Although still cold, today was brighter and sunnier, casting long shadows early this afternoon, so we took a short forest drive after lunch.
Tempting me out of the car, a trio of ponies grazed or snoozed on the moorland outside Sway.
I then tramped over the shadow-streaked woodland floor featuring meandering fingers of mossy roots carpeted with golden, glinting, leaves on the approach to Bisterne Close.
This area has its share of decaying trees gradually returning to the soil;
and of scooped out bowls of winterbourne pools reflecting now skeletal trees on their surface on which float fallen leaves slowly descending like rocking canoes onto their clear beds.
Although the anonymous knitter of Pilley Street appears to have stopped decorating her letter box with the death of Queen Elizabeth, the group in Tiptoe Road are continuing their work.
This Christmas offering was rather windswept when I photographed it on our way home.
This evening we dined on tender roast lamb; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes, some softer ones being sweet; crunchy carrots; firm broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and cauliflower, and meaty gravy with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden, I drank more of the Gran Selone, and Flo and Dillon drank fruit juice cordial.
This morning I watched the Women’s rugby World Cup final between England and New Zealand.
This afternoon we took a forest drive on which I focussed on some poppy displays.
This one is at Everton;
this one at Boldre Memorial Hall at Pilley;
and this one against the wall of the Parish Church of St John the Baptist at Church Lane, Boldre,
where can be found several gravestones bearing
inset Death Pennies. My speculation is that the parents of the two young men featured kept these tribute plaques in a treasured place until they followed them in death and joined them in their burial plots.
‘The Memorial Plaque [so named] was issued after the First World War to the next-of-kin of all British Empire service personnel who were killed as a result of the war.
The plaques (which could be described as large plaquettes) about 4.72 inches (120 mm) in diameter, were cast in bronze, and came to be known as the “Dead Man’s Penny”, because of the similarity in appearance to the much smaller penny coin which itself had a diameter of only 1.215 inches (30.9 mm). 1,355,000 plaques were issued, which used a total of 450 tons of bronze,[1] and continued to be issued into the 1930s to commemorate people who died as a consequence of the war.[2]‘ (Wikipedia).
‘It was decided that the design of the plaque, was to be chosen from submissions made in a public competition. Over 800 designs were submitted [1] and the competition was won by the sculptor and medallistEdward Carter Preston using the pseudonym Pyramus, receiving two first place prizes of £250 for his winning and also an alternative design. The name Pyramus comes from the story of Pyramus and Thisbē which is part of Ovid‘s Metamorphoses, a Roman tragedynarrative poem.[3]
Carter Preston’s winning design includes an image of Britannia holding a trident and standing with a lion. The designer’s initials, E.CR.P., appear above the front paw. In her outstretched left hand Britannia holds an olive wreath above the ansate tablet bearing the deceased’s name cast in raised letters. Below the name tablet, to the right of the lion, is an oak spray with acorns. The name does not include the rank since there was to be no distinction between sacrifices made by different individuals.[1] Two dolphins swim around Britannia, symbolizing Britain’s sea power, and at the bottom a second lion is tearing apart the German eagle. The reverse is blank, making it a plaquette rather than a table medal. Around the picture the legend reads (in capitals) “He died for freedom and honour”, or for the approximately 600 plaques issued to commemorate women, “She died for freedom and honour”.[1]
They were initially made at the Memorial Plaque Factory, 54/56 Church Road, Acton, W3, London[2] from 1919. Early Acton-made plaques did not have a number stamped on them but later ones have a number stamped behind the lion’s back leg.[2][4]
In December 1920 manufacture was shifted to the Royal Arsenal, Woolwich. Plaques manufactured here can be identified by a circle containing the initials “WA” on the back[1] (the “A” being formed by a bar between the two upward strokes of the “W”[5]) and by a number stamped between the tail and leg (in place of the number stamped behind the lion’s back leg).[2][4]
The design was altered slightly during manufacture at Woolwich by Carter Preston since there was insufficient space in the original design between the lion’s back paw and the H in “HE” to allow an “S” to be inserted to read “SHE” for the female plaques. The modification was to make the H slightly narrower to allow the S to be inserted. After around 1500 female plaques had been manufactured the moulds were modified to produce the male version by removing the S.[2]
The plaques were issued in a pack with a commemorative scroll from King George V.[6] Sometimes the letter and scroll were sent first.’ (Wikipedia).
Had these people from earlier generations not made the ultimate sacrifice it is possible that
neither I nor the friendly young couple I photographed conversing with an alpaca in Rodlease Lane would have existed to remember them,
as do the parishioners of Pennington Parish Church.
The knitters of the postbox on Wootton Road have made their own visual tribute.
Late this afternoon Becky returned to her home in Southbourne.
We dined with Flo on second helpings of last night’s Red Chilli takeaway with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon.
WordPress has tested my good nature to the limit today. I have struggled to like other posts or my followers comments; I have failed intermittently to comment on others’ posts; I have been unable until now (mid-afternoon) even to begin a new post.
We began the day with a trip to the pharmacy at Milford on Sea for our flu vaccinations – at least these weren’t problematic – and continued to Ferndene Farm shop for provisions, and on to the forest.
Along Wilverley Road the landscape still looked rather parched,
apart from the banks of trees ahead;
the burnished bracken on the moors flanking Holmsley Passage remained many shades of green and gold.
Jackie speculated that the tree trimming on the road outside Burley was to ensure that visitors on our open-topped tourist routes would not be clouted on this section of their journey.
The post box decoration on Tiptoe Road raised a smile from me when I noticed the spider crawling over the seasonal pumpkin.
After two hours during which I had only reached the second picture above, I gave up and made one more attempt before dinner, and polished off the rest like a dream.
The said dinner consisted of Jackie’s delicious lamb and apricot cobbler: the filling was tender, and the cheese and thyme scone topping, firm; the vegetables were boiled potatoes, firm broccoli and cauliflower, and crunchy carrots. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden, I drank Château La Mauberte Bordeaux 2020, and the young parents ate later.
The last two lines, omitted by WP yesterday, were added with much difficulty on 4th.
