Christmas lights – Page 2

Byron Road

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After a day spent writing and posting Christmas cards, buying stamps for the next batch, purchasing a Christmas present, completing our decorations, and filling up with petrol, it seemed appropriate to join the throngs viewing the lights of Byron Road.

When I featured this annual display last year, I erroneously called it Knighton Park. That is because we approached it from that road. Today, I give the residents of the amazing terrace in Byron Road the credit they deserve. A visit to the post highlighted above gives an explanation of what this communal effort is all about.

The entire terrace is adorned with various motifs on the front facade and on the left hand side wall.

Each small front garden is packed with figures, often singing and dancing. We have reindeers, Santas, snowmen, dogs, penguins, polar bears, lambs, cribs, and many more.

Enraptured children have a free run up the garden paths, in order to press buttons, gaze at the exhibits, or cuddle Father Christmas. I needed to be very careful as I backed away to frame my pictures. Otherwise I might have crushed an excited infant.

Jackie raided the freezer for Yellow Ticket bargains for our meal this evening. This resulted in a melange of crispy chilli beef, crispy aromatic duck, and Asian vegetable rice cones, supplemented by her own egg fried rice. The space previously occupied by them is required for the Christmas stocks. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Fleurie.

Xmas Show

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This morning I made some prints for Christmas presents, before visiting Margery and Paul at:

This ever popular exhibition did not disappoint in its array of art works in different media, reasonably enough priced to make for good, unpressurised Christmas shopping.

Margery’s own charming clown cushion makes a good start.

Lucille Scott’s snails would decorate any garden.

There is much good jewelry on a par with these necklaces.

Deborah Richards’s ceramic sculptures are a highlight.

I liked Ruth Facey’s wire pictures.

Rita Rouw’s Lounge Lady, reflecting the note of humour in the exhibition, has an air of Beryl Cook.

The cock and cats at the top of the stairs seems a happy juxtapostion.

On the way up are a row of Josephine Sumner’s colourful linocuts,

opposite which are strings of fish.

The contents of this shelf in the kitchen may or may not be for sale. Whether or not, they are examples of the objects around this home that display the best part of a century’s fascination with all forms of creativity.

There is still another week in which to visit the show.

We spent that afternoon with Elizabeth and Mum in turn at their respective homes in West End.

way home we noticed that a number of the small towns, like Lyndhurst, have switched on their Christmas lights.

There was enough of yesterday’s Indian takeaway for, with the addition of onion bahjis, second helpings this evening. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I finished the madiran.

Not Really A Crime Scene

I have received a 4th Anniversary Greeting from WordPress.

Haircut; car tax; filling up with petrol; paying in cheques; a new plant tray. I don’t normally report on the mundane, but this lot did occupy most of the morning.

This was a day of poor light, not conducive to photography, so I scanned some more colour slides from 1980, made during our last few months in Horse & Dolphin Yard.

Just after New Year the Christmas lights still illuminated Regent Street’s night sky which sported several moons and numerous shooting stars.

In February, as often at weekends,

Michael

and Matthew (clearly in the midst of a perennial growth spurt) played football in Horse & Dolphin Yard.

To take these photographs I must have been standing outside the door of our flat. On another occasion two gentlemen, to my left, somewhat the worse for having consumed a quantity of the cheapest possible intoxicating liquid, sprawled against each other in a corner on the floor. Michael and his friend Eddie were playing with a tennis ball. Soon, my son came running up the stairs to inform me that one of the imbibers had taken their ball. Naturally I descended into the yard to persuade the gent to give up his spoils.

The man’s fingers still clutched the ball, even though he was now dead.

I called the police who arrived quite quickly. The officer in charge, whilst arranging for disposal of the body, instructed me to send Michael inside because he shouldn’t be seeing this. It didn’t seem politic to argue, so I quietly suggested to the fifteen-year-old that he would get a better view from an upstairs window. Up he went.

There were no blue and white tapes applied to keep out sightseers, and no chalk outlines were made. Clearly this was not really considered to be the scene of a crime. Except possibly the snatching of the ball. In the circumstances, I was prepared to overlook that.

On 1st March Jessica emerged from the flat on her way to our wedding at Marylebone Registry Office,

and later returned to celebrate among a myriad of bouquets.

