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Yesterday I expressed m intention to published the prints from Newark 1993. Today I changed my mind. I decided to hold them in reserve for the next dull day. This could have been one. But it wasn’t. It was one of bright, crisp, sunshine.
Jackie continued potting up
in the greenhouse.
After lunch, she drove us to Boscombe and back.
We stopped within sight of the pier.
As I walked down the slope, a young woman walked up.
A boat, approaching from the left, skirted the structure stretching seaward. Was it a lifeboat? The water was certainly rough enough for someone to be in trouble.
At the bottom of the slope two sculptures, one in a garden,
and another on Undercliff Drive, caught m attention.
I then had the serendipitous good fortune
a photo shoot
young ladies. The third, given that she was carrying out the same role as me, is not in shot.
As we left this suburb of Bournemouth, the skies gave promise of the good sunset we were to witness later.
Despite a propensity to allow his exuberance to take him swerving all over the road,
this joyful cyclist, seen here approaching Hengistbury Head, kept up a good 20 m.p.h. We parted company with him as he wheeled onto the footpath leading up the headland.
The sunset was ripe
the murmuration of starlings swirling over Holmsley was a sweeping cloud formation;
the crescent moon exchanged places with its daytime counterpart.
This evening we dined at The Monkey House pub just outside Lymington. The establishment was as packed as ever, demonstrating its quality and the friendliness of the staff. Jackie enjoyed prawn cocktail and gammon steak. My choice was whitebait followed by rib-eye steak. Everything excellently cooked. Jackie drank Amstell and I drank Flack’s Double Drop