The Wrong Location For Mr Crocker

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS ACCESS GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

Today was a very wet one. This gave me the opportunity for taking another virtual trip to London, through the medium of another dozen colour slides, from August 2004, that I scanned this morning. These are all images of the Marylebone area.

The skilled workman on the corner of St John’s Avenue NW10 is cutting paving blocks to lay beside the newly fitted wheelchair ramp, enabling disabled people to cross the road more easily. Note that the authorities have chosen to retain the early street sign and supplement it with the 10 added as the capital expanded, rendering NW an insufficient location.

In the background of the first of these images of Newcastle Place W2 the vast tower blocks of hugely expensive residential apartments that comprise the Paddington Basin development are under construction. The second shows shutters probably fitted when the building was pristine, although the replacement windows are not contemporary.

I am not sure how high the gentleman in this photograph of the building on the corner of Corlett Street NW1, is intending to climb, but I thought he may well have been as perplexed as the window cleaner featured on 1st October 2016.

The Brazen Head at 69 Lisson Street NW1 dates from the mid-19th century.

As can be seen, that public house stands on the corner of Bell Street, in which the second -hand bookshop at number 83 was kept in rather better order inside than was suggested by its window display. At any rate, the proprietor knew where everything was. Rather like my desk, really. FLOS marks the headquarters of the heating and lighting suppliers of that name, but anyone who knows our eldest granddaughter will understand why I photographed the building.

Can you see what Spiderman was up to in Marylebone Road? Madame Tussauds provides the answer.

York Terrace West fronts Regents Park, owned by Crown Estates, hence the insignia on the bollards.

These three images of Melcombe Place NW1 provide a panorama of Marylebone Station’s frontage. Anyone wishing to discover why this was the wrong location for Mr Crocker is directed to the post ‘A Screwdriver Comes In Handy’.

During a brief sunny spell late in the afternoon we drove out to Keyhaven.

The tide was out in the harbour and the boats were all grounded.

A jet-propelled duck bobbing on a bubbling body of water alerted me to the fact that this tranquility was about to change.

The machine churning out foaming cappuccino coffee was the Avon Water Outfall, apparently controlled by sluice gates. An outfall is the discharge point of a waste stream into a river, a lake, or the sea. Here the Avon Water was discharging into the Solent, I imagine as an outlet from the recent storms.

This is what Wikipedia has to say about Avon Water:

“Avon Water is a small river in the south of England, flowing through the New Forest in Hampshire to the sea. It should not be confused with the larger River Avon, which also flows through Hampshire.

Along with the Beaulieu River and the Lymington River, Avon Water is one of the three main rivers which drain the New Forest southward directly into the Solent,^[1] although it is smaller than the other two rivers.^[2] It rises in the south-western part of the New Forest, near Holmsley, and flows south-eastward, in a fairly straight course for about 9 miles (14.5 km).^[3] It flows into the Solent at Keyhaven,^[4] close to the shingle bank that leads to Hurst Castle.^[3]

The name “Avon Water” is considered modern,^[5] although it certainly dates from at least the 18th century. It is labelled on Thomas Milne‘s map of Hampshire published by William Faden in 1791.^[6] Cary’s New Itinerary of 1810 also refers to “Avon Water” but confounds it with a stream immediately to the west (the Danes stream near Downton).^[7]“

I have, of course, been confusing it with the River Avon.

The sky soon darkened, and Milford on Sea took on a dramatic air, in which

I and the gulls battled with powerful winds.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s very hot chilli con carne and savoury rice. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Cimarosa Reserva Privada Carmenère 2015.

The Watch House

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS ACCESS GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

This morning we took a drive out to Lepe, during a brief window of sunshine in a gradually gloomier day.

Jackie dropped me off at the Watch House, from which I walked to the car park, alongside which, in the café, she was enjoying a coffee.

Perched on a rocky spit, the occupants of this house, reflected in the water, must have enjoyed an excellent view when on the lookout for smugglers.

A set of steep stone steps leads down from the road

alongside the seafront,

on the other side of which stand the coastguard cottages, still undergoing refurbishment.

A number of pairs walked along the sea wall.

The Dark Water stream flows under the road.

Gulls perched on the wooden breakwaters.

The sea has sculpted some of the piles into abstract forms.

Various vessels sped past the Isle of Wight.

Providing a backcloth to a dog straining to reach a gull, one yacht sailed into the harbour,

and back out to sea.

Turnstones tried their luck on the shingle,

where a spritely little dog dashed about in vain attempts to catch gulls.

The only bird, another turnstone, that it could have caught hopped around at a safe distance in the car park, on one foot. It clearly found enough food.

