hellebores – Page 8 – derrickjknight

Hoisted By My Own Petard

This morning, whilst Jackie continued with her planting, tidying, and extensive garden maintenance, I carried out some more work on refining the gravel path in the front garden. This involved marking out a line, digging up and either moving or rejecting stray plants, and replacing some rocks and concrete that line the side nearest the house. Some of the hellebores were so interested in my activities that their normally shy flowers actually raised their heads. These can be seen my clicking on the image above.

‘A Suitable Boy’, Vikram Seth’s novel, a magnificent saga of an Indian family, came up in conversation recently. Although not normally a name-dropper, I just had to mention that I had received a very complimentary letter from the author a dozen years ago. In ‘The Listener Setters’ Dinner’ I describe how this came about.

The Times Listener Crosswords were ones that I enjoyed setting during a period of about twenty years. They are termed ‘advanced cryptics’ as they are very difficult both to create and to solve. The clue solving was often the easy part, as there is always a final twist that requires further thought and activity. One of my devices was to involve solvers in producing a drawing at the end. Four-Letter Word was one of these that earned the praise of Mr Seth.

Thinking it might be fun to present this to my WordPress readers, I consulted my albums of published puzzles. Because of the nature of this work, I was required to solve the entry method. I couldn’t do it without a struggle that took me quite a long time. Well, it was as long ago as 12th October 2002 that it appeared in the newspaper. The solution, published on 2nd November, for reasons that will become apparent, didn’t have much printed in the grid. Thus, I was hoisted by my own petard.

I am fully aware that most of my readers will not be familiar with cryptic crosswords, so I will not bother you with the clues. It is the theme I would like to offer.

The drawing I wanted to create needed flowing curves. How on earth was I to manage this on a typical square grid? It was after six months thought that I hit upon the idea of using hexagons in a honeycomb. That particular device was not original, but I like to think the use to which I put it was.

Focussing on the preamble and the grid, and ignoring the clue column, this is what solvers were presented with:

The preamble is the paragraph on the left beneath the title. It explains what is required in addition to solving the clues. The grid is where the answers are written.

Examples of entries given in the above illustration are 30 REGRET, 31 RIPPLE, and 32 PENNON.

Once the whole grid has been completed and the correct sequence of letters blocked in, an outline that could be a cat is produced. I have used a highlighter to make it stand out. The initial letters of the 8 letter answers, in clue order, spell out CHESHIRE, helping to identify Lewis Carroll’s character. For clarity I have not confused the issue with a fully completed grid.

With a little artist’s licence, solvers will have reproduced a suggestion of Sir John Tenniel’s famous illustration to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

In that story, the creature disappears leaving its GRIN. Thus, according to the preamble’s instructions, solvers, having used a pencil, are to rub out everything but the four-letter word appearing above hexagon 38. This location is shown in the entry examples given above.

This evening, for our dinner, Jackie’s delicious chicken jalfrezi and egg fried rice was supplemented by the contents of a doggy bag provided by Lal Quilla last night. We were grateful that Elizabeth hadn’t been able to finish the chef’s special that she had enjoyed. So did we.

Spring According To Susan Hill

This morning I ambled gingerly down to the Shorefield post box and back. My right knee remains sharply painful. Perhaps I am stuck with it. A few sturdy daffodils, such as this one alongside snowdrops, cyclamen, hellebores, and pulmonaria in the shady bed, swayed bravely in the strong breeze blowing through our garden. Our several varieties of camellia shrubs are now quite full of blooms. Primulas and celandines adorned the hedgerows on Downton Lane. Stick-insect-like Lichen clinging to budding branches, and golden gorse glowed above them. Susan Hill’s ‘yellow season’ is arriving.

At the other end of the day heavy rainclouds over the garden were given a peachy tinge by the setting sun. I was showered by peach juice whilst shooting the scene.

I am becoming addicted to antiques programmes on daytime TV. Is this the thin end of the wedge?

This evening’s dinner was Jackie’s flavoursome cottage pie with crisp cabbage and carrots, followed by custard tart. She drank Hoegaarden and I imbibed Chateau Clos Renon Bordeaux superieur 2012.

I Couldn’t Shoot The Pheasant

This is today’s second post, because I jumped the gun and fired off the first too early.

In order to clear the area for Aaron to finish his work on the back drive, I had a bonfire this afternoon. At one point, walking back to the house, past snowdrops, hellebores, and other early flowers, a sudden raucous squawk and ungainly flapping sound alerted me to the cumbersome upward ascent of a brightly coloured male pheasant that had emerged from the ground beneath the bird feeders near the kitchen window. Because my camera was sealed up in my working trousers pocket, I was unable to get in a shot of this unusual visitor.

Fortunately there was enough of Jackie’s superb lamb jalfrezi meal from two days ago for us to have some more this evening. This time we finished the Isla Negra together.

