An Uncomfortable Night

Sweet peas 8.12 trimmed

Today, much cooler and less humid than last weekend, was a very pleasant day for gardening.  Jackie, proud of the sweet peas she had grown from seed, continued with her planting and weeding, whilst I continued with the new bed.  This time, my main problem was the ivy.  Had I known just how much ivy there was concealed in what was once perhaps a shrubbery, no way would I have expected to finish this task so quickly.  Elizabeth and I had, in the spring, cleared a great deal of ivy from the laurel hedge at the front of the house.  But this was nothing compared to Sutherland Place, which I mentioned yesterday.  When I first took up my tenancy there in 2008, no-one had entered the small London terraced garden for 20 years.  The ivy had taken over.  It took me two complete weekends to clear it.

Jackie also mowed the lawn whilst Elizabeth, who has been unwell recently, weeded the herb bed.  Some years ago, a statue that Jacqueline had given Elizabeth, lived on the grass.  This little girl was moved around from site to site as the mowing required.  Last year, thinking that she really deserved a permanent home of her own, we moved her into a flower bed.  Now she stands on the remains of one of the brick pillars that held up the former pergola.  Mowing can now be undertaken without having to shift her, and she is left in peace to survey the activity.  Later Elizabeth mowed the front lawn.  I got a bit further past halfway in digging out the new bed.

I have never been one for camping, or barbecues, for that matter.  I like my home comforts, and cannot see the fun in struggling to light, and keep alight, an outside facility when there are perfectly good ovens and grills in the kitchen.  Yesterday I described Wolf and Luci’s caravan, which seems to me a pretty good method of going camping.  Louisa and Errol and their daughters are currently being flooded out of their tents, but they think that is all part of the fun.

So, why am I going on about the outdoor life?  Well, Barbara made a witty comment about camping after reading yesterday’s post.  This reminded me that the last time I went camping was by accident.  On 28th. May I wrote about the fundraising walk I had done in the summer of 2003 in support of Sam’s Atlantic Row.  Walking 215 miles in 11 days, as that post shows, was only the half of it.  What I didn’t mention in the Nettle Rash story, was the ten nights involved.  Sam’s friend James was accompanying him on the boat.  The vessel Sam was to spend 59 days alone in, rowing across the ocean, was purpose-built.  There was therefore a small cabin on board.  Designed for one, it was going to have to accommodate both Sam and James.  As I have already stated, I like my comfort, so the plan was that wherever we stopped at night, we would find me bed and breakfast accommodation.  That worked pretty well.  Most of the time.  The two occasions on which it didn’t would have to be consecutive, wouldn’t they?

Fortunately the nights were warm.  Fortunately James had brought a small tent which he was generously prepared to lend me.  Unfortunately there was no mattress, no ground-sheet, and no sleeping bag.  Because we hadn’t considered the possibility that we might decide to stop in the middle of nowhere.  On the first occasion, we managed to find me some sort of camp-site with tents, but no bedding of any sort, and latrines which I was quite unprepared to use.  I slept on the hard ground.  Yes, I did actually sleep.  When you’ve walked as much as I had, you’ll sleep anywhere.  I thought.  Until the next night.  This time I used James’ tent.  These outdoor nights were spent in my day clothes.  The place where we had pitched the tent seemed to be incredibly stony.  One particularly sharp stone dug into my left thigh all night.  I was just too tired to attempt to move, and desperately trying to get some shut-eye.  I’ve no doubt I did sleep a bit, as is always the case when you think you haven’t slept at all.  When, early in the morning, I finally decided I’d had enough, I looked for the offending stone.  I couldn’t find it.  Then it dawned on me.  I fished in my left trouser pocket, and pulled out my bunch of keys.

This evening we were joined by Elizabeth’s lifelong friend Nicki and her children Georgie and Josh.  Elizabeth produced spelt spaghetti with a chicken based bolognese sauce, which was followed by coffee roulade, French apple tart, and M & S chocolate coated cornflakes. Three different red wines were drunk, Jackie preferring Hoegaarden, and the young people bottled ales.

Park Culture

Today we continued with yesterday’s gardening projects.  Jackie did a great deal more edging and weeding of beds, planting some flowers we had brought with us, and others from last week.  I managed to get somewhere near halfway with the new bed project.  So much for completing it this weekend.

Elizabeth has been suffering for two and a half weeks with sinusitis.  For anyone who has not experienced it, this is an extremely painful inflammation of the sinuses, or cavities, in the face.  Although I had a nasty bout of it during my first visit to Sigoules this year, keeping me in bed for the whole ten days I was there, it is otherwise something which I have not suffered for many years.  It was, however, a frequent visitor to me during my teens and twenties.  I was therefore pleased to see that my sister was clearly on the mend this evening.  She even went out and weeded the ‘hot bed’.  Since this was a very hot and humid day she had otherwise been on catering duties, especially the provision of drinks.

Each time we were given a drink, and, of course, at lunchtime, I took the opportunity to have a break.  I encountered yet more small trees, almost all suckers from next door’s damson tree.  My method of extracting them was described yesterday.  There was also quite a bit of well-established ivy, with thick tendrils and roots, which had to be removed. Robin's footprints 8.12 Our friendly robin left his muddy footprints all over one of Elizabeth’s freshly painted tables.  When I tired from pulling up small trees and self-rooted strands of honeysuckle, I wandered over to look at the ‘hot bed’ and remind myself that twelve months ago that had been a huge clump of bamboo which had taken three months of weekends to remove.  I would not have been able to achieve that clearance with the tools I am using on what is to be the ‘scented bed’.  I had borrowed a grubber axe from Geoff.  Striking the root clusters with garden forks or spades was about as effective as digging into concrete.  This particular implement made the task possible, although Elizabeth and I dug it over several times, always coming up with roots we had missed last time, before we deemed it ready for composting.

This afternoon Danni joined us.  She spent most of the time in a recliner sunbathing and reading ‘Park Culture’, when she wasn’t being frustrated by being unable to access You tunes.  But she had volunteered to cook for us this evening, and she works very hard at her sports massage practice so is certainly entitled to spend Sunday afternoon relaxing.  ‘Park Culture’ is a most impressive new magazine produced by a couple of friends of Andy’s.  His band, ‘Circle of Reason’ is, incidentally featured.  Until now, there has, apparently been no magazine focussing on artistic events in the New Forest Area.  The September issue of the journal was issued today.  It is the first.  There is coverage of literature, art, music, drama and other forms of artistic expression.  This free publication has the quality of production one would normally be expected to pay for.  There are interviews with artists and performers, illustrated in colour on good quality paper, with useful event information.  The name comes from the fact that the New Forest is a National Park.  Perhaps this is why it has such a rich artistic life.  The website of this enterprise is www.culturapress.co.uk

Danni produced a very tasty beef stir-fry meal.  We finished yesterday’s bottle of Roc Des Chevaliers, Bordeaux 2010.  Jackie had a small French beer then drove me home after one last tour of the garden.