Furzedown mini marathon – derrickjknight

Mini Marathon Part 2

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

We began this dull, overcast, day with two trips to the dump with three bags of clippings. Returning with only a towel rack, this was almost a first. (A first would be coming away empty-handed).

After a little clearing up in the garden, by request, I printed a photograph of Jackie’s great-nephew, Billy, that I had made on 18th February, for his maternal grandparents.

This afternoon I continued scanning the mini marathon negatives I had begun yesterday.

I think this child wanted to get back into her pushchair. She was happier later, in her chariot.

The toddler who began the race in his Dad’s arms, then progressed to the shoulders, has now found his feet, and is bearing down on No. 2.

Another pushchair rider brings up the rear of this particular group.

No. 24 is perfectly composed,

while No. 22 took uncomfortable advantage of a lift.

No. 19 seems to be disrobing, perhaps having adequately warmed up.

Hang on, Sam. You haven’t finished yet.

At least one Dad is flagging;

perhaps the cuddly toy is the camel’s straw. Encouraged by his brother and sister, Sam has realised he has another lap to do,

as have a number of others.

The flagging Dad has got a second wind;

and Granny, determined to stay ahead, has got her first.

Nos. 1 and 2, held onto their respective positions, earning them first refreshment scoff.

This evening we dined on cheese-centred fish cakes, savoury rice, new potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, green beans, and baked beans, followed by orange trifle. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I trank Prestige de Calvet Bordeaux 2014.

Mini Marathon Part 1

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

Today’s rain was heavier, and steady. We drove to the Post Office in Hordle to replenish my stock of stamps and send the French water payment on its way. The next visit was to have been to the dump with our bags of hedge and other clippings. We didn’t fancy that so we went to Molly’s Den to seek out a belated Birthday present for Jackie. We were successful.

This is it. No, not the lions.

Too much for us to manage, she will be delivered on Monday.

On our way home we pass fields full of sheep. Today we noticed that they had recently been shorn. Although Jackie observed that it was probably kind to remove the fleece from these creatures at this time of the year, I commented that I would not like to be stripped naked and shoved out in the rain.

Should you wish to see what happens when a sheep remains unshorn, you may like to follow this link: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3220414/Enormous-Canberra-sheep-overgrown-fleece-gets-haircut-years.html

Towards the end of 1983, Sam participated in a mini marathon organised by his nursery school in South West London’s Furzedown. I had photographed the event. I made an album of prints and presented them to the organisers. I thought I had lost the negatives, until I was delighted to discover them alongside the Devon holiday ones I have featured over the last couple of days.

Even when supported by Becky and Jessica, Louisa didn’t think much of the idea of joining in.

This little chap seemed determined to live up to his numbering.

Matthew, on the left, came along for the encouragement. The gentleman on Sam’s right offered his, too.

This Dad had his hands full.

No. Sam was not sponsored by Kentucky Fried Chicken. I sported his number earlier.

Some entrants needed a helping hand or two.

Despite appearances, I don’t think this young lady was about to go sprawling.

Hallo. Number 13’s Dad has hoisted the toddler onto his shoulders, as the leader notches up another carefree lap.

Sam, meanwhile is in hot pursuit of No. 11 as she drifts past No. 7;

those two have Mums in support; Sam has Mat and Becky. Six months earlier they had run alongside me as I completed my first London Marathon.

In a ring of supporters Jessica steadies the tally board. Louisa, on the right, still wonders what could be going on.

No. 1 retains his lead,

while the toddler on the grass appears to have wandered off piste.

I featured a photograph taken later at this event in ‘Out On Their Feet Amid The Confetti’. There it is clear that I had forgotten that Sam was the only contestant wearing a genuine marathon number, and that I had saved it from the Farnham Castle Marathon.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s superb sausage casserole, crisp carrots, cauliflower, green beans, and new potatoes, followed by apple pie and custard. She drank Hoegaarden, and I finished the madiran.

Out On Their Feet Amid The Confetti

Yesterday I forgot to mention the outcome of my visit to Simon Richards, the hand surgeon. That can only be a good sign. He has discharged me, but physiotherapy will continue for some time. The middle joint on the little finger remains bent rigid. He has advised me to practice straightening it with brute force from my right hand. That’s painful. And scary. Rather like holding a newborn baby, I don’t want to break it. But it seems to be working.

Wind still gusts around the garden, but we do have sunshine and showers.

A new rhododendron is in bloom;

an ant perches on the first of our colourful alliums to arrive;

the thymes I rescued from the blue sinks last year have thrived;

as has the heavily Corokia cotoneaster outside the back door;

and the clematis Niobe enlivens the kitchen wall.

The rain, reinforced by a fierce fusillade of hailstones, soon returned and watered my charges for me.

These mimuluses, hosta, heuchera, and cosmos have yet to be planted up.

I returned to the task of identifying and scanning the prints retrieved from Elizabeth.

Here, Michael and Sam are seated in the garden of Gracedale Road in June 1983.

Later that year, Sam tucks into refreshments after completing the Furzedown mini-marathon.

This was a fund-raising event for the children’s nursery school. Clearly the professional-looking number tags had been donated by the organisers of the Farnham Castle Marathon, sponsored by Kentucky Fried Chicken. I made a complete black and white portfolio of the occasion for the school. Some parents bought copies. If I ever find the negatives, I think the pictures would warrant their own post.

(I did find the negatives. This post and the next two feature the pictures)

Sometime in 1984, Michael appears to be watching telly in the lounge of Gracedale Road. Probably an Arsenal football match.

Also in 1984 we attended Tony and Liz’s wedding. Here is a portrait of Becky taken there.

That was the period in which I was converting colour negatives to black and white prints, using an enlarger and chemicals. Goodness knows how, I certainly don’t remember. Now I can do it at the touch of a mouse, so who cares?

This, from the same set, was scanned from a 10″ x 8″ print.

Louisa was there too. Here, putting me in mind of the bridesmaid from 1970, she, too, seems to be out on her feet, and contemplating whether the confetti would soften the paving stones sufficiently to provide a feather bed.

There was more than enough of Jackie’s delicious beef stew for my meal this evening. I also finished the Madiran wine.