‘You Read That To Me Too’

Although I am virtually recovered from what my GP thought was diverticulitis, I still have a slight niggle in my lower abdomen. Jackie therefore drove me to a follow up visit this morning. No more antibiotics are required, but a blood test was recommended to confirm the diagnosis. We therefore went on to Lymington hospital where I provided a small amount of blood.

This process was so smooth and utterly painless that I was most impressed and told the phlebotomist so. He said ‘it doesn’t always go like that’.

In my earlier years I was a blood donor for a while. I got to thinking about this, and that led me on to recollect Tony Hancock’s classic TV programme of 1961. This youtube video is an extract just over four minutes long. There are many full length options on the same source.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zcZChdM0OiI&w=560&h=315]

Compare the early television screen with those of today.

My first mention of this classic came in my post ‘Early Entertainment’.

This afternoon we drove to Hobbycraft at West End where I bought some photo mount and Jackie some sequins, then on to Elizabeth’s where Danni cooked us all, including Andy,  an excellent chicken vindaloo, spinach and potatoes, and boiled rice, accompanied by naan, onion bhajis, and pakoras.

Chicken vindaloo

 

One of the drinks was an intriguing bottle of Mirza Ghalib vin de pays d’Oc 2005. This, a French wine, was produced specifically for drinking with curry. Given that the French are not big on Indian food this was rather surprising, yet effective.

Mirza Ghalib

One of our enjoyable conversations concerned hedgehogs. This led me to relate the tale of little Jessica telling the story of Nobby Bates, including June Brokas’s comment on the post, during which a look of recognition came over Danni’s face. ‘You read that to me, too’, said my niece. Elizabeth had also bought the book and read it to her two children, Danni and Adam.

That’s One I Made Earlier

The Milford Conservation Volunteers have developed a Wildlife Garden Project. This morning, as we travelled to Studland Drive, couples were seen walking all over the village clutching brochures which gave them admission to 25 gardens in the small coastal town.

One of these was the home of our old friend Giles Darvill, coordinator of the project. Giles himself has, in sixteen years, transformed a garden, except for a few extant mature trees, fully laid to lawn, into a haven for insects, birds and small animals. The local badger is not particularly welcome, as it eats hedgehogs. We were there to take the first 90 minute stint on the ‘door’. One of our tasks was the distribution of leaflets.
Giles’s garden, not manicured enough to pass muster for the National Gardens Scheme, is nevertheless truly inspirational,

and drew a steady stream of visitors.


The gardener has provided several useful notices, like that placed in front of the viper’s bugloss, a favourite of bees, giving informative ideas about installations to encourage various fauna.
Dead wood provides hibernation and nesting facilities for insects, whilst heaps of branches provide something similar for other small creatures. Creepy crawlies and bees are at home in the long grass.


Translucent blue damselflies flitted and hovered above the small pond bearing artefacts from our friend’s yachting activities. Other, smaller, containers of water are strategically placed around the delightful creation. One small pan contained two large pebbles. Realising that they would be for a particular purpose I asked Giles what this was. His answer was ‘mice’. These would be the field variety, such as the one I saw climbing and swaying on our poppies this morning.
Aesop’s crow had to work out how to bring the water in the pitcher to the level at which it could access it to drink. Giles’s mice have no need to scratch their heads for a solution.


The garden also contains many examples of its owner’s penchant for creating sculptural effects from found stone and wood. He has, for example, simply planted a cotoneaster stem to make its meandering way skywards.
I have mentioned before that Old Post House is decorated with a number of pieces of Giles’s stained glass. So is his own home.

When we admired a bird feeder featuring one, he said ‘I made that last night’.
Back home this afternoon, I walked down to the postbox and back,

meeting a pony trotting up the hill drawing a trap and its occupants.
This evening we dined at The Royal Oak, our neighbours. I enjoyed roast pork followed by blueberry cheesecake and ice cream; Jackie’s choice was mushroom stroganoff with ice cream to follow. She drank Becks. Doom Bar was off, so I settled for Ringwood Best.