The final fatal body blow to my hopes for a daily post during my hospital stay was dealt by EE mobile on the late afternoon of the day before my surgery. Today I began to fill in the gaps with the entry planned for
8th January 2019
On this bright, sunny, morning we set out to enjoy a drive in the forest and to gather a few photographs for my final pre-op publication.
We began by joining a number of bird watchers at Eyeworth Pond near Fritham. Three gentlemen sat on rails, at their lunches, and watched the waterfowl.
Others, like me, photographed
the various tits, including those of blue, marsh, and long tailed examples; thrushes; and a robin, tempted by feeders suspended from branches, and by nuts left on posts, flitting about among the surrounding trees and shrubs, pecking up scraps among the gravel beneath.
Ducks, geese, and a moorhen, occasionally diving for their prey, and surfacing dripping and glistening with pond-water, could certainly be said to have gone fishing.
Ponies basked in the midday sun at Fritham,
where donkeys also grazed
We brunched at Hockey’s Farm Shop before continuing
via Roger Penny Way where pools were filling up for drinking and paddling.
As we drove along the Poulner stretch of Southampton Road, we wondered why there was a seemingly equal body of water being sprayed by vehicles on its surface.
The answer lay in a Christmas tree that still had its lights cascading.
I had, this morning received a message from Alex at Peacock Computers informing me that my laptop was ready for collection. This, of course, meant that I could be on line in hospital.
It was therefore with a certain amount of glee that I sat down to draft this post.
Then came the blow. We had no internet connection and the router was dead. I took this equipment with me to Peacock Computers where James confirmed my diagnosis. Even though it was close to his own closing time, James sped off to the EE shop, attempting to obtain a replacement. After more than an hour of negotiation he returned with a loaned device and an undertaking to repair the faulty article. At least I came home with my MacBook Pro.
I was unable to make the loaned router work. The reason will be revealed in a subsequent post. Eventually I conceded defeat.
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Early this morning, Ross visited briefly to help Richard move the furniture back to the far end of the kitchen. Richard then set about building the bespoke cabinets and work surfaces. These had all been designed and cut to size in the craftman’s workshop. Clamps were applied to the sections; screws selected from the relevant boxes; the drill and spirit level employed;
and further refining cuts made with the chop saw, equipped with its own laser beam.
At lunchtime we left Richard to his work and visited Otter Nurseries café for lunch. My choice was ham, egg, and chips; Jackie’s was macaroni cheese, salad, and garlic bread.
We then took a trip through the forest. At Staplewood Lane
we experienced what must have been rerun of a 1950s cartoon. A paddle of ducks swam in a full ditch.
A scout, leading them across the road to Little Staplewood Farm, spotted a black and white cat advancing from a distance, and alerted its discombobulated followers
to turn back to the safety of the water, and cross the road when the coast was clear.
Sylvester, however, had sneaked into the farmyard and hidden under a Range Rover. He was not unnoticed by the guinea fowl, the geese, and other ducks who set up a vociferous alarm. One of the geese, in particular, was bent on saving Rome.
Towards the end of the day, before Richard carried out his customary spotless clean and tidying, he paused with a coffee and discussed with Jackie this week’s progress and plans for the next. She looks quite pleased.
This evening we dined on tasty fresh chicken and egg salad. I also enjoyed an excellent ham and cheese sandwich.
Playing Bookworm with Malachi commenced at 6.30 a.m. today. Thus the morning was whiled away.
This afternoon Jackie drove me and the children to Hatchet Pond to feed the birds on prawn crackers.
We just had time to disembark from the car before the sky darkened, severe winds blew, and rain pelted down. This was the view we had of the lake through the windscreen.
The rain eased up a bit and the black-headed gulls fought against the gusts.
Soon the children could attempt to feed the gulls and the ducks. This was made somewhat difficult by the wind tossing their offerings this way and that.
Only the sharpest birds managed to catch a cracker.
Eventually the sun returned and a stately swan steered her cygnets sailing across the now smoother surface of the water.
She was set on joining her cob who had gone ahead at the sight of a gentleman who now felt it safe enough to brave the elements and feed them.
Father swan had his eye on a large slice of bread bobbing in the water.
