barbecues – derrickjknight

The Biter Bit

After lunch on this overcast and humid day we took a short drive through the forest; our route was up and down

Rhinefield Ornamental Drive,

along which travelled many cyclists,

two of whom, giving me a sense of the biter bit, stopped to photograph

a group of ponies surrounding our car which they licked lasciviously.

We were slightly alarmed at the number of barbecues flaming and smoking on the green near Boldrewood Deer Sanctuary.

Later this afternoon Elizabeth and Frances visited. Struggling with a problematic printer I produced copies of two of yesterday’s photographs for our sister-in-law. The four of us then dined at Faros Greek Restaurant in Milford on Sea where the food and service was as pleasing as on our last visit. I began with Kalamari; my main course was Kleftico; and my dessert galaktoboureko. I can’t speak for the others – after all, I have remembered the name of my sweet – except that Jackie drank a Greek beer and the rest of us shared a bottle of red wine the name of which escapes me.

A staff member volunteered to take this photograph of us all in which perspective is a little unkind.

Dragonology

Late this morning Jackie drove us to The Firs for a gardening session. A barbecue was on offer. It was a blustery day with intermittent rain. This didn’t really affect the horticultural activities, but it did mean that the barbecue was held in the kitchen.

On 15th of this month (see post) Jackie and I drove to Mapperley to spend the weekend with Louisa and Errol and their family. Unfortunately that clashed with Danni’s birthday party to which we had been invited. The event had been announced on Facebook, naturally only for the chosen few. We were honoured to be included, but had to decline. My niece had politely suggested that her guests might bring along HUGE presents. It can now be revealed that the birthday gifts mentioned yesterday were for her; a Labradorite necklace and an incised leather document case furnished with a mirror and a hair clip. It was Adam who found the clip which must have been a freebie. The leather case was, as I expect you have guessed by now, antique, probably from the 1930s. It was a bonus that, unknown to us, Labradorite is one of Danni’s favourite minerals.

We had a bit of a dilemma because the presents were really rather small, and we did want to comply with the request. They would just have to go into a huge box. A removals packing case was just the job. Placed inside a plastic carrier bag, the two wrapped presents were taped to the bottom of the large container and I hammed up the delivery, making it appear rather heavier than it was.

Elizabeth had done a vast amount of weeding last weekend, so we didn’t have as much to do as expected. We were, however, kept busy weeding, trimming edges, and mowing the main lawn. I also turned and weeded next year’s compost, which gave us the added treat of a few potatoes, which, like my French tomatoes, had grown out of the heap.

Regular readers will be familiar with my view that I’ll eat barbecued food provided someone else cooks it. Preferably as well as Ron, to whose efforts I was introduced on 26th May. I don’t relish fiddling about with charcoal and firelighters when there are perfectly good facilities in most kitchens. That is why today’s weather conditions, in that respect, were to my liking. Elizabeth roasted the meats in the oven; we served ourselves from the hobs; and sat in a civilised manner at the table indoors. The ladies had produced various salads, laid out safe from flying invaders. I don’t remember what the wines were. Danni sported her new necklace which she had donned immediately.

Another industrious activity continued today was the grand garage clearance. Danni and Andy have for some time now been engaged in helping my sister decide what to do with the contents of the annexe which has never had room for a car. They have made regular trips to the dump, and however much they take out, the space resembles the Magic Porridge Pot which always replenishes itself. This weekend they had reinforcements in the form of Adam and Thea. Much progress was made. The garage is being cleared for the Open Studios exhibition planned for late summer.

Some of the stored items actually belonged to Adam. One of these is his first dragon, whose wings have taken a battering over the years. I mentioned yesterday Flo’s interest in such creatures and her Dragonology website. My nephew, Adam Keenan, has come a long way since making his dragon with a group as a GCSE project. On 28th July last year, in my post ‘Family Pride’, I described how, in Le Code Bar in Sigoules, I had watched the Olympic closing ceremony featuring Adam’s doves of peace. Knowing he now worked making such models, and animatronics for the film and advertising worlds, I had, for Flo’s birthday three years ago, commissioned him to make her a working dragon. He had not let me down.