Alongside the car park,

in the cab of a heavy vehicle, sat a worker wielding a pen. Was he, like Jackie, working his way through a puzzle book?

From Lepe, Jackie drove us to Molly’s Den in New Milton where we bought a birthday present and my debit card was blocked. Fortunately I had enough cash to pay for the item. When we got home a phone call to the bank sorted out the problem. I really can’t be bothered to go into what they had done and the hoops I had to go through to put it right.

Elizabeth, Danni and Andy joined us this evening and we all drove to Lal Quilla in Lymington for the usual excellent meal with really friendly service. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and Andy drank diet Coke. The rest of us shared two bottles of the house merlot. After that, if you expect me to detail the meals other than my own king prawn Ceylon and mushroom rice you will be disappointed.

Now You See It, Now You Don’t

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS ACCESS GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

Today was warmer and just one uniform shade of grey. This morning we travelled by car to New Milton where I visited the dry cleaners, the post office, and the bank. I collected cleaning, mailed a parcel and some letters, and paid a bill. All rather mundane really.

Jackie drove us on to Mudeford Quay where I went for a wander.

On the sheltered side of the quay, not even the gulls occupied the benches.

A crow took off on my approach.

I imagine most people were patronising the Haven House Inn, beyond the Sailing Club masts

on the top of one of which perched a gull,

the solitary audience of the jingle jangling rigging orchestral performance.

Most such scavengers harassed those drivers and their passengers taking a break in the car park.

I wonder if anyone has any ideas about what the woman on the spit was seeking. Stones? Shells?

She, of course ventured on the rougher, seaward, side of the harbour, where the waves roared, and no-one emerged from the beach huts.

A bright orange buoy bobbed on the surface.

Now you see it, now you don’t.

This evening we dined on lemon chicken with perfect carrots, cauliflower, greens, and boiled potatoes, followed by profiteroles. I drank Château Plessis grand vin de Bordeaux 2014.

Foggy Necking

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS ACCESS GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

We awoke to a garden covered in frost and fog. As the day progressed, some of the precipitation departed, but the mist remained. My photographs largely appeared as if in monochrome, and I undertook no editing at all.

I began with a wander round the garden. Some of these shots, especially the one featuring a dripping cobweb, were taken from an upstairs window. The other cobweb adds a hairpiece to Florence’s statue.

One front and one rear light had failed on the car, so it spent the morning in Downton Service Station.

This is what Christchurch Road looked like when we collected it, and drove off, first to

Lymington River where the moored boats were barely discernible,

and the ferry crews hung about on the upper deck because, like Southampton Airport, the services were fogbound.

Tanner’s Lane was our next target. There the flats at low tide took on the air of Paul Nash’s paintings of the First World War.

The barbed wire and gnarled trees separating the beach from the field added to the atmosphere.

As we drove off up the lane two red/brown ponies loomed up ahead.

Considering themselves safe from prying eyes, and ignoring the grey gooseberry further up the road, they embarked upon a passionate necking session.

Once we had circumvented the happy couple, we continued to St Leonard’s Grange.

Trees, both in the fields and along the road took on a spooky image, in keeping with the ruins of the ancient grange.

A pheasant stood proud on the old stone wall of the big house.

Soon after this the journey took an alarming turn. A warning light came on and a message stated that there was a steering fault. In the increasing fog. Several miles from home. Jackie, bravely, tensely, continued, having come to the conclusion that the power steering had failed. She made it back to the service station, and switched off the engine whilst I brought out a mechanic. He sat in the driving seat, switched the ignition back on, and spun the wheel with ease. The problem had righted itself. We decided that, like any computer, when there is a problem one should always try switching it off and switching it back on.

This evening we dined on lamb steaks flavoured with our own dried rosemary, cottage pie topped with cheddar cheese, and sautéed potatoes, leeks, carrots, and green beans; followed by bread and Benecol pudding with evap. I drank Reserve des Tuguets Madiran 2012, while Jackie chose sparkling water.

Lymington Yacht Haven

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS ACCESS GALLERIES THAT MAY BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

When I walked around the Keyhaven – Lymington Nature Reserve recently I finished up at the boat yard I now know is the Lymington Yacht Haven. Today I chose to begin at the Haven and wander around it.

Jackie therefore drove me to Pinckney Path from which I had returned to Normandy Lane.

The woman walking towards me pointed to this sign giving the history of the route

through to the boats.

A walker, presumably having emerged from the bird sanctuary, passed me as I stooped to photograph supports of a boat.

Other ramblers could be seen on the far side of the reserve, with the ferry boat making for the Isle of Wight beyond.

I suppose this was really a dry dock area, with boats being supported by wooden struts and other devices,

such as these container drums.

