Beaulieu – derrickjknight

Advent Day 9

Beaulieu is a charming village nestled in the heart of the New Forest, allowing visitors to step back in time to explore the streets filled with character, where free-roaming ponies and donkeys wander. Beaulieu is a must-visit destination for those seeking a peaceful escape. Visitors can explore the scenic landscapes across Millpond, at Beaulieu River and in the surrounding forest, discover the village’s heritage, and enjoy attractions and outdoor activities, all while soaking in the timeless charm of this quintessential New Forest gem. Whether it’s enjoying a riverside picnic, exploring the charming High Street or visiting the incredible motor museum, the village of Beaulieu provides a great day out.

The history of Beaulieu

Situated at the head of the tidal Beaulieu River, the village dates back to the 13th century.

The village of Beaulieu initially grew up around the abbey which was founded in 1204 by Cistercian monks on land given to them by King John, who had a royal hunting lodge at Beaulieu. It was given the name of ‘Bellus Locus Regis’, or the beautiful place of the King. King John had quarrelled with the Cistercian Order early in his reign and decided to establish an Abbey to atone for his past oppressions. This generosity made him the subject of prayers in every Cistercian monastery.

For centuries, Beaulieu flourished as the monks traded goods and tended medicinal gardens (which can still be seen to this day at the Abbey).

The turning point of the Abbey came following Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries in the 1530s. The Abbey and surrounding estate were sold to the 1st Earl of Southampton, Thomas Wriothesley, in 1538 for the sum of £1,340. As religious buildings were being destroyed or defaced across the country, Beaulieu was also to be victim to this and the Abbey church, cloister and chapter house were destroyed. The refectory, domus and two of the gatehouses remained under the proviso that they were not to be used for religious purposes. The refectory is now known as Beaulieu Parish Church.

The Earl of Southampton was one of the present Lord Montagu’s ancestors and the estate has remained with the family ever since. Wriothesley converted the former Great Gatehouse into a modest manor house. The estate developed over subsequent generations and included the development of Buckler’s Hard in the 1720s. (https://www.thenewforest.co.uk/explore/towns-and-villages/beaulieu/?bounds=false&view=grid&sort=qualityScore)

Jackie and I visited the village lights after dark this afternoon.

This is my gallery;

and this, Jackie’s. As usual, each image bears a title in its gallery which may be accessed by a click on any one.

This evening we dined on hot and spicy, salt and pepper, and tempura prawn preparations on Jackie’s savoury rice, with which I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

Honey Bees And Christmas Lights

Giles visited this morning and stayed for lunch.

On a wander round the garden he was pleased to notice that the mahonia was still attracting bees.

Jacqueline du Pre was enjoying a resurgence in the rose garden.

Before lunch, our friend and I took a walk across the field by the post box, through the wood to the road, and back. My phone battery needed recharging, so I couldn’t take it with us.

It is six months since Jackie and I last dined at the Family House in Totton. We know that because Lennox, the latest member of the family was due a day or two after our visit, and he will be six months old in three days time. We ate there tonight and were amused to see his parents sharing the tasks of running the restaurant and holding their son, given that that is just what Matthew and Tess were doing in their establishment yesterday.

We received our usual warm welcome and excellent food, accompanied by Tsingtao beer.

En route we enjoyed Christmas lights at

Lyndhurst,

Beaulieu,

and Lymington.

In the left foreground of the Lymington photograph can be seen the gold-painted postbox, so decorated in honour of Ben Ainslie who won his fourth Olympic gold yachting medal in 2012.

As Wikipedia puts it: ‘To commemorate British and Irish gold medal winners at the 2012 Summer Olympics and 2012 Summer Paralympics, various postboxes around the United Kingdom, plus one each on Sark and the Isle of Man, were repainted [by the Royal Mail] from their traditional red into gold. It marked the first occasion in modern times that the colour of post boxes in the United Kingdom had been changed from their traditional red. Originally intended to be a temporary measure, it was later decided the colour change would become a permanent tribute, with boxes additionally receiving their own special plaques.’

This is the story of Ben Ainslie’s: ‘For sailor Ben Ainslie, the Mail initially painted a box in Restronguet Passage, Cornwall, the place [where] he grew up and learned to sail. A member of the public then vandalised a box in Lymington High Street, Hampshire, on the basis that Ainslie was a long time resident and considered somewhat of a local legend. After initially filing a complaint, the Mail relented to a public campaign and decided to officially paint the Lymington box.’

Why Did The Donkey Cross The Road?

