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This morning we awoke to a garden dripping with decorations supplied by the Christmas fairies, some of whom still flitted among the trees:
This afternoon we are off to Lyndhurst for the last of the Christmas shopping, then on to West End to visit Mum then share a meal with Elizabeth at Jewels Indian restaurant. I don’t expect to have enough oomph left on our return to post any more to day, so will report on anything of moment tomorrow.
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This morning I printed some pictures for Christmas presents, which it would be premature to publish here.
This afternoon I scanned another batch of colour negatives from early 1986.
During that prolonged winter, Sam’s and Louisa’s expressions show quite clearly how cold it was when Matthew, dubbed by Louisa ‘the best big brother ever’, took them out for a buggy ride from Gracedale Road.
It was clearly much more cosy when he read them a story.
At 10.19 one morning Louisa bounced up and down, possibly trying to dislodge her mother and brother from bed. Sam was not impressed. The bedside lamp was made from a stone hot water bottle gained from our ‘Mudlarking’ days.
That year snow lay on the ground for the first three months. It would have been after that when Jessica, Sam, and I spent a week in Mary Dewsberry’s holiday home in Haslemere. The evidence for this is the farm track up which we walked on a recce. Last year’s bracken and autumn leaves lingered in the country terrain.
This may have been the occasion when we discovered that the two children both had allergies to horses, the touch of which caused their eyes to swell up alarmingly.
Under the cloak of a little coppice, Louisa made a diving effort to reenter her mother’s womb. Sam insisted that there was room for two.
Mary’s son, Nick, and his children Jack and Dora, welcomed Sam and Louisa into their boat maintenance crew. Louisa made a quick recovery after her early tip-up, and everyone set to with gusto.
This evening, Jackie produced succulent roast duck, suitably reduced spinach, boiled potatoes, and crunchy carrots and cauliflower. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Western Cape Fair Trade shiraz 2015.
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Jackie delivered me to New Milton Station this morning for me to catch the train to Waterloo for lunch with Norman. I didn’t get a seat until Southampton. I was lucky; many didn’t. The man in the foreground had recently received a replacement hip. At Southampton Central four more coaches were added, but they brought another load of cattle with them.
Norman and I met at La Barca, just around the corner from the side entrance to Waterloo Station on the Taxi Approach Road. The brief walk across this road, down the steps to Spur Road, and round to Lower Marsh is, on a sunny day, not a pretty one. Today wasn’t sunny.
The wall opposite the station offers a view containing the forest of cranes that is a fairly common view in the capital today.
Taxis ply their trade in both directions,
also queuing along Spur Road.
Baylis Road, opposite the end of this, runs past Westminster Millennium Green, featured a number of times since it was described by Steve White as ‘A Beautiful Setting’. The Italian flag flying on the right of this photograph shows how close the restaurant is to the station.
This protective cage may seem a little excessive, but it hasn’t escaped the graffiti merchants.
The lingering touch of autumn does its best to brighten Baylis Road where brickwork is receiving the attention of workers on a large telescopic platform.
The cheap and cheerful Chicken Valley rubs shoulders with the more upmarket La Barca doing its best with seasonal decorations. The snowflakes on the ground are in fact gobbets of chewing gum, found on many of our pavements and station platforms.
This young gentleman dined alfresco.
Across the road the La Cubana’s stall was taking a delivery from an open van.
Norman and I preferred to eat in comfort. We each enjoyed a superb leek and potato soup followed by a splendid veal cutlet served with an asparagus sauce, truffles, and roast potatoes. Our shared bottle of wine was an excellent house red Montepulciano. I needed nothing more to eat later.
The outside temperature shown on the car dashboard when Jackie collected me from the return train at Brockenhurst was 13 degrees. No wonder I felt overdressed.
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Aaron of A.P. Maintenance has recently completed the last section of fencing, and reorganised the compost bins. Today, he and his nephew Rory took away some of the resultant rubbish. This photograph is one of the few that I was able to take today in sunshine and with a dry camera.
During the rest of the day I was in and out to the garden attempting a few photographs of plants enjoying the sunshine and the showers. Perhaps only the duck and the frog were really in their element. The rain bejewelled primulas, daffodils, camellias, clematis cirrhosa, hellebores, iris, pulmonaria, and faux poppy sat for me quite nicely.
By mid-afternoon I conceded victory to the wind which enforced such rapid changes in the skies that all this last batch of pictures were produced within minutes during which rain fell continuously. Clouds rolled rapidly across the Heavens, sometimes concealing, sometimes revealing the sun
throwing its glowing light on this holly trunk against a sludgy bank of cloud.