Portrait Of A Village

A sprinkling of rain refreshed us as we wandered round the garden this morning, discovering everywhere a fine varied crop of hellebores in full bloom.

This afternoon Jackie had a coffee date with Helen. Although the high temperature in Milford on Sea was only forecast to reach 3 to 4 degrees, we were to expect sunshine and showers, so my lady drove me there before going on to Highcliffe to meet her sister. It seemed to me that this would be an opportune time to wander about the village with my camera. No-one had mentioned that the showers would be hail and sleet, the first of which struck as Jackie drove away. I spent the next two and a half hours alternately circumperambulating the one way system and the green; taking shelter when necessary; and sitting on wet benches; but I was rewarded with suitable light.

The Red Lion pub can be seen in the above picture. The village also boasts The Smugglers Inn, past which a woman with a walking aid carried home her shopping. Other residents, some with dogs and some with children, were similarly occupied.

One woman was forced to keep tugging her dog away from the gutter as she passed the Post Office. The Telephone and pillar boxes stand beside The Old Smithy which is now a gift shop.

The usual airborne warfare took place over the rooftops as gulls battled for perches.

There are a number of good quality antique shops like ‘The Village’ which has interesting china and glassware in one rain-spattered window, and one of those dolls which are so lifelike as to appear ghoulish to us, in another.

The Charity Shop received regular visitors, and Marjory’s Florist and Fruiterers next door displayed rich red rhubarb and, I think, persimmons.

The eyes of a stunning child’s portrait gleamed through the glass window of Lynk Photography Studios, which occupies an attractive building on a corner site.

To the rear of this building steep steps lead down to someone’s cocooned entrance door.

At the high point of the green can be found other residences I though worthy of note, such as:

Green Cottage,

Myrtle Cottage,

and Milford Cottage.

Towards the end of my photoshoot, driven by sleet and hail, and attracted by its appetising window display, I, almost literally, since the dining area is quite a bit lower than street level, dived into Polly’s Pantry where, in convivial company with friendly service, I enjoyed a warming pot of tea. Some two hours before this I had exchanged greetings with a plucky, disabled, elderly gentleman who, with the help of a wheeled walking aid made his cheerful way along the undulating pavements. He did say it wasn’t very pleasant weather, but hardly in a complaining manner. This was Percy who, as I sat at my table, opened the door and manoeuvred his frame down the step where he was warmly welcomed as an obvious regular, and assisted to his seat, by the young lady who happily entered my shot of the shop. Nick, the young proprietor bakes all the cakes you see in the picture.

I was rather relieved when Jackie arrived to take me home to thaw out and, later, to enjoy her delicious lamb jalfrezi and glorious savoury rice, accompanied by Castillo Albai reserva rioja 2010.

Back To Work Tomorrow

Jackie’s bedroom seedlings of nasturtiums and marigolds have woken up to the season and are springing forth.

We drove to The Firs, calling in first at the Village Shop to deposit dry cleaning; the bottle bank near Minstead Hall; then on to Lyndhurst to post a couple of parcels and visit the NatWest Bank to transfer some money to the Barclays account in France. It is a reality of village life that no longer can we pop across the road, as in London, to satisfy our every whim. But who cares?

Even the trip to Elizabeth’s was dual purpose. The Firs has been my business address for some years now, so I needed to collect my post. The main reason, however, was to survey the garden and make a start on this year’s work therein. We were delighted to see how much the plants have benefitted from the composting of the last two years, and in particular how the new beds now look established.

The winter has been so wet, so cold, and so long, that Elizabeth was only able to begin weeding last Sunday. That is therefore a priority, after the cutting of the grass, composting, and a bit of refurbishment to one of the bins I made last summer. When contemplating setting out on a long and daunting task it is always a satisfactory delaying tactic to make a list and start mañana. So we had lunch with my sister, made lists in our heads, and arranged to return tomorrow. Well, at least a commitment has been made.

Fritillaria meleagris is one of the many bulbs planted in the autumn, hoping they would come up in the spring. They have, as have tete-a-tete and other daffodils, such as white narcissi; muscari; numerous hellebores; self-seeded primulas; and a variety of pansies, notably those surrounding the bird bath. Many other flowers, in the beds and in various containers, have survived, and we are able to imagine how everything will look when it is all tidied up. But before that we must get back to work tomorrow.

A further very good reason, I convinced myself, for not making a start today, was that I needed to complete the paperwork for my accountant, and get a cheque off to EDF in France to cover the estimated electricity bill for rue Saint Jacques, since it has been sitting in The Firs whilst I was in France, and gone past the settle before date. We therefore had to go back home so that I could do that. And I did.

Further wildlife, in the form of two boys playing football on the lawn; and a young girl building a den in the far corner behind the rhododendrons, has emerged to enjoy the better weather.

This evening we enjoyed a meal of Aldi oven fish and chips, mushy peas, and gherkins.