Just after lunch we drove to Ringwood to shop, then delivered a present for John and Stephanie to Helen and Bill’s at Poulner.
The earring no longer adorns the information board in the car park. I do hope it is now happily reunited with its partner and dangling from one of a pair of beautiful lobes.
After unloading the shopping, we sped across the other side of the forest to Milford on Sea, there to investigate Agarton Lane, on the outskirts, where there is a house for sale.
The cottage is down a very narrow lane with fields all around, across one of which, virtually next door, trooped what, from a distance, looked like a group of grouse. The other neighbour seemed to be Woodlands which was staked out, it seemed, for building one house in the centre of a very large plot.
Although the garden of the subject cottage appears free of them, the whole area is infested with mare’s tails. A stream runs across the road adjacent to the building.
Having given ourselves food for thought we continued to the coastline at Milford, finding that we had approached Hurst Pond Nature Reserve from the other side to the one we had investigated on 3rd July. I became quite excited when I saw a heron stalking fish in the water, really quite close by. Jackie stopped the car. I got out. She revved up the engine to move on to a parking spot. My prey flew off in search of a safer spot to seek his. Noticing his landing point, I decided to stalk him. He chose to camouflage himself by imitating reed stalks. It’s a good thing this wasn’t a stork, otherwise my wordplay may have got a little out of hand.
Jackie has never cooked risotto before, but she decided to give it a try this evening. Her mushroom version was superb. She will definitely do it again. After all, it is different from biriani simply in the type of rice used in order to provide the glutinous effect which is required. I don’t think there is a great deal of difference in the method, or, for that matter, in the Persian inspired pilau, at which she is most proficient. Jackie’s choice of ice cream to follow was strawberry. Mine was rum and raisin.
Given that we were eating risotto, I sought out a wine from our IKEA wine rack that sits in the bathroom cupboard, that I thought would do it justice. I had the exquisite taste to hit upon a superb Sicilian offering from Fiorile, a Nero d’Avola Syrah of 2010. In truth, I had never heard of it, but it had been given to me by the Head of Geography at Chichester Cathedral’s Prebendal School. This is Ian Steele who we are welcoming into our family. Ian had been given this present by a satisfied parent at the end of the last school year. Knowing I was more likely to appreciate it, he had given it a good home. What better pedigree, I thought, for a wine, than that it has been purchased by such a donor. So I very much enjoyed it this evening. Thank you, Ian, and the anonymous giver.
This bottle provided the inspiration for today’s title, for which I am indebted to E.R.Braithwaite’s semi-autobigraphical novel dealing with social and racial issues in an inner city school. There have been several dramatisations of this ever-topical tale, the most famous possibly being the 1967 film starring Sidney Poitier, the title song of which propelled Lulu to No. 1 in the US charts. Lulu, incidentally smiles across at Sam from the opposite wall of the Akash in Edgware Road.
Poon after I have pent this sopt, I will have brunk the hole dottle. (The computer’s spellcheck wnet breseckr at this)