knitting – derrickjknight

Sharing The Duchess Of Cornwall’s Bench

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According to Wikipedia: ‘The WI [Women’s Institute] movement began at Stoney Creek, Ontario in Canada in 1897 when Adelaide Hoodless addressed a meeting for the wives of members of the Farmers’ Institute.’

‘Born in 1915 out of the ashes of the First World War, the WI was initially sponsored by the government with a mission to help boost food supplies and energise rural areas. But the gatherings proved so popular, it soon took on a life of its own and its members set about righting wrongs, mounting surprising and enlightened campaigns, many of which were light years ahead of their time.’ This is an extract from Emma Barnett’s excellent 24th May 2015 article in the Daily Telegraph.

This year Milford on Sea is celebrating its own centenary in a witty exhibition of art and craft. We visited it this morning.

Most stationery objects around the village green have been adorned with the results of loving labour involving lanate thread and knitting needles. (See the contentedcrafter comment below – also crochet hooks)

Benches and bollards are bestrewn;

bunting bedecks trees and railings.

There are two lighthouses, one bearing a bird.

A gull, reflected in The Village Coffee Pot window, perches atop the pillar box.

Other birds, woodland creatures, insects, a lizard, flowers, vegetables, an octopus, starfish and seashells, cling in abundance to the bollards.

Noddy, Rupert Bear, an elf, a guardsman, a little boy, and an elderly couple occupy the benches.

Just when I thought I had covered everything, a woman asked me if I’d seen the spiders in the tree by the car park. I hadn’t, so I wandered down to put that right. There was also a blue tit in residence.

I engaged in conversation with a gentleman resting his backpack on a bench while he studied his Ordnance Survey map. He was from Leicester and, as part of his aim to walk around the coast of England, was undertaking the stretch from here to Mudeford today. The Duchess of Cornwall seemed quite happy to allow him to share her bench.

Paul and Margery came for a visit this afternoon. We enjoyed our conversation as usual.

This evening we dined on roast belly of pork, Yorkshire pudding, crinkly kale, crunchy carrots and new potatoes. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Médoc.

The Interknit.

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We didn’t much feel like taking the Christmas decorations down last night, so left it at unplugging the lights. When you consider that the Head Decorator is also the Head Gardener, you will realise how daunting is this task.

Imagine our delight then, on coming down this morning, to find that leprechauns had been in and completed the job. Leprechauns in the forms of Becky and Ian, of course.

The pastel pink winter flowering cherry in the front garden now blends with the brightly coloured crab apples, which have not yet been finished off by the blackbirds, thrushes, and tits that still feast on them.

Becky has, in recent weeks, taught herself to knit on line – using what Matthew has termed the Interknit. She has, without the aid of patterns, produced a set of sample shoes for Poppy,

who took great delight on trying them on soon after she arrived with Mat this morning.

Poppy enjoys playing with the mice which have periodically featured on posts. She makes a beeline for them when she arrives. She is also fascinated by the chimes of the grandfather clock and the other striker in the kitchen.

It therefore seemed appropriate for four of the mice to run up the clock.

Matthew and Poppy had to leave soon after 4 p.m., so were unable to share the classic roast pork meal that Jackie served up, thus demonstrating a remarkable improvement in her health. She and Becky finished the Barcelino, and I began a very special médoc, Baron des Tours, given to me by Helen and Bill for Christmas.

Hordle Village Fair

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Those who had worked so hard to create today’s Hordle Village Fair woke up to a forecast of rain from 3.00 p.m.. The event was to begin at 1.00 p.m.. In fact, although we were beset by heavy clouds, rain held off until soon after four. Jackie and I paid a visit.

A yellow clown, reminiscent of Barrie Haynes’s pink bunny persona for Bournemouth Lions fundraising events, entertained children and adults alike. I’m sure Barrie could identify the classic car standing on the left, and the others lined up in the background. The round balls seen atop one of them light up when the occasion arises. It is a Belgian hearse belonging to the creator of the Pied Piper of Hamelin scarecrow.

People of all ages toured the wide open spaces and visited the well spread out stalls around them.