Thrusting all competition aside he snaffled the bread, ready to distribute it among his offspring.
Returning via East End, we admired the completed work of New Forest Master Thatchers.
This evening we all dined on Mr Pink’s fish and chips, followed by vanilla ice cream. Holly and I drank Ring Bolt Margaret River cabernet sauvignon 2014, and Sam drank Guinness.
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It wasn’t until early evening that the clarity of the dawn skies was to be repeated today.
Jackie discovered that the Big Beast had dug its way under her reinforced log last night, further trampled the cyclamen, and knocked over the obelisk. Undeterred, she put back the loose soil and buried more, lower, stakes around the wooden peg.
Elizabeth came for lunch which consisted of cold meats and salads. After this she and I photographed bugs on the diamond jubilee tulips. The first is mine with my Canon EOS 5D;
the next two with my Canon SX700;
and finally, Elizabeth’s with her i-Phone, by which time the bugs had fled.
Later, we took a drive to the north of the forest.
On Flexford Lane in Sway, we needed to wait on the verge for a horse and rider with a cycling escort, followed by a white van, to pass.
The gorse-covered hills below Abbot’s Well at Frogham glowed in the evening light.
Jackie and Elizabeth turned and spotted me photographing them as they stood in the car park.
The colourfully attired gentleman beside them obligingly took his own camera into the landscape, thus providing a foil to my photographs.
As we left, a pony drank from a reflective pool.
As we approached the Cadnam roundabout near the end of Roger Penny Way, we noticed a flock of sheep blocking a turning to our left. As soon as she could Jackie turned around so we could see what was happening. The woolly animals were steadfastly making their way past our car to the aforementioned major road,
where they caused a total standstill.
Looking back down the lane we saw what seemed like the final stragglers,
who picked up speed and galloped in panic after the main group.
In fact they were not the last. Two more had been left behind. We hoped they found their friends.
Further along this lane a very small sow snuffling against a wall, became excited by our presence, perhaps hoping for a chat.
Around the next bend a couple of ducks had taken possession of a watery verge.
One was an Indian runner. We didn’t recognise the other.
Finally, a collection of chickens scampered from the verge when we stopped beside them.
This evening the three of us dined on Jackie’s splendid chilli con carne, savoury rice, and green beans. The ladies drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Malbec.
Jackie and I began the day with a drive in the forest, in order to see how the thatching at East End was progressing.
A shallow stream ran over the ford at Norleywood, enhancing the beauty of the shadows on the road ahead.
A pair of donkeys breakfasted on the hedgerows opposite the house
on which the skilled roofing work had commenced.
As is their wont, one of these creatures crept, silently, up behind me to see if I had any carrots. I am mean enough to disappoint them, however, feeding them is not advised by the verderers, unless you want to catch Weill’s disease.
Jackie had driven further up the road to turn round, by which time the donkeys really had claimed the road.
The other two large lorries were still parked outside the neighbouring house. One was being loaded with soil dug out from the garden.
High above the chicken range a solitary Thelwell child’s pony also enjoyed its morning meal.
The chickens cooed and clucked around their chook house,
sharing their repast with crows,
ducks,
and pheasants, which were freer to roam.
One of the llamas sat with a silly grin on its face
as another gurned at me.
A trio of cyclists paused at the road junction to take their bearings.
They were small fry compared with those who were to limit our progress on the road to Brockenhurst.
As we approached that village, Jackie expressed the wish that they would not be going our way. No such luck.
This afternoon we continued, focussing on the rose and front gardens, preparing for an alfresco summer.
This evening we dined on shepherd’s pie topped with layers of cheddar cheese and mushrooms; crisp carrots, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts and runner beans. Jackie finished the Cotes de Gascoigne and I drank more of the shiraz.
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No, there is no letter missing from the title. All will be revealed to those who have the perseverance to make it through the bumper morning’s photographic haul.
Although Jackie is far from well, she was determined on a lengthy forest drive on this clear, crisp, morning. Each time I tried to convince her that I had enough pictures, she refused to turn back for home.
Just around the corner in Hordle Lane, gaps in the hedge brought us into eye contact with sheep who have adopted the colouring of the stubble they have been sent to nibble, and the soil they are revealing.
