cattle – Page 19 – derrickjknight

Autumn

This morning I walked back to Lyndhurst, and in the process discovered where I had gone wrong yesterday. In the gloom of evening I had not seen a road sign. Jackie and I rendezvoused in the car park and completed the mail redirection process in the Post Office. We then had a wander around the town, making a few purchases, including a fine pair of leather gloves in the Age UK shop.

Ponies and cattle possessed the road, as nonchalently chomping away and wandering down the street through Minstead, as usual. At one point I helped out the driver of a small white van patiently waiting for a gap to open between a cow and calf so that he could squeeze through. It just wasn’t going to happen until I walked towards the pair prompting the calf to set off down the road. The adult, its head in a hedge, took no notice.

By the time we returned to Castle Malwood, what had begun as a rather murky day had metamorphosed into a gloriously clear, bright, seasonal one. We have learned that the two drives off the forest roads leading to our building are called ‘upper’ and ‘lower’. As we straddled the bars of the cattle grid at the ‘upper’ entrance we were both entranced by the leaf-carpeted bank beside it. I reflected, as I have done many times this week, that we are so fortunate to be arriving, in the autumn of our years, at such a picturesque area in such a spectacular season.

After another afternoon sorting out our new home we dined on a fabulous beef stew Jackie made. I was a little disappointed because I had seen her buy a blackberry and apple pie in Lyndhurst and thought that would be for our pud. It wasn’t, because we had no custard or cream. This was not really a problem. I just had another helping of stew. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I imbibed Marques de Montino rioja reserva 2007.

Serendipity

This morning Jackie and I drove over to Minstead to do a little more research into what is to be our local village. As we arrived, signs proclaimed that there was an antiques and bric-a-brac fair at Minstead Hall. Since we had come upon it by accident, the organisation’s name, ‘Serendipity’, seemed fortuitous. After we had got past the man in the entrance hall who was wishing to sell us a set of prints he thought were watercolours, we spotted, on the very first stall, two similar vases. They were of a dark green ceramic material in a shape which was certainly used in the 1880s; when Castle Malwood Lodge was built; with delightful floral designs appliqued in a hard paste. We don’t think it’s necessarily a good idea to buy from the first stall you see, but we bought these and were well pleased. It was, of course, mandatory to try out The Trusty Servant, if this was going to be our local. With excellent real ale, a choice of lagers for Jackie, and first-rate plentiful food it turned out to be a winner. Despite the fact that the bar was quite busy, all three staff behind the counter greeted us with winning smiles as we entered, and the service continued to be efficient and cheerful. We both lunched on roast pork.

On the grass verge opposite the pub, a row of cattle grazed. We have much to learn about the New Forest, but we believe these animals to belong to verderers, a group of people with ancient rights to graze their cattle and pigs, who in modern times have responsibility for management of the woodland. A short distance away was a group of New Forest ponies. These animals, owned by the New Forest Commoners, roam freely throughout the forest and the villages therein. I am particularly amazed at how still these creatures are, when not actually cropping the grass. Last year in a car park in Burley I had been convinced that those I saw individually positioned, sometimes almost touching cars, were incredibly realistic sculptures. It took a very close examination to reveal that they were alive. Jackie says that it is important for them to conserve energy otherwise they would have to eat an awful lot of grass.

We also checked out the village shop which is reasonably stocked, sells newspapers, and offers a tea room. Not quite in the class of Tess’s establishment in Upper Dicker (see post of 12th May), it is certainly a very good asset, and only half a mile from the Lodge. Jackie bought the Ordnance Survey Leisure map for the New Forest.

This evening we dined on left-overs. This of course conjures up the image of a concoction produced from small amounts left over from recent meals. Sainsburys, I think it was, who ran a television advertising programme after the 2008 credit crunch, recommending people to make use of left-overs to create wonderful new meals which most of the older generation had been producing for years. Now, left-overs from a 90th birthday party are certainly not scraps. We could choose from whole roast chickens; unopened quiches; platefuls of ham; cooled salmon; a good half dozen French sticks; untouched cakes; baked potatoes; and still fresh coleslaw; with half empty bottles of assorted red wines, and, in Jackie’s case, a previously unopened bottle of Stella. We’ll probably get some more at some stage tomorrow.