There were quite a number of dogs towing their owners.

Plant sales aroused plentiful interest.

A couple of woman span happily in their tent;

other handicraft included knitted hand puppets,

flannels,

and various textile items examined by these young ladies.

A long colourful caterpillar was a children’s maze;

and there was a rubber slide.

Boys

and girls had stereotypically different approaches to the downward trip.

Although the scarecrows were mostly still displayed outside their homes, one Rapunzel had found her way to the recreation ground.

One very popular tent was that of the Liberty Owl, Raptor & Reptile Centre. Jackie and I

just had to investigate the occupants like these hawks

and the White Headed Vulture.

As soon as an announcement was made that there would be a handling display of these raptors, a crowd gathered around the showing enclosure,

and were entertained by a most eloquent and informative handler in complete control of his birds. Even the clown was rapt.

A photographer on the other side of the enclosure, like me, waited for the hawk to take off.

The bird man did his best to convince us that the White Headed Vulture was not as ugly as she was painted.

Music was provided by the Clayesmore Pipe Band of Christchurch.

Army cadets provided an information tent and were responsible for gathering up stray monkeys.

This evening we dined on pork and jalapeno sausages and colourful carrots from the monthly farmers’ market in Everton Nurseries, pork belly from Tesco, new potatoes and cabbage from I don’t know where, with very tasty gravy by the Culinary Queen. I drank El arte de vivin Ribera del Duero 2015.

Shoebox

I began the day with a brief amble down the lane.

In the bed beyond the kitchen window, the frilly pink poppies have multiplied.

On our back drive, a pennant of white ramblers is now strung from stump to stump down the avenue of dead trees along the Northern side.

Hallmark Builders have finished their work on the entrance to The Spinney, revealing that the purpose of the wall is to contain a letterbox.

While Jackie continued in the garden, Sheila knitted duck puppets.

The Shoebox Appeal, originating in 1992, operates a system of donating gifts, often hand-crafted to needy people in Eastern Europe and in Africa. Sheila contributes with her knitting. When our friend was struggling to thread her wool through the eye of a sewing needle, I was rash enough to mention that I had, as a child, habitually performed this task for my grandmother, I got the job of doing it for Sheila. It took me some time.

If we harvested all the potatoes that emerge among the flower beds, no doubt germinated from composted peelings, we would put the greengrocers out of business. Those that haven’t already succumbed to the supermarkets, that is. Jackie brought in one of the plants, to give our guest a preview of what she was having for dinner.

This very warm afternoon Jackie took us for a drive along the coast road. From Milford on Sea, where we did a little shopping, We proceeded to Keyhaven, continued along the inviting-looking salt marshes, from which a bridge crosses to Hurst Spit, along the top of which a young woman, her fair hair blowing in the wind, strode purposefully. Visible through the railings of the firm wooden bridge, a mother and child sheltered, with their dog on the sun-warmed shingle. It is to be hoped that enough of the rapidly melting ice-cream found its way into the little boy’s mouth before it welded the tissue wrapped around it to the cone.

At Barton on Sea I walked round the side of Sails Coffee Shop and looked out over the air-space that had once carried the ends of gardens in the terrace of which it forms part. Close by is the Beachcomber cafe where Sheila drank a cappuccino and Jackie a diet Coke. Jackie’s excuse for indulging in a slice of rainbow cake was that ‘it had to be seen to be believed’.

She couldn’t eat it all, so, out of the goodness of my heart, I forced down a couple of colours.

Before that, a young woman offered one of the marauding starlings a slice of cucumber. Had she asked, I could have offered the opinion that, judging by the squirming creatures our parent starlings had carried to the chicks in our roofs, these birds are carnivores. Whether or not that is true this one eschewed the cucumber. Like the ‘Five Little Men in a Flying Saucer’, on a visit to Earth, it took a little look at it, ‘didn’t like the sight of it, and quickly flew away’.

This evening we dined on flavoursome smoked cod, Jackie’s piquant cauliflower cheese, mashed potato, and crisp carrots and green beans, followed by lemon cheesecake from the Co-op. I finished the merlot, Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and Sheila quaffed lemonade.