Our first stop was at Wootton, where the breath of a ridden horse wafted against the arboreal backdrop.
From there we parked on a gravel path beside a group of ponies. While my eyes were fixed on these, Jackie became highly excited by a herd of deer bouncing through the bracken. They were about to cross the road. I abandoned the horses and rushed to the tarmac where
I was fortunate enough to hit my cervine target.
My luck held when I returned to the ponies,
where one, ignored by its drowsy companions, showed two clean pairs of heels in rolling over for a scratch,
then clambered to its feet.
A little further along Wootton Road I spent some time exploring the stream,
partly iced over and penetrating still frosted landscape.
Negotiating networks of roots, and taking advantage of the apparent firmness of
frozen terrain,
I was able to explore areas that had been too muddy to venture into in the past. Mind you, I did manage to fill my left shoe with freezing water, and make the rest of the trip in a more than adequate ice-pack.
A frozen hat hanging over the stream had me wondering whether the owner had got a bit wet.
It hung beside one of the many tyre swings that I have spotted in the forest. Had there been a mishap?
Eventually, glancing back at the more open landscape,
I joined Jackie, patiently waiting in the car with her puzzle book.
We moved on to Helen’s favourite view, from the Picket Post car park near Ringwood.
I walked out along the ridge around a deep valley, where I noticed a gentleman looking down the hillside.
He was waiting for female and canine companions.
Frost still lay in the sunless sides of the slope,
whereas it had melted on others.
A beribboned tree provided me with a mystery. My solution is that an enterprising wedding photographer led the bride and groom to this spot for some romantic images. That’s what I might have done, anyway.
Leaving this landscape behind us
we progressed to Eyeworth Pond where twitchers were out in force.
Someone had hung a number of feeders on the trees, and placed seed on the barrier to the footpath. They attracted, among others, blue tits, nuthatches, robins, and blackbirds.
Was this a sparrow hiding in the holly?
Numerous ducks paddled on the lake,
and the area bore its own frosted landscape.
Here, I did manage to miss a tree root and take a tumble. Never mind, the camera was safe.
Before leaving Fritham I failed to interest a pair of dozing donkeys in conversation.
It was then I noticed a phenomenon that should not have surprised me. The breath of the slumbering equine creatures came at very slow intervals and was feeble in its ascent into the ether. One could not hold up its head. The exhalation was nothing like that emitted by the exercising horse at the beginning of this saga. Makes sense really.
This evening Jackie produced a dinner of tender roast lamb, perfect roast potatoes, and crisp carrots with green beans, followed by spicy rice pudding. She drank sparkling water and I began an excellent bottle of Barolo 2012, given to me for Christmas by Helen and Bill.
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On a gloriously sunny morning that would have graced any day in Spring, Jackie drove me, via a network of of narrow, populated roads like
Platoff Road
and Normandy Lane, to a footpath leading to Keyhaven and Lymington Nature Reserve.
As I used my long lens to bring the masts of Lymington Marina into this shot of Canada geese congregating in a field, beside which Jackie parked the car, little did I realise I would make closer acquaintance with the boatyard before my trek was over.
As I walked along the path I noticed first a woman walking along what I soon realised was a brick path around the bird sanctuary;
then a cyclist approaching from the opposite direction.
Did they, I wondered, pass the time of day as they passed each other on their brief encounter.
A five-barred gate gave onto a sloping track that led to a large rectangular route around the water lands, around which others rambled.
This perambulator had obviously dressed to blend in with the gorse.
Waterfowl basked in their sanctuary.
I rely on my ornithologist friends to correct me if necessary, but I think this is a stationary heron being passed by paddling mallards;
whereas this is an egret admiring its reflection.
A slender pigeon-like like bird didn’t manage to merge into varieties of duck that I would need some help to identify.
The woman in the foreground of this picture, after I enjoyed a chat with her, had taken a rest on one of the suitably placed observation benches, but it didn’t take her long to overtake me again.
Bird watchers availed themselves of another seat.