In the last Soho picture, later that month, she is drying her hair.

This evening Jackie and I dined on succulent cod fish cakes in fish gravy, new potatoes, cauiflower, carrots, and runner beans; followed by treacle tart and cream. The Cook drank Hoegaarden, and I drank Vineyards cotes du Rhone 2014. Fish gravy, by the way, is white sauce laced with fresh parsley.

Wiltshire And The West End

Steady rain fell most of the day, so I scanned some more colour slides for posterity. The more observant readers will note that I have converted three to black and white images.

19th December 1979 was Matthew’s eleventh birthday. Being the generous soul he is, he allowed Becky to blow out his cake candles. I had to be quick to take this shot because these flickering flames were my only source of light.

Just before Christmas Jessica, Michael and I took a trip to Jessica’s parents in Wiltshire.

This standing stone must have been photographed at Avebury,

above which Jessica and Piper romped on the hillside.

Mat and Becky always enjoyed a trip to Trafalgar Square. In December 1979 you were still welcome to feed the birds with crusts of bread,

which, like the rooks foraging in the turf beneath our New Forest ponies, tried their luck around the sculptured hoofs of King George IV’s horse.

Lord Nelson’s memorial square is a very short walk from what was our flat in Horse and Dolphin Yard, in the doorway of which beam Jessica and Michael.

This Mews Yard lay off Macclesfield Street, between Gerard Street and Shaftesbury Avenue leading to

Piccadilly Circus, photographed in January 1980.

Jackie has abandoned me this evening for a trip to Surrey and a meal with her good friend, Pauline, which they have both been looking forward to. I therefore dined alone on fried eggs, bacon, potatoes, and carrots, with toast. I have never tried the orange vegetables with a fry-up before. They add a certain pleasant piquancy.

Knighton Park Revisited

In my counselling practice I would sometimes continue working with people who could not afford my fee. This may have been because their circumstances had changed, and it seemed wrong to me to stop a course of help because of this. A token fee was then charged until their finances looked up again.

Quite a number of years ago it became clear that one person would never be able to pay. I waived the fee ‘until his circumstances changed’. What then happened was that he would bring me the occasional kind present.

I am not a fan of science fiction. He was. So I have a few unread paperbacks in my library. One of these is ‘The Bicentennial Man’, a collection of stories on robotics by Isaac Azimov. The most prolific Azimov has the reputation of an icon of the genre. Another recent cue has prompted me to open this 1978 Panther paperback. It is such prompts that help me select reading from my collection.

The first three tales have held my attention enough to think I might persevere. Watch this space.

Early this afternoon, Jackie drove Becky and me to Knighton Park for another look at the crazy Christmas lights.

This time I focussed more on the gardens. Many exhibits, like the Santa in the box on the right, repeated recorded carols and other Christmas sounds.

Some of the characters, like the snowman with whom Becky is conversing here, were set in motion, and in voice, at the press of a button which visitors were encouraged to administer.

Along the side of the terrace, our daughter was in competition with a smaller young lady in the queue to activate other displays.

The child patiently awaited her turn to set the snowmen going.

Perpetual snow fell on the snowman in this lamp,

and various cribs were surrounded by other symbols of the season.

Father Christmas sheltered a pair of carol singers whose voices were enhanced by a sonorous giant snowman.

The magical scene was well worth the £5 I stuffed into the Charity Collection Box.

This evening we dined at Lal Quilla where we received the usual excellent food and friendly, efficient service, accompanied by Kingfisher beer. We were given excellent quality desk diaries and key rings containing bottle openers.

Knighton Park

On a continuing balmy morning I picked a December bouquet from the garden – photographically speaking, of course. We have:

Festive jewels,

violas,

petunias,

geraniums,

snapdragons,

and solanums.

Jackie went on a massive ‘operation fill the freezer up’ shop; Aaron finished off the bathroom; and I completed our last batch of cards that we posted on the way to lunch at Helen and Bill’s.

Helen produced an excellent roast venison meal for us; for Shelly and Ron; for herself and Bill; and for their delightful son, David and his lovely wife, Jen. The starter was tasty pate with redcurrant jelly and salad. The meat was served with plentiful carrots, Brussels sprouts, green beens, and roast potatoes and parsnips. Chocolate roulade with strawberries, melon and cream was for dessert. Cheese and biscuits was to follow. Afterwards we just about managed coffee and mint chocolates. Various red and white wines were the accompaniment.

