Yesterday Ron told me about his discovery of a collection of negatives made by his father, Ray Salinger, in the 1940s and ’50s.
Ron scanned these high quality photographs of drinkers in The Walkford pub and e-mailed them to me. We think the man in the apron is the milkman who has just delivered the milk the barman is holding – by horse and cart, of course.
On a humid-damp, dull, overcast afternoon, after a visit to the pharmacy at Milford on Sea, Jackie drove us to
Keyhaven where I walked along the harbour wall.
Strong winds swept across the high tide surface, sending rippling waves shunting weedy scum seething against the stonework,
and sweeping bent grasses alongside.
I watched various boats speeding around the harbour; and a
sailboarder prepare his steed and weave his way among the moored craft.
A boisterous dog enjoyed chasing a floating stick its owner kept throwing for the purpose;
a pair of swans drank their fill.
Perhaps in consideration of the engineers involved in cable work, the owners of a house nearby had placed a polite notice at the start of a neatly mown drive across the sward.
We continued along Saltgrass Lane and observed walkers on Hurst Spit.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy lamb curry, savoury rice, and plain parathas with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Saint Emilion. I was given a special addition of a dish of fried onions, chillis, and garlic to increase the heat of my portion.