildings equally photogenic.

Further on past Sowley, we ventured down a dead end road called Tanner’s Lane. This led straight to a shingle beach we couldn’t drive onto because this is what it was:

These were the salt marshes we had seen from the cruise boat out of Lymington Marina,

which was, in turn, even in the hazy sunlight, visible from here;

as was Hurst Castle,

and The Needles, demonstrating that the castle is on the nearest mainland point to the island.

An empty boat bobbed among the buoys.

Here is yet another view of the Isle of Wight and The Needles, for the delight of Mary Tang.

We will shortly leave for Barry and Vicki’s home in Poole. We are to try out the Isan Thai restaurant in Parkstone Road. Anyone who wishes to be informed about our gastronomical investigation must defer their gratification until tomorrow.

Privilege Customer

No matter how thorough you try to be in pulling up and eradicating brambles, there are always some that catch your eye as you wander around. For this reason I went on a bramble hunt today. Some, by now, are announcing their presence with blossom and budding fruit; others are so long and straggly they make you wonder how you missed them. So skilled in the art of camouflage are these thorny ramblers that I was constantly amazed at how much space was opened in the shrubberies simply by removing them. No doubt if I repeat the process in a day or two, I will be equally surprised.
Jackie continued weeding, watering and planting.
Among the recent discoveries more welcome than the unwanted growth have been echinops, agapanthus, and honeysuckle whose pink blends quite well with the blue arch around which it clambers.
Not knowing what colour to expect, we have been eagerly awaiting the blooming of the hibiscus in the front garden. We were not disappointed by its interesting pink hues.
For a late lunch today we visited the Needles Eye Cafe in Milford on Sea. Jackie enjoyed a cheese omelette, chips, salad, and diet coke; whilst I, once I had jogged the waiter’s memory, relished a maxed-up breakfast with tea. This large fry-up comes with toast and marmalade. For the second time, my toast was forgotten. I assured the staff member that I did not take it personally as I was not paranoid.
We had not been to this beach in hot holiday weather before, so it was something of a shock to walk to the path at the top of the shingle and be confronted by a picture postcard scene. ‘Oh, yes. We live here’, we said.
After our meal Jackie drove us on to Stewart’s Garden Centre at Christchurch and back. Just before my last trip to France, I had signed up for a Stewart’s Privilege Customer card. One of the benefits of this is that you may buy two samples of specific plants at half price. The choice changes monthly. The July selection is agapanthus. After dropping me off at the airport on 8th July, Jackie hot wheeled it off to Stewart’s to choose her agapanthuses. She found two marvellous full-budded specimens. Taking out the coupon from the monthly magazine, she proffered her pennies. She was asked for the Privilege card. Ah. It was in my wallet in Sigoules.
The card is now safely in Jackie’s purse, so off we had gone to choose some more of the perennial blue plants. Unfortunately there were only a few, decidedly past their best for this year, left. Never mind, we could still have two of them – and we found two that will do very nicely next year – and, in compensation for their condition, a clematis also at half price. we chose Inspiration ‘Zoin’.
This evening I wandered down to the postbox. A lily has escaped into the hedgerow in Downton Lane.

The Drain

Setting off in the steady rain that passes for summer 2012, for Wimbledon Station en route to Waterloo to meet my friend Tony, I realised I had left my camera behind. Ever the optimist, I went back for it. The owners of the agapanthus in Maycross Avenue had no fear of a hosepipe ban, but I was slightly anxious for my Canon’s electronics. This time I had no doubt; my persistence with sandals was definitely sheer stubbornness. The soles are now worn quite flat and becoming somewhat slippery on the wet pavements.

EDF’s claim on the Waterloo concourse would so far seem to be in vain

Yesterday I mentioned my first annual salary. This was earned in the old Lloyd’s (insurance) Building. It had contained the original ‘Room’ where all the underwriters carried out their business. By 1960, when I began, a second Lloyd’s building, which has itself been superceded, had been built, and my building was occupied by the back room boys, such as me. I dealt with marine insurance claims under the management of Mr. Goodinge, who once gave me a collection of his excellent shirts; and alongside people like Ray Denier who took seven wickets on his first turn-out for my cricket club, and Ian Frederick Stevens, otherwise known as IFS, who was a soulmate for a while. More importantly, my secretarial work was done by Vivien, who was to become my first wife. When the time comes I will write a post about Vivien. This building, known as ‘The Dome’, had no natural light. You could never tell what time of the day or year it was, or what the weather was like. It was here that I knuckled down to what I was assured was a secure pensionable job. This, then, was more important than strange concepts like job satisfaction. By correspondence course I set about qualifying for the Chartered Insurance Institute and thought that would be my job for life. It wasn’t until I became a twenty three year old widower with a baby son that I knew I could do this no more.

The insurance world held me for the first six years of my working life. I commuted daily on the very route, but on very different trains, that I used today; first from Raynes Park, then after marriage and the purchase of a first house, from Wimbledon itself. The trains in those days had carriages with which viewers of period dramas will be familiar. During the rush hour those carrying commuters from Waterloo into Surrey would become packed. One evening two of my classmates who made such a journey were the first to occupy one of the compartments. Each stationed at one of the windows, they pulled grotesque faces and leeringly beckoned to other would-be passengers to enter. In that way they kept the seats to themselves. One evening, travelling back to Raynes Park, the train became fogbound. We remained stationary right outside my home for an hour and a half.

The first three of my years of employment were spent in Leadenhall Street. From Waterloo mainline station it was necessary to travel on ‘The Drain’. This was the name given to the Underground journey to Bank station. I can’t quite remember how it worked, but, at one end or the other of this daily grind there was a long tunnel through which thousands just like me tramped to their destination. You had to go at the pace of the slowest. It felt like a scene from a film about zombies or prisoners of war. Looking back this seems an awful mole-like existence. But security was all, and we made our own fun, pulling each other’s legs and taking some amusement from misprints in memos and the joys of the German language. The Westmonster Insurance Company caused some glee and we became hopelessly incontinent whenever we came across the shipping company whose name sounded like ‘dampsheepfarts’. There were side streets off Leadenhall Street with provisions stores, probably long since demolished to make way for the huge temples now erected in further homage to Mammon. I remember a butcher’s which, at Christmastime had turkeys hanging up like a film set for ‘A Christmas Carol’. (In fact what I remember is probably the still extant Leadenhall Market entered from Gracechurch Street – added 22.12.2020)

On the train today I began reading John Le Carre’s ‘Single & Single’.

This evening we drove down to The Firs. Traffic was very slow on the A3 until we had passed Guidford, because of intermittent heavy rain. Before arriving at Elizabeth’s we stopped off at Eastern Nights in Thornhill for an excellent curry meal