About halfway round the rectangle, I realised that I had a choice between walking on to the marina to find my way back to the car from there, and retracing my steps. I’m not one for taking the latter option, but this has, on occasion, presented problems. I stopped group of people and asked if I could return to Normandy Lane from there. I was told I could, and how to do it, with the observation that I couldn’t get lost. “Don’t you believe it,” I replied. “I can get lost anywhere”.
The Wight Link ferry boat soon sailed past the marina.
Ducks took to the wing;
a jogger and a dog walker took no advantage of their brief encounter;
As I left the marina and approached a path that would lead me to Normandy Lane, I met the group who had directed me earlier. “You are still on track” was the cheery greeting. I hadn’t the heart to let them know that I had been somewhat delayed by taking an incorrect, muddy, track.
Jackie was waiting for me, some two hours after my departure. A little more than intended.
This evening we dined on second helpings of yesterday’s curries, with which I consumed Chapel Vineyard cabernet sauvignon 2015.
Jackie has planted one or two roses on the back drive. Given that they cost £1.49 each at Poundstretcher this one is inappropriately named ‘Dearest’ yet it has surprised us with its powerful, yet delicate, scent.
After a sniff round the garden, my Lady drove me on a circuitous route to Hatchet Pond and back.
Glimpsing a large reflective pool through trees at the bottom of Pilley Hill, I asked to be disembarked in order to investigate.
This was the larger building turned upside down;
and this another.
Cattle obligingly clambered down to the pool to drink.
They, too, were reflected.
Around the next bend ponies and their foals were keeping residents’ grass in order.
At Hatchet Pond we found that the cygnets are growing up,
but remain uncertain what to do with their legs.
There were many visitors to the water on this, the hottest day of the year so far.
Swans, gulls, and ducks, of course, live there.
Cattle drank and bathed.
I was not the only photographer.
Two brothers and their elegant little sister were also enjoying a paddle.
The father and boys played ducks and drakes, and were joined by mother and daughter with whom I had been chatting.
The delightful little girl announced that they were on holiday.
On the far side of the pond a donkey and her foal were snuggling among the shrubs,
and grazing ponies flanked an appropriate warning sign.
Incidentally I have often been asked about ownership of the forest’s free-roaming animals. Although they are free to roam they are owned by commoners with grazing rights. This explains the collars and tags usually seen around necks, or, in the case of cattle, pinned on their ears.
Much watering of plants was required this afternoon.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious sausage casserole, creamy mashed potato and swede, and perfect runner beans. This was followed by Tesco’s sublime strawberry trifle which we would have eaten with Jessie and Guru on Saturday had I not somewhat redistributed its constituents by dropping it (with its lid on) on the floor. Jackie drank her Hoegaarden and Bavaria mix, while I drank Gilbert & Gaillard Les 3 Couronnes Côtes du Rhône 2014
We managed to mess up our clock today. It was losing a minute or two a day so we decided to adjust it. After we had done so we had great difficulty in getting the pendulum back in. When we did, the clock stopped. We calmed down. Eventually. And this afternoon took it back to Martin at Dials.
Christchurch and Lymington Roads are now subject to flooding, so we were given numerous washed by the spray thrown up by cars, and especially lorries, in front.
Apart from the ducks on the quayside water there was not much life in Lymington,
and what there was was covered in waterproofs or wielding umbrellas. Even Quay Street was rather deserted.
The post person had made a delivery to Old Solent House. The observant of you may be able to discover how I know by perusing the worn stone doorstep.
Forming a right angled corner between this house and Dials is a municipal ash tray. The soggy stubs thereon betrayed the fact that at least two smokers had abandoned their cigarettes.
Further down towards the quay a pair of slip-on shoes had been left outside a closed shop. Although they were under a short porch, I though their owner would probably go home in wet tights.
Given the nautical nature of the Quay Side Gift Shop window display, it probably welcomed the raindrops through which shoppers, had there been any, would have peered in order to absorb the suitable ambience,
reflected in the paving of the alley behind The Quay. Chewing gum spots get everywhere.
This evening we dined on a rack of pork ribs in barbecue sauce; Jackie’s egg fried rice; and prawns wrapped in filo pastry masquerading as roast parsnips, that The Cook termed ‘things’. Jackie enjoyed the last of the chablis and I drank Fortes del Colli chianti classico 2012.