A variety of hulls were prepared for work.

Reflections were seen on car windows

and on the hulls of the cleaner boats.

There was little work being undertaken, but this gentleman climbed down from ‘Plymouth’.

Walking through the boat yard led to the marina where boats and their reflections shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight.

This evening we dined on further helpings of the roast duck and savoury rice, supplemented by spring rolls. I drank more of the cabernet sauvignon.

Winter Quarters

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN CLUSTERS ACCESS GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

Fibre optic broadband installation takes place in the exchange, and we cannot obtain a projected time for the work. It could be as late as midnight. James Peacock will therefore bring the router tomorrow morning. So the uploading struggles continue today.

Today’s fresh blooms in the rose garden are those of Crown Princess Margareta; and the honeysuckle on the entrance arch is under the reasonable impression that Spring has arrived.

This afternoon we visited Dials on the bottom corner of Quay Street, Lymington, to buy a Christmas present;

then walked down to the quayside. A friendly young fisherman I have featured both in Lymington and in Mudeford, was steering his little boat into dock. I wonder if his

and this one are kinds of coracle.

My young friend explained that he spends the period from the winter months to Easter at Lymington, because this calmer harbour is much safer than the other, which is exposed to the open sea. Crab pots, ropes, and buoys are neatly piled on the quay.

There was no other activity on the water with its forest of masts,

except for that of mallards and gulls ignoring the signs forbidding diving and mooring.

This evening we enjoyed a second helping of Hordle Chinese Take Away’s delicious food. Jackie drank Hoegaarden whilst I chose Doom Bar.

Contrast

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS GIVE ACCESS TO GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

Late this morning Jackie drove us to Mudeford for a visit to the quay, then on to Friars Cliff for brunch at the eponymous cafe.

Whilst I wandered around the harbour, Jackie enjoyed coffee in the cafe.

Looking out to sea, my ears were pounded by the white horses rumbling across the steely, turbulent, water’s surface, and crashing against the sturdy quayside;

shrieking of the squabbling gulls. The guests at the boisterous shindig being held against the backdrop of the most expensive beach huts in the country, joined forces to evict a jet gatecrasher.

Making good use of scoops of seawater, still ogled by hopeful scavengers perched on posts, the crew of a small fishing boat were engaged in cleaning up at their docking area.

As always, neatly stacked on the quay, lay buoys and ropes between towers of crusted crab baskets.

The entrance to the harbour lies beyond a protective spit. At once, the squeals were silenced and the water became still as rippled sheets of reflective glass. In fact the only sound was a feeble squeak emitted by the open beak of an adolescent cygnet.

Anchored boats made no motion, even when the gulls took off and landed on their gunwales. The outboard motor in the first photograph reminded me of one Jessica bought secondhand in Newark and used for one day in Instow in Devon. She left her recently acquired dinghy in the bay facing our holiday house. In the morning the motor was gone. As was every other similar item from other boats. This was apparently the first time such a theft had ever occurred at that location. I guess that was another example of sod’s law.

A solitary angler chose a position at the point of aquatic contrast.

This evening we dined on meat samosas, chicken and spinach curry, and paratha. I finished the chianti.

In A Different Light

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS GIVE ACCESS TO GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

The car was repaired this morning and passed its M.O.T. test whilst it was at it. We therefore celebrated with a drive to Keyhaven and back.

The outward trip was via Barnes Lane and Milford on Sea.

The tide was far out. Without water on which to float, the damaged boat, Blue Dawn, lurched even more than it had a couple of days ago.

Hurst Castle, its lighthouse, and the recumbent hulk that is the Isle of Wight were all more clearly visible.

There were fewer birds about. Tinkling of the wind chimes in the yachts’ rigging replaced the honking of geese and the squabbling of seagulls.

Like a lofted shuttlecock, a helicopter whirred overhead.

Leaving Jackie in the car, I walked along the pebbled shore, past the paddling birds near the castle, and round the bend as the sea wall makes way for a coastal footpath.

Spotting a potential passage through the undergrowth to the promenade, I pushed through it. On the upper level I was warned off by a big beautiful beast. Scaling a slope with vociferous open jaws ahead of me and brambles encircling my legs, I was loath to miss a photo opportunity, although not in complete control of the framing. Clearly no stranger to the camera lens, my subject sheathed its fangs and adopted an angelic expression. My canine friend at last obeyed its master’s voice, and caught up with him and his more obedient companion, whilst I made my way back to the car in the opposite direction, there to

bid farewell to waders and gulls. The apparently preening cygnet is in fact a stray buoy.

It is fair to say that we had achieved our aim to see Keyhaven in a different light.