The Stepping Stone Community

Roger dropped Judith off for an early morning walk. We turned right at the cemetery and took the left fork at La Briaude, weaving our way to Mescoules. The landscape, largely seen from above, was enticing. At one point Judith slipped into a field, presumably to avail herself of the facilities. She may, possibly, have found it more convenient in Sigoules. Then again, maybe not.

Looking down on some distant cattle, my companion told me they were Acquitaine blondes. They blended in beautifully with the golden fields. We found we both had a penchant for photographing tapestry landscapes. A farm vehicle with a trailer clattered towards us at great speed. As we took refuge on the grass verge, no way was it going to slow down.

We wondered whether a rabbit bounding across a farmyard had been an escapee from hutches we saw in a smallholding which looked entirely self sufficient. It had a lovely garden, a pony, pig-pens, and tomatoes flourishing among vines across the road. The owners possessed the second beagle we had disturbed on our rambling, both of us equally relieved that each dog was securely fenced in. A roadside sign was slightly less scary than the one I’d seen yesterday.

Judith had pointed out a sign to Mescoules on our previous walk. To me it had seemed to lie in a totally different direction. Chris and Frances would vouch for this since I’d managed to get us lost trying to lead them to the vivarium a couple of years ago. Having walked through that village today, I was quite pleased that we were able to direct a car driver to it on our way back. Since she hadn’t pronounced the final S, I speculated that she was from Northern France.

As usual, my friend was good company, and made what turned out to be a ninety minute walk seem much shorter. Naturally we finished up with a drink at Le Code Bar whilst waiting for Roger to collect her. Incidentally, the reggae night starts at 9.30 on 18th. August. With 45 degrees on the garden thermometer I’m glad we went out early.

This afternoon I finished reading ‘Death in Holy Orders’ by P.D.James. This is an excellent book which transcends the mere detective story, with its comprehensive understanding of human nature. The action is set in a religious community. Ordinands and guests are free to eat when and where they like, except for the evening meal, when all are expected to attend this ‘unifying celebration of community life’. This reminded me of the early days of my friendship with Ann, Don’s late wife.

As an Area Manager of the inner city Social Services Department of Westminster, I was continually frustrated at the lack of provision for the care of older adolescents for whom we were responsible. One of my own clients went to live in the establishment Ann was managing in Chelsea. It had been her ambition to set up a community of her model for just the group of young people we could not adequately accommodate. Through my visiting my client I realised that, in Ann, we had a gem who should be encouraged. I therefore chaired a committee, assembled by Ann, which set up The Stepping Stone Community in Finsbury Park. We rented three houses from a Housing Association; staffed it with suitable carers, and opened it to young people aged 16-plus in their last two years in care. This was additional to my employed occupation. The unique element was the ‘normal adult’, one attached to each house. The idea was that these adults, all in work, were to provide a model for the young people. Adults and adolescents alike each had a bedsit. In exchange for their accommodation the adults were contracted to attend a house meal once a week. They and the other residents took turns in producing the fare. This organisation thrived for more than twenty years in the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s. Unfortunately, because of the growing reluctance of Local Authorities to fund such agencies, we began to struggle financially. For our last five years our treasurer and I kept us afloat with personal bank guarantees. This was beginning to worry us. We therefore approached another child care agency, The Thomas Coram Foundation, seeking a merger. The Foundation had an infrastructure we couldn’t match, having benefitted from the legacy of a wealthy eighteenth century merchant. This included many valuable works of art. They welcomed our suggestion. I chaired the merger group, and eventually the long-established agency took over our project with a promise to honour its values. It is greatly to Ann’s credit that members of all sections of Stepping Stone, last year, travelled to Bungay to attend her funeral, paying tribute to how she had changed their lives.

Today was completed with chicken and chips in the square, with Stella from Le Bar. I was in the company of a Welsh family consisting of Emma, Phil, Ken, Ben and Kaylie, and baby Jessica. They were staying in the house belonging to Val, who I had met watching the England/France football match earlier in the year. She had told them they would find me in the bar. I most definitely claim I wasn’t there, but David directed them to me.