Calshot beach – derrickjknight

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On another splendid September summer’s morning, Jackie drove us to Calshot and back.

Calshot Beach had just two occupants: the proverbial one man and his dog.

A woman was discussing the refurbishment of her beach hut. What had at first seemed a simple carpentry job had developed into a bit of a rebuild because of the discovery of dry rot and woodworm.

Betsy, at number one, was able to enjoy the sunshine outside her delightfully appointed summer house.

These huts threw long shadows in the sunshine.

Some boats were moored;

others sailed behind the cricket stumps – http://www.royal-southern.co.uk/News-Desk/ID/1037/Yacht-Clubs-meet-for-the-annual-Bramble-Bank-cricket-match-in-the-middle-of-the-Solent – (Info courtesy of quercuscommunity.wordpress.com), deep on the boundary.

A seaplane droned overhead.

Calshot Beach is on a sand and shingle spit leading to Calshot Castle,

first seen through boats old

and new.

These masts belong to members of the Calshot Cats yachting club.

Across the water lies Fawley Power Station.

I was not the only photographer interested in the scene;

and crossing a lead with fishing rods, a young man engaged in a tug of war with his dog.

Turning my attention to the water, I tracked a speedboat

as it sped past the Red Funnel ferryboat,

then yachts, with the Spinnaker (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spinnaker_Tower) on the horizon.

Since the Olympics breakfast on 19th, I have been unable to face my favourite full English, so when we decided to lunch at the Activities Centre, I opted for ham, egg, and chips, which could be considered as breaking me in gently. Jackie chose vegetable soup and a baguette.

Whilst enjoying this, I watched silhouettes making their way along a distant sand spit.

Here is the history of the castle (enlargement should help).

We dined this evening on Chicken Kiev, Jackie’s piquant cauliflower cheese, and creamy mashed potato. I finished the malbec.

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The meteorologists having informed us that the bright, albeit nippy, early morning sunshine would be covered by cumulus soon after mid-day sent us off into the forest, after a brief wander round the garden where

hanging baskets are now mostly filled with plants, like these pansies at the front,

which catches the dawn rays,

particularly lighting blossom such as that of the prunus Amanogawa;

and a sparrow surveyed the terrain from the safety of a holly tree.

The back drive,with its own share of hanging baskets, was also looking bright and sprightly.

On the road out of Lymington towards Beaulieu, a collection of cattle lounged along the curving verge. Only after she had finished using this to have a good scratch under her outstretched jaw,

did the first one find the energy to lift her head and satisfy her curiosity.

Further on down the road, a passing cyclist, when informed that she was in the shot, quipped that had she known she would have smiled.

Donkeys, joining the queue for the bus at East Boldre, preferring to stay on their feet, made use of bus stop, phone box, and wooden bollard to shift their ticks. Note that the telephone box has been saved and dedicated to the memory of John Kitcher.

Across the green behind the bus stop stands a hawthorn tree very handy for the ponies. This one, risking possible entanglement, vigorously rubbed its rear against a broken branch. This was clearly the day for relieving an itch.

Beyond Beaulieu, the approach to Fawley refinery and power station varied the vista.

When we last visited Calshot beach the Hoegh Osaka was stranded on Bramble Bank. The strand that today we had to ourselves had then been packed with reporters, photographers, and sightseers; and the empty lanes choked with parked cars.

Today the Southampton Spinnaker was a focus of my attention. Someone appears to have set up cricket stumps for Jesus. I cannot think of anyone else who could play on this surface. (But see the Quercus Community comment below!!)

The paths of a yacht and a motor boat passed at speed.

Having recently watched the BBC’s magnificent adaptation of Bleak House, in which the long running Court of Chancery case of Jardyce v. Jardyce is pivotal, I was intrigued to read the basis for privacy of this section of beach (should you be equally intrigued you will need to enlarge the image of the notice.

We drove on to King Henry VIII’s Calshot Castle in time, once more, to watch a tanker passing.

Also passing each other, emulating the two boats above, were an oystercatcher and, I think, a sandpiper, each striding along ignoring the other.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s pork chops in redcurrant jelly; fried potatoes; crisp cabbage and carrots; and the peppers, onions, leeks and garlic melange. This was followed by Bread and Butter pudding, with cream for her, and custard for me. She drank Hoegaarden and I finished the madiran.

In response to popular request, the Culinary Queen has penned her method for making Bread and Butter Pudding.

Tag: Calshot beach

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