This evening we dined on lean beef burgers, new potatoes, and crunchy cauliflower, followed by blackberry, apple, and plum crumble with vanilla ice cream. I finished the Côte du Rhone.

A Little Help From My Friends

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROUPS ACCESS GALLERIES WHICH CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

Today dawned dull and dry, so Jackie and I took an early drive to Keyhaven harbour and ambled along the sea wall.

Many boats were peacefully moored after the recent gales,

although one looked a bit of a wreck.

Except when silhouetted against the grey waters, well camouflaged wading birds, picking their way among pebbles and seaweed in the shallows, scuttled to and fro, pausing to probe promising crevices.

I can recognise swans and a cygnet,

and I am fairly confident that this is a redshank, and that many of the others will be the same, but for clear identification I will need a little help from my birding friends.

I imagine that these are more overwintering Brent geese that we saw at Lepe, but I am not sure. In the foreground of the landscape photographs are many more of our own waterfowl.

Quite a few birdwatchers walked along the wall with their dogs. Unfortunately there was evidence that some owners bring their pets out to empty them, as we put it.

Hurst Castle and its lighthouse were visible through the haze.

The website of this historic building tells us:

“The History of Hurst Castle

Hurst Castle is situated at the seaward end of the shingle spit that extends 1.5 miles from Milford-On-Sea. The end of the spit, only three-quarters of a mile from the Isle of Wight, and the views from the top of the centre keep are spectacular.

Hurst Castle was the perfect location to defend the western approach to the Solent. The castle was built by Henry VIII as one of a chain of coastal fortresses and was completed in 1544.

Charles I was imprisoned here in 1648 before being taken to London to his trial and execution.

The castle was modernised during the Napoleonic wars and again in the 1870’s when the enormous armoured wings were constructed. Two of the huge 38-ton guns installed in the 1870’s can be viewed in their casemates.

During World War II, Hurst was manned with coastal gun batteries and searchlights.

Since the castle has been opened to the public many more exhibits and exhibitions have been installed, including the Trinity House lighthouse museum.”

On our way from Keyhaven to Hurst Spit, Jackie spotted a pair of mittens fitted on the lichen-covered limb of a bare tree. Although the slow-growing pale green organism suggests that its host is fairly elderly, I think the gloves have not been placed there to keep it warm, but to alert the parents of a small child who now has cold fingers.

When we passed them earlier, the Isle of Wight and The Needles had been invisible. Just before noon, the emerging sun revealed them.

Steamed syrup pudding and custard followed Jackie’s spicy paprika pork with wild rice and green beans for our dinner this evening. She drank Hoegaarden and I drank Séguret Côtes du Rhone Villages, 2014.

Overwintering At Lepe

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THE SMALLER GROUPS ACCESS GALLERIES.

Late this morning Jackie drove us to Lepe where we enjoyed a brunch in the cafe by the beach.

Gulls scavenged among the pebbles and the seaweed that proved there is a stronger wet smell than that of damp dog.

You see, the seaweed aroma pervaded the air so much that it swamped any scent of the dog that, dashing into the sea on the end of a telescopic leash; in a vain attempt to capsize the honking avian flotillas commandeering the surface of the water; became very wet indeed.

Upon enquiry at the Information centre, I learned that these noisy birds were Brent geese who regularly fly from Canada and Siberia to enjoy what they must experience as a summer holiday in Lepe.

There was a fair amount of shipping seen on the horizon,

and approaching the Isle of Wight, which formed the backdrop of a number of these photographs.

A container vessel passed a spit

along which. at low tide a group walked out to sea. I assume they were not aiming to walk all the way to the island.

A helicopter chugged overhead,

where, later, the next flock of geese arrived for their overwintering.

Work was being undertaken on a terrace of cottages on the slopes above the beach. These listed dwellings were built in 1828 to house coastguards employed to combat the centuries-old customs of smuggling and piracy. The building nearer the shore was the Watch House.

Driving past them led us to the corner of Inchmery Lane where, perched on the side of the cliff, stood a lighthouse,

overlooking a stretch of beach belonging to a wildlife preservation society.

Taking the left bend visible in the above photograph of the lane, we continued along it, catching glimpses of the sea through the trees on our left.

At Moonhill, on our way to Beaulieu, a pony feeding in the forest caught my eye. I made my way through the trees and caught his. As I set out to cross the road back to the car, an equine companion did the same on its way into the woods. This had the usual effect on the traffic.

A neat stack of felled tree trunks occupied a cleared area.

For our dinner this evening, Jackie supplemented our second sitting of the Chinese takeaway with her superb egg fried rice. I finished the cabernet sauvignon.