gulls – Page 12 – derrickjknight

Leatherjackets are the grubs emerging from eggs laid in the grass by craneflies the year before. They eat the roots of the sward. This, and the fact that the adults are not very nimble fliers and therefore inclined to become entangled in her hair, is why, during our current plague of them, Jackie can be seen dashing around waving a fly swat.

Having satisfied her blood-lust this morning she drove us out to Kings Somborne to have a look at The Cruck Cottage, which is currently for sale. This, dating from the fifteenth century is a fascinating building. It has a cruck or crook frame, in which a pair of timbers are positioned to support the roof. These long, generally bent, beams lean inwards and form the ridge. They are generally secured by an horizontal beam to create an A shape. Several of these crooks are constructed on the ground and then lifted into position. Lower cross beams join them together in order to prevent racking, which is each individual frame going out of square and risking collapse. I imagine that if this house were going to fall down it would have done so by now.

We realised I may have trouble entering this particular example of the genre.

From there we drove on to Emsworth for Ian’s birthday tea party at the Driftwood Cafe.

We arrived early and sat by the harbour for a while. The area was full of activity. Dogs and children were being walked, or pushed in buggies; the promenade supported assorted silhouetted figures promenading; gulls relaxed on the water; an artist began a sketch; ice creams ran down forearms and dripped off elbows; young sailors came home to port, and boats were hauled up onto paving that had been dry until their bilge flowed onto it.

Something had been lost in translation during the booking of the beautifully laid Afternoon Tea table. A high chair had been provided. We joked about who it was for. It was soon removed and replaced. The staff clearly enjoyed offering this particular service. They delighted in their excellent catering and presentation, as did we. Like up-market confetti, little gold discs and tiny red representations of balloons were carefully strewn upon the exquisite tablecloth. Tea, coffee, and apple juice were provided immediately and we only had a short wait for two three-tier cake stands layered with dainty, well-filled, sandwiches; small delicate cakes, heart-shaped shortbread biscuits tasting of butterscotch; and huge, fresh and tasty scones, to be placed with pleasure upon the table. A lighter was applied to the single, blue and white striped, miniature candle pressed into Ian’s scone. Dishes of jam and clotted cream completed the festive fare. We had a fun time.

After this Becky, Ian, and I took Scooby for a walk whilst Flo Grannie-sat and treated her to a viewing of the film ‘Happy Feet’. Brook Meadow Nature Reserve, through which flows the River Ems, lies just behind North Street. It is where we walked today. Embedded on the parapet of a bridge over the river is a plaque in memory of:

Leaving the family to enjoy their evening we returned to Minstead soon afterwards.

What began as a trip to Hordle to look at another house seen on a website turned into an enjoyable day out. We had been promised white cloud all day, but the weather was much more pleasantly changeable than that.

Oak Tree Cottage in Woodcock Lane looks a serious contender. As we were nearby we had another look at the house in Frys Lane in Everton, then set off north west to Matchams to see North Lodge again. Frys Lane, which has been under offer for a long time and now back on the market, still appeals. North Lodge is a very attractive house indeed, but somewhat isolated and subject to traffic noise.

Between these two houses we spent a most pleasant couple of hours in Mudeford, the beach huts of which we had seen from the sea on 30th August. Jackie told me Matthew had loved crabbing when he was small.

She said all anyone had to do was to drop a line into the water, and masses of crustaceans would be clinging to it when it was drawn up. That is exactly what we watched. So did the gulls who wheeled and swooped whenever they spotted the quivering claws. Especially when a group knocked over their bucket and the catch sidled as fast as they could in order to throw themselves off the quayside like a troop of lemmings off a cliff face.

Sometimes the sky was filled with gulls; sometimes the sea and sky scape together contained both gulls and buoys.

The quayside contained much paraphernalia of more professional catching of crabs. Pots were piled up in an orderly fashion. Coiled ropes and folded nets were of various bright colours. Starlings flocked everywhere. Some camouflaged themselves on the lids of the crab pots, their iridescent speckled plumage blending well with the containers’ mesh and turquoise thread.

These vociferous and gregarious birds rivalled the gulls for perches on the roof tiles, as they performed their swan song before setting off for warmer climes. A quieter congregation on the roof of the Haven House Inn listened attentively to a grandee seeming to prepare them for their journey. Noticing what the building was, we were tempted inside for cod and chips each, a pint of Ringwood best for me, and a half of Kronenberg for Jackie. Whilst we were enjoying our meals, two women we later learned were sisters, entered and debated whether they should eat inside or out. Each option was preferred by a different sister. Eventually the lover of the outdoors appeared to win the day, and out they went. ‘I’ll give them five minutes and they’ll be back’, said Jackie. She was nearly right. One came inside, where we were snugly ensconced, within about three. Well, it was brewing up for rain.

The slimmer woman sat beside us waiting for her meal. Both lunches were brought to her table and she sent her sister’s bowl of cheesy chips outside. When we finished and left,

the woman outside was absolutely surrounded by shimmering, silent, starlings. Starlings to the right of us; starlings to the left of us; starlings in front of us.

They perched on the rails surrounding the dining area; they perched on the chairs; they perched on the paving stones. Occasionally a courageous member of the flock alighted on the table.

Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’ was nothing to this invasion and raid on the poor woman’s meal. She took it all in good part and occasionally offered a chip.

She expressed the thought that she would go inside soon.

After our substantial lunch, we dined later than usual on cheese omelette, baked beans and toast. Apparently there are baked beans that are not Heinz. The tins bear the Branston logo, and they are obtainable in Lidl. They are just as good.

Having taken far more pictures than appear in this post, with the young lady’s permission, I just had to go back inside and show them to the other sister. She, naturally thought the situation hilarious, and told me her sibling was equally attractive to wasps.