This evening we dined on minced beef pie, creamy mashed potato and swede, red cabbage, crunchy carrots, leeks, and onions. I finished the merlot.
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Today, Jackie Jackie drove us to Louisa and Errol’s at Mapperley Top, a suburb of Nottingham. When I say today, I mean all day – all eight hours. Rather more than anticipated.
As we travelled along the A35 we imagined the autumn leaves may have all fallen by the time we returned three days ahead.
As we progressed along the M25 we were reminded that we were on the Heathrow flight path, as several planes passed overhead. In another sense the motorway itself was a flight path, being the thoroughfare through which so many people flee from London for the Cotswolds on a Friday
when the first of what were to be several queues began. The speeds shown above the traffic are those that will keep the traffic moving. The huge container vehicle shown on the left, having crossed over chevrons, was about to fill the gap between us and the car in front. The reason for the queues is that most drivers ignore the posted limits and continue until they have to stop. This is termed a standing wave.
Soon we came to a standstill.
This was the first of many. They at least gave us the opportunity to look at the scenery.
Periodically raptors hovered above.
We stopped at Newport Pagnel Welcome Break Services for lunch at Burger King.
Half an hour later we continued the journey which was to take another four hours. This is because we faced 17 miles of road works necessitating a lane closure. We spent more time studying the back of Davis Haulage van than we usually do studying ponies’ rear ends in The New Forest.
It took a long time to reach a Traffic Officer
warning traffic that a small van had broken down.
The further north we travelled the more wind turbines we saw.
Shortly before sunset the clouds darkened over the motorway.
Eventually we turned off at junction 26 and headed for Mapperley, as shown on the map. Then, like rats in a maze, we drove all over the place seeking something we recognised. We sought local guidance. Only then did we learn that there were two Mapperleys, and that our goal was on the other side of Nottingham. Errol phoned and advised us to go straight through the City Centre. We did that and I found familiar ground. It was dark by then.
We enjoyed a splendid evening with the family. Louisa cooked us a wonderful paella with garlic bread and salad. She and I drank Chateau de Grezels cahors, 2013. Jackie’s beverage was Fosters, and Errols, Stella.
To follow was watching Jessica and Imogen performing with Nottingham City Gymnastics Club for Children in Need TV.
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On a day of winds fit to threaten lingering autumn leaves like those on our crab apples, Jackie drove us to our GP surgery at Milford on Sea for our flu jabs (influenza vaccines).
Down at the coast, vociferous waves crashed onto breakwaters and rolled onto the shore and over the sea wall.
Even the gulls found huddling on the car park tarmac preferable to facing the buffeting elements.
Dramatic skies, seas, and lighting effects gave yet another perspective to the Isle of Wight and The Needles.
When I had my fill of being coated in salt water in the interests of my art, I rejoined Jackie in the car, and did my best to clean the camera lenses.
We then continued on to Friars Cliff beach where we brunched at the cafe.
Here the breakwaters also took a pounding,
but four walkers and a couple of romping dogs ventured onto the beach.
The smaller of the two dogs had a debate with its owner about whether it was possible to take refuge in the cafe. This somewhat obstructed my entrance.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s chicken marinaded in piri-piri and lemon; roasted vegetables, steamed cauliflower and Brussels sprouts, with mashed potato, I finished the madiran.
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The bright sunshine that tempted us out for an early drive through the forest was to last all day.
Beams searching their way into the trees picked out the browns, the golds, the greens, and the greys of the season.
while dog walkers shared the bracken coated moors with browsing ponies.
Sunlight slashed the road skirting Holmsley on the way to Burley.
I am no good at cars, so I cannot identify either the old or the new models passing each other here. No doubt a reader will oblige. (Cue, Barrie). (Barrie responded to his cue and put this on Facebook: ‘As to the cars, the old one is what looks like a bog standard Austin 7 albeit quite an early one (1920s) as it does not have a rear fuel tank. The newer one at first I thought was a Volvo (new cars all look the same to me!) but expanding the picture shows what looks like a round red badge on the grill so I believe it to be some sort of Jaguar, but I stand to be corrected!’)
There are a number of golf courses in the New Forest. As we passed one just outside Burley, I notice both ponies and putters on the green. By the time Jackie had parked the Modus and I had walked back, the golfers were moving on, to another tee on the opposite side of the road. I pointed out to one that a ball lay in the ditch. He thanked me, hooked out the ball with a club, and joined his friends who were surrounded by a similar equine audience.
Undeterred, the sporting trio teed off.