Reminiscing With Don

First thing this morning Don gave me a lesson in pruning tomatoes, to give me the best chance of producing a crop from my compost bin.

We then spent several hours continuing last night’s reminiscences. Don and Ann shared the Soho, Furzedown, and Lindum House Years with Jessica and me. We shared their time in Finsbury Park, Cerrigidrudion, and Bungay. During the next week we will have thirty-odd years to talk about. Much of what we ranged over is not suitable for a blog, but there is plenty that is. Taking Michael, Matthew and Becky from the mews flat in Horse and Dolphin Yard off for a day in the country at the Essex show springs to mind. Bringing happy townies back to The Smoke after a day in the verdant sunshine brought a pleasant end to a satisfying day. Don was later to help us move from Soho to Furzedown in S.W. London.

We were frequent visitors to N. Wales after Don took early retirement and he and Ann set about renovating their house on a Welsh hillside and converting the attached cowshed into a very attractive home. Many of the trees Don planted in the ‘parc morc’ (pig field) were saplings from Lindum House. Don, an accountant from Cheam, soon became a champion dry-stone waller. Ever modest, he jibbed at my calling him this, but he cannot deny he has trophies to prove it. In fact, when my family are amused at my signing off my posts with what I had for dinner I always say it is my version of my friend’s teapots. He always left some container in his walls for birds to nest in, or to bear some memento from his life. He told me today he only ever put in one teapot. I had managed to convince myself it was always teapots. Just as a child to whom you give one good experience will magnify it into a regular event.

I remember one particular barbecue in the pouring rain in Cerrigidrudion just after they’d moved there. The subsequent conversion was still a cowshed, which was just as well because that is where we shivered under comparative shelter and ate chicken, sausages, and cuts of meat with our fingers in a smoke-filled atmosphere. Much more conducive for such an event was the weather at the French gite we shared on a later holiday. Don was master of the coals.

I have mentioned that holiday before, and will save the climax for a further post. Don did remind me, however, that it was then that Sam received his first cut. I still remember my sadness at my beautiful boy having suffered his first blemish. During Siesta time, when, of course, nothing was open, we came across a broken shop window. ‘Don’t’, said I, as our four-year old made a dive for the broken glass. Too late. He grabbed it and brought some away in the palm of his hand. Which I could not get him to open. Even if I could I would need a pair of tweezers. We found the duty chemist which was open. She had some tweezers. But how was I going to get Sam to expose his palm? She smartly provided the solution. Out came a bag of sweets. Our lad could not resist one. Poised, tweezers in hand, I knew I had, at best, one chance. Sam’s fingers spread and snaked out for the sweet. I swooped with the tweezers. The implement secured and withdrew the shard of glass. Sam ate his sweet and we bade the woman goodbye. Ann bought an ice cream and provided a cuddle, and all was well.

Ann and Don were frequent visitors to Lindum House. When I spoke of the neighbourhood children sliding down the wide staircase on a mattress, frequently knocking the valuable painting off the wall at the foot of the stairs, Don said: ‘I bet Louisa was behind that’. Too right he was. He knew her well. Every time that painting came off, so did a section of its ornate plaster frame. Ann and Don would, in later years, stop off en route to Don’s family in Norfolk. They’d spend the day with us, sleep in their caravan on a local site, and press on to visit Don’s daughters. The couple are both in the group photograph of Michael and Heidi’s wedding which stands on the sitting room table in Sigoules.

After several hours in the garden sunshine, Don went inside for a nap, and I started writing, before our trip to Le Code Bar. This evening’s repast was steak and chips for me; salmon pizza with a white sauce for Don; Stella and Liffe respectively; and creme brulee for each of us. Don proclaimed the creme brulee ‘the best in the world. No wonder you have it after every meal.’