Starting Handles

Field, newly sownStream, ferns, mare's tailsCattle behind cottageYoung man at bus stopSlugCaterpillarMan seated on shingleOn this brighter, balmy, day, the returning sunshine was welcomed by all; by me; by Roger’s newly sown fields; by ferns and mare’s tails on the bank of the stream; by basking cattle huddled behind the corner cottage; by a young man, with the customary electronic device, waiting for a bus; by slithering slugs and by creeping caterpillars on the footpath; and by one solitary wave watcher seated on the shingle.Steps

These are the steps Bob runs up and down.

On my return, whist Jackie continued her autumn tidying, I began the daunting task of digging out the more stubborn roots of bramble and ivy from the back drive. Bolt cutters were required for the removal of more of our predecessor’s metal mesh.Rooting out

As you can see, I didn’t get very far.

imagesMargery and Paul visited us this afternoon, and we enjoyed our usual wide-ranging conversations. Thinking of how times have changed over the last century, we embarked on the subject of early motoring. We travelled back to 1919 when Jackie’s grandfather acquired his first car, and never had to take a test. He would regularly drive himself from Anerley to Brighton when hardly another vehicle was to be seen on the road.Morris Minor starting handle She remembered her Dad cranking up a starting handle to get the car going, and jump into the car hoping the engine would continue running. The dog-legged shaped metal crank was shoved through a hole in front of the motor where its own female end engaged with a male one attached to the starting mechanism. This handle for the Morris Minor most resembles one I remember using to help my Dad get moving. You had to be quite vigorous in your cranking, and hope the equipment didn’t suddenly whizz round and break your wrist.

Later, Jackie and I watched, on BBC iPlayer, episode 2 of the 11th series of New Tricks. It was in the 9th series of 2012 – the last one I watched – that the skilful and watchable Denis Lawson replaced James Bolam as one of the old dogs, (who, according to proverb, cannot be taught new tricks), namely a trio of retired policemen under the management of a female officer played originally by Amanda Redman. Their task is to reopen investigations into unsolved crimes.

As with a number of successful TV series over the years, this comedy-drama began as a one-off – on 27th March 2003. Of the original cast only the everlasting Dennis Waterman remains. Redman has been replaced by Tamzin Outhwaite; and Alun Armstrong by Nicholas Lyndhurst.

Having found the rapport between the original cast members very entertaining, I will need to reserve judgement on the current team. One of the secrets of success of such productions is the chemistry between the actors. In my view this is a little lacking at the moment, but it is worth persevering with.

The supporting cast played their parts well.

Our evening meal consisted of Jackie’s classic sausage casserole (recipe), smooth mashed potato, and crisp carrots and peas, followed by jam sponge and custard. She drank Hoegaarden, whilst I enjoyed Isla Negra Cabernet Sauvignon 2013.

Sod’s Law

On the train from Southampton to Waterloo, to which Jackie delivered me this morning, an extremely rowdy, already drunken group of young men bearing beer cans and plastic wine glasses, accompanied by very tiny fascinators flickering and wobbling above very weighty women wearing dresses to match, fortunately alighted at Winchester.  One of the men rested his shod foot on a window.  As they left, two of them didn’t know which way to turn with their unwieldy plastic packing case containing further cans.  I wondered how they would fare at Ascot.

I finished reading John S. Morrill’s ‘The Stuarts’ and began Paul Langford’s ‘The Eighteenth Century’ in the Oxford Illustrated History of Britain.

Clapham Junction embankment

We paused outside Clapham Junction where the embankment was incongruously meadow-like.

Going to Ascot

The Ascot crowds convening at Waterloo displayed far more elegance and fascination than my earlier companions on the train.

Having previously determined against it, my trip of a couple of days ago demonstrated that whichever way I walked I was not going to escape the global influx, so I took my usual route to Green Park to catch the Jubilee Line train to Neasden, and Norman’s for lunch.

London Eye

The London Eye attracted its usual long queues.

Child on father's shouldersA little girl riding along the Embankment perched on her father’s shoulders reminded me of Becky’s superbly adapted Fathers’ Day card.

Becky's Fathers' Day card She, too, will not have forgotten that climb up Mount Snowdon.   I had walked up and down the Miners’ Track with her on my shoulders.  Although I copped out of the last bit to the summit I had walked up this route regarded as the easy one without too much trepidation.  That was because we were walking through clouds.

On the way down when they had cleared I realised that there was a sheer drop either side of the narrowest section of the path.

After I’d got past it, my shirt was wringing wet.  The only trousers available in the 1970s were that sartorial aberration, flares.  This made me think of a glorious episode of ‘Minder’ set in the 1980s when they were no longer de rigueur, and the hapless Arthur Daley, played so well by the marvellous George Cole, bought a bargain box of jeans.  The dismay on his face when he opened the container elicited amused delight from Dennis Waterman’s beautifully depicted Terry, and howls of laughter from me.  The garments were, of course, flared.

Discarded carnationWestminster Bridge was slightly less populated than usual.  A carnation (see post of 28th February) had been discarded on the pavement.  Carnation toutFurther along a vociferously combative middle-aged woman demanded £20 from a reluctant young man on whom she had planted another.

Taxi broken down

Pelicans, St. James's ParkA London taxi had broken down in a most unfortunate spot.  The driver alternated between tinkering outside with the engine and revving up the accelerator inside his cab.

Basking on their rocks, St. James’s Park’s pelicans enjoyed the spray from the fountain which cooled them on another sultry day.

Building works and traffic chaos

Building works had brought single lane traffic to St. James’s Street.  One had to weave around stationary taxis to negotiate zebra crossings.  As the meters continue to click over whilst the cabs are not able to move, I dread to think what the fares cost.

As I sat down to Norman’s roast pork dinner, I burst out laughing.  In response to his query I related a conversation I had had with Jackie last night.  While we were enjoying her roast pork dinner she had said: ‘You will have roast pork tomorrow’. ‘Eh?’, said I, ‘How do you know what Norman will give me?’.  ‘Sod’s law’, she replied.

This prompted Norman to tell his sod’s law story.  ‘When you drop a slice of bread and jam on the floor it always lands jam side down’. ‘Yes……’, said I, sensing there was more to come.  ‘Except’, continued my friend, ‘when you are demonstrating sod’s law’.  Perfect.

Carta Roja gran reserva 2005 accompanied today’s meal that was completed by summer pudding which he knows is one of my favourites.

I went on to Carol’s and thence back to Southampton by my normal routes, and Jackie drove me back to Minstead.