Convivial conversation with a sprinkling of reminiscence kept us going well into the evening. Ron told us about a terrace of houses in Knighton Park in Barton which sported splendid Christmas decorations, so we decided to visit it on our way home.

We were treated to a staggering display, complete with a singing reindeer strapped to a post.

Other people, such as the little family in this shot, had come out to see the show. I was asked to photograph them on the mother’s phone.

The whole of this terrace was festooned with coloured lights representing numerous motifs, and the tiny front gardens were crammed with glowing figures, including a few cribs, snowmen, and Santas.

None of the facades or sides of the dwellings was neglected.

The street was lined with parked cars on which the scenes were reflected.

No further sustenance was required after we returned home.

The Run Up To Christmas

Such is the speed of light changes, especially at this time of the year, that, in the two minutes it took me to sling on a dressing gown, get downstairs, and grab the camera this morning, the completely red dawn sky had streaked, but still looked dramatic.

Today the usual division of labour between Jackie and me applied as we continued the run up to Christmas. The creatively practical member of the partnership decorated the tree, and the administrator wrote the cards.

The last collection is at 4.45 p.m. As I walked to the post box in the dark, I noticed that a couple of our neighbours have also festooned their facades with festive lights.

This evening we dined at The Royal China restaurant in Lymington, where we enjoyed our usual plentiful meal with very friendly service. We both drank Tsingtao beer.

I also had the opportunity to photograph the ‘Christmas tree’ formed from lights forming streamers suspended from a star-topped maypole. I had forgotten my camera when we were here yesterday.

A Precocious Hellebore

We are still enjoying temperatures in double figures, and the rain was easier today.

This morning we left a large photographic print for mounting with 4Most Framing in Old Milton. We returned home via Barton on Sea where

the waves were choppy and a layer of spray around the dimly visible Isle of Wight gave it the appearance of a Hovercraft skimming over the surface of the water.

The weather was still mild enough for walkers to venture onto the shore down below the crumbling cliff.

This afternoon we brought our Christmas decorations downstairs and prepared a space for the tree which still occupies the boot of the car.

Jackie picked a precocious hellebore bloom and placed it in a little brown Victorian cream jug gathered by Matthew during our mudlarking days.

Later, she trailed a string of coloured lights along the front garden trellis.

The Christmas lights at Lymington, where we dined at Lal Quilla, were inviting, but I forgot my camera. Although it is several months since we last visited the restaurant we received our usual warm welcome and excellent meals with Kingfisher beer.

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.’

An Aid To Autosuggestion

The weather today could not have been more of a contrast to yesterday’s. It was several degrees warmer, wet, and overcast. I took a short walk along Hordle Lane to visit the horses in a waterlogged Yeatton Cottage paddock.

These miserable looking animals, wrapped in their winter rugs, could not even show their customary interest in my presence. They probably would have preferred raincoats.

The Shetland pony belongs to the owners of the cottage who let space to accommodate the other two.

The photograph of the waterspout taken on the beach at Shanklin in September 1968 that featured in my post of 3rd November, when I hung it on the downstairs loo wall, has proved so popular I may have to leave it there. Clearly it offers an aid to autosuggestion. Flo is so taken with it that she asked for a copy. I made one when I returned from my walk. Our friend Paul Clarke, when he last visited with Margery, brought me a pack of A3+ size photographic paper that had been found in a car boot sale. He thought I could at least use it for test prints. I used it for this picture and found it of excellent quality.

Before dinner Jackie drove Flo and me on a rather abortive Christmas lights tour. Lymington and New Milton still had them lit up in their streets, but Brockenhurst had switched off one side of the street and Lydhurst’s were extinguished altogether. Even the garden of the famous private house in Bartley was in darkness. The real star of the trip was, when it freed itself from the clouds, the almost full moon.

On our return we all dined on Jackie’s sausage casserole, as always, improved with keeping; and potatoes, cabbage, carrots,a and cauliflower, all cooked to perfection. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I finally opened an excellent bottle of Bois du Riche Margaux 2007 given to me by Shelly and Ron for Christmas 2013. And drank some of it.