Provoking A Squabble

Overnight winds had been powerful enough to blow this planted up stone urn off its pedestal.

Early this morning Jackie drove me to our G.P. surgery at Milford on Sea to order a repeat prescription.

We were not surprised to learn on BBC News that, at 79 m.p.h., the strongest gusts in Britain had rushed through The Needles which still seemed borne on a bed of spray as we passed them. Our home is in a direct line from these rocks, and always shares their buffeting.

The foaming waves of the Solent rolled rapidly towards our coastline, flinging ragged curtains of ocean droplets skyward. A motorboat speeding across the surface, despite its rapid rate, seemed to be bobbing up and down as it appeared to be engulfed.

Gulls reflected in pools in the car parks.

Masts at the Yacht Club stood against the sky at Keyhaven, where a group of walkers of the third age passed a younger woman with a dog.

We continued along the coast road towards Hurst Spit on and around which walkers strode beneath a fretwork of cotton clouds and streaking jet trails.

As we approached the bridge over the stream we became aware of a frenzied, shrieking, squabble of seagulls. What, we wondered, had provoked this activity?

A gentleman carefully placing muzzles on his pair of Dalmatians had spotted the answer.

He wasn’t prepared to risk a conflict between his dogs and the swans being fed from the bridge.

A string of Brent geese had found their own food in a field opposite.

Outside Solent Grange a store of stone sculptures awaited installation on the so pretentious walls.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s comforting cottage pie; crunchy carrots of virus hues; tender runner beans and cabbage.

Now You See It, Now You Don’t

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Today was warmer and just one uniform shade of grey. This morning we travelled by car to New Milton where I visited the dry cleaners, the post office, and the bank. I collected cleaning, mailed a parcel and some letters, and paid a bill. All rather mundane really.

Jackie drove us on to Mudeford Quay where I went for a wander.

Bench and gulls

On the sheltered side of the quay, not even the gulls occupied the benches.

Crow in flight

A crow took off on my approach.

Boats and Haven House Inn

I imagine most people were patronising the Haven House Inn, beyond the Sailing Club masts

Gull

on the top of one of which perched a gull,

the solitary audience of the jingle jangling rigging orchestral performance.

Most such scavengers harassed those drivers and their passengers taking a break in the car park.

I wonder if anyone has any ideas about what the woman on the spit was seeking. Stones? Shells?

Waves and beach huts

She, of course ventured on the rougher, seaward, side of the harbour, where the waves roared, and no-one emerged from the beach huts.

Waves and buoy 1

A bright orange buoy bobbed on the surface.

Now you see it, now you don’t.

This evening we dined on lemon chicken with perfect carrots, cauliflower, greens, and boiled potatoes, followed by profiteroles. I drank Château Plessis grand vin de Bordeaux 2014.

Lymington Yacht Haven

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When I walked around the Keyhaven – Lymington Nature Reserve recently I finished up at the boat yard I now know is the Lymington Yacht Haven. Today I chose to begin at the Haven and wander around it.

Pinckney Path and walkers

Jackie therefore drove me to Pinckney Path from which I had returned to Normandy Lane.

Pinckney Path sign

The woman walking towards me pointed to this sign giving the history of the route

Yachts through trees

through to the boats.

Boat props and walker

A walker, presumably having emerged from the bird sanctuary, passed me as I stooped to photograph supports of a boat.

Walkers and ferry boat

Other ramblers could be seen on the far side of the reserve, with the ferry boat making for the Isle of Wight beyond.

I suppose this was really a dry dock area, with boats being supported by wooden struts and other devices,

Container drums

such as these container drums.

A variety of hulls were prepared for work.

Reflection on car window

Reflections were seen on car windows

Reflections on hull

and on the hulls of the cleaner boats.

Man climbing from hull

There was little work being undertaken, but this gentleman climbed down from ‘Plymouth’.

Walking through the boat yard led to the marina where boats and their reflections shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight.

This evening we dined on further helpings of the roast duck and savoury rice, supplemented by spring rolls. I drank more of the cabernet sauvignon.