Another group of three ponies dozing on the verge of Burley Street had not moved by the time I returned from a wander down Honey Lane.
The lane, pock-marked by pitted pools, was more hospitable to Land Rovers than to our little car, so Jackie parked up and left me to it.
We took a rest and a late breakfast at The Hyde-Out Cafe. My choice was a Full English, while Jackie’s was fried eggs on toast. That took care of lunch, too.
There were warning signs informing drivers that pigs were roaming free, but just beyond Gorley it was a cyclist who hogged the centre of the road.
A more sensible female equestrian kept her steed to the edge of it.
Not so a group of donkeys, one of whom held eye contact through our windscreen until the helpful horse nudged it and its friends aside, and continued on its way.
A free Forest pony, sporting Regency style ringlets, observed all this with interest.
As we approached Godshill, a helmeted cyclist employed staccato stop-start attempts to lead his family across a road junction. He alternated between calling them forward and sending them back, as he made the same movements. To our relief, he was eventually successful.
We made our way home via Roger Penny Way, one of the major thoroughfares traversing the forest.
This evening we dined on beefburgers with caramelised onions on a bed of roasted vegetables; mashed potato; carrots, cauliflower, spinach, and Brussels sprouts; followed by Jackie’s tried and tested pumpkin pie with whipped cream that had been bought and paid for. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden, while I quaffed Cono Sur Bicicleta pinot noir 2015.
Barrie and Vicki dropped in this morning to present me with Barrie’s new book, ‘Walking in the Sea’. I look forward to reading it.
Ever since my lingering cold in August, I have been feeling decidedly under par, so Jackie persuaded me to visit the GP, made the appointment, and drove me there. After a thorough examination, Dr. Moody-Jones formed the opinion that I have a specific infection and prescribed antibiotics. I have confidence in the diagnosis. We’ll see how we go.
On a very sunny afternoon Jackie drove us through the forest. We enjoyed wood- and heathlands, and the livestock that, having right of way in the New Forest, roam the terrain and the roads.
Pools, such as this one formed near Bolderwood, are beginning to varnish the forest floor.
We stopped for a while near the Ornamental Arboretum.
Next stop was Nomansland where ponies grazed on the green,
where the lowering sun cast long shadows and glinted in the animals’ eyes.
The matted, crusty, hide of some of these creatures bore evidence of how muddy their environment has become.
As we drove back along Roger Penny Way, a grunting sow followed by squawking offspring, clambering all over each other in their haste, burst through the bracken, dashed along the verge, and came to a halt among a heap of fallen leaves and acorns. They were just like the proverbial pigs in a trough. I was amazed at the amount of noise they made.
At one point the mother left her brood, advanced on me, and, her nose rings grating on my toes, snotted all over my light tan brogues. Eventually she realised they were not acorns, and returned to the trough.
On the approach to Beaulieu, a group of cattle, and one pony, grazed on the heath in the warm glow of the setting sun.
Just before we reached the village, rounding the bend in a narrow road, we came hard up against the reason for a bit of a hold-up. A donkey, its rear hooves planted in the road, calmly chomped in a hedge.
This evening we dined on roast lamb, mint sauce, roast and mashed potatoes, carrots, cabbage and corn on the cob. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I abstained.
Today dawned with fog, and remained overcast. Yesterday was apparently the warmest November day here since records began, and it wasn’t much cooler today.
Work continued in the front garden. We gravelled the widened side path with the last of the shingle left over from the back drive. My contribution was to transport barrow loads of the material for Jackie to rake smooth. I then brought down the sixteen bricks needed for a third pillar, and handed them to the artist who built it. Just in case anyone thinks these are marvellously cemented creations, they are dry brick pillars. Still marvellous, of course.
Jackie reshaped the green maple near the patio.
I added the branches to the growing heap now lining the back drive. This time, making a change from combustion, we intend to hire what Aaron calls a chipper to mulch them.
This afternoon we made a start on clearing the carpet of beech leaves, and weeds, in the rose garden, in preparation for composting the soil.
Observing how many leaves are still to fall, Jackie gave me the epithet Sisyphus Reincarnate.
Behind the black bag in the bottom left of the picture spreads a pink carpet rose.
Penstemons, such as this delicate pastel pink, planted for variety among the roses, are thriving.
The first Sisyphus was John, who gardened at Minstead.
This evening we dined on roast belly of pork topped with mustard and almonds; crisp cauliflower and cabbage; and boiled potatoes. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I drank Funnel Blower, a ‘dark vanilla porter’. This latter tasted of chocolate. Not a good idea.