After a noisy thunderstorm during the night, the day dawned bright and clear. I walked the circular route to Milford on Sea and back. Indicative of the brisk pace I was able to maintain in the cooler weather, this round trip took just over 90 minutes.

The pines along Sea Breeze Way cast lengthy shadows across the terrain, and the sun that caused this also enriched the colour of the

leaves now beginning to fall in the Nature Reserve, where the footpaths are becoming rather soggy.

On my way back along the cliff top, watching very choppy seas, I leant into a very forceful head wind which made me think I should have taken this route on the outward journey. Then I would have been blown along. Perhaps I should have emulated the crow which, flying low, may have gained some shelter from the land. Not being able to fly, except in my youthful dreams, I would have had to walk along the shingle, and today I didn’t have time for that.

Back at home, I joined Jackie, who had already made a start on the continued clearance of the back drive. We have almost finished the task.

Later this afternoon Jackie drove us to the Montague Arms Hotel at Beaulieu where we met Elizabeth for a cream tea.

As we arrived at the hotel two donkeys left the forecourt, wandered around the corner and across the road and came to catatonic rest outside someone’s house.

The Montague Arms is a splendid building with a beautifully maintained garden. Whilst waiting for my sister I wandered out and spoke to the gardener who was pleased with my appreciation of his work. He didn’t stop all the time we were enjoying our refreshment. We could have played croquet on the immaculate lawn, had we felt so inclined.

For refreshment, the ladies each chose cream teas, Elizabeth’s beverage being Earl Grey and Jackie’s English Breakfast. The scones looked delicious, but I, thinking we would be eating out later, originally declined. My lady and my sister, however, each persuaded me to have half of one of theirs. With these I drank a bottle of Ringwood’s Forty-niner.

After this, having all agreed to go on afterwards to The Family House in Totton for our evening meal, we took Elizabeth on a tour of Beaulieu, which, of course, doesn’t take very long. We introduced her to Patrick’s Patch which contained more seasonal produce than last time we visited in November last year.

Chard and dahlias were still in their beds, and an attractive arrangement of miniature pumpkins was on display.

I travelled with Elizabeth to the restaurant to be sure she would find the car park where we arrived at the same time as Jackie, and had our usual excellent meal in homely surroundings. We all drank T’singTao beer. Afterwards we parted company and Jackie drove me home.

‘Are They Real?’

The sinus pain that has been unrelentingly situated around my right eye for a fortnight showed some sign of shifting and lessening this morning. I have not taken Ibuprofen for 24 hours and the antibiotics have run their course.

After lunch Jackie drove us out to Beaulieu, around which we wandered. We were immediately captivated by Patrick’s Patch, the welcome sign of which explains it:

We were struck by the quality of the produce and the preparation for winter. There is a link with Fairweather’s Garden Centre across the road, which had an extensive and unusual collection of Christmas items, some of which we purchased.

Cottages in the picturesque streets date back to at least the seventeenth century. Parked cars do, however, bring one sharply into consciousness of the twenty first.

One shop appears to sell nothing but Teddy Bears. Good quality gifts and groceries are in abundance. It was amusing to see, outside the Village Shop, a bucket and spade, hula hoops, and beach balls holding their own with a display of more seasonal logs.

The splendid plumage of the ‘locally shot pheasants’ hanging across the shop’s frontage could not be dimmed in death. A woman passing asked her male companion: ‘Are they real?’. ‘Of course’, he replied with a measure of disdain. I didn’t think it politic to mention that I had been wondering the same thing.

There is a mill pond at this end of the tidal Beaulieu River on which stands Buckler’s Hard which we visited with Sam and Malachi on 12th January. If you can avoid the trees and buildings you can get a good view of the thirteenth century Cistercian abbey.

Across the river someone was having a bonfire. A gull kept its distance from the smoke.

We drove back across the heathland, diverting to shop at the Old Milton Lidl. This took us past The Old Post House which, we were now delighted to see, advertises itself as with ‘Sale Agreed’.

Jackie stopped the car along the road through the heath, so we could again admire the effects of the lowering sun. As I stepped out onto the plain I came across a warning sign alerting me to the fact that this area had been designated for military training during the First World War, and that there was ongoing work to remove ‘unexploded ordnance’ which meant we should watch out.

Our evening meal was cottage pie followed by rice pudding, jam, and custard. The final touch was offered in jest, in recognition of my Lower Marsh lunches with Terry Taylor in the 1960s. I jumped at it. Jackie finished the sauvignon blanc. I began Ron’s Lussac Saint-Emilion 2011. Both these wines were very good.