A Menacing Hoodie

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This morning I made a birthday card for Orlaith, using this photograph taken by Holly a few days after her daughter’s birth.

Holmsley Passage 1

Jackie drove me to New Milton to post it this afternoon, and on afterwards for a forest trip via Holmsley Passage.

Pony in landscape

Beside the passage this pony

Pony stamping bracken 1

caught my attention

Pony stamping bracken 2

as it appeared

Pony stamping bracken 3

to be scratching

Pony stamping bracken 4

the bracken. Actually it was stamping it down so it could get at the grass. Too much bracken is harmful to horses.

Birch trees

Birch trees

Landscape with trees 1

stood out on the moorland,

Holly berries

and holly berries brightened the woodland opposite.

Holmsley Passage 2

As we continued along the road,

Mobile phone mast disguised as a tree 1

we noticed a strange tree in the distance.

Mobile phone mast disguised as a tree 2

This was the Burley mobile telephone mast in disguise.

Milestone

At the end of the Passage, according to this milestone just one mile from Burley,

Pool in landscape 1Pool in landscape 2

we turned off right along a cul -de-sac on which we discovered a pool

Reflections in pool 2Reflections in pool 1Reflections in pool 3Tree and reflection

reflecting

Trees and leaves on groundShadows on autumn leaves 1

the surrounding trees.

Fungi

Fungi sprang from fallen logs;

Branch against pool

a dead branch dangled.

Poolside possible Drift site

An enclosure beyond the far side looked rather like a Drift pen.

Trees and bracken 2Trees and bracken 1

The road led to the enticing woodland

Landscape Clay Hill

and undulating landscape of Clay Hill.

Woodsmoke over Bashley

The mist rising above Bashley on our return had a distinct aroma of woodsmoke.

Cloudscape

We diverted to Keyhaven where the clouds looming overhead

Clouds reflected in pool

were reflected in the waterlogged tarmac,

Figure on Hurst Spit

and a menacing hoodie lurked on Hurst Spit.

This evening we dined at Mansoori Heights, a recently opened Indian restaurant in Milford on Sea. It was very good. Jackie’s main meal was paneer shashlick; mine was prawn vindaloo; we shared a starter platter, egg rice, and a methi paratha, and both drank Kingfisher.

 

 

 

Council Housing

Along the footpath to the mosque this morning a heap of building waste demonstrated that the flytipping (2nd. July) warnings have been ignored.  When I returned from my walk, it was still there, and a man was standing at the entrance holding up a board which announced that the Eid (15th. August) carpark was full.  There was a queue of hopeful drivers in their cars stretching out into Hillcross Avenue.  At the head was a vehicle full of Muslim women.  I moved some of the rubble, hoping it wasn’t asbestos, so the driver could park there.  A young Muslim man who had just parked alongside it declined to help.  After that the other, male, drivers were on their own.  Chivalry extends only so far.

Blackberries 8.12

Blackberries were ripening, to the delight of foragers.  Bindweed was rampant.  This menace was the curse of our tiny garden in Stanton Road.  I spent many hours as a child chipping away at the sun-hardened soil with a small garden fork, endeavouring to remove the last vestiges of trailing white roots.  The Forth bridge wasn’t in it.

Turning right onto London Road, I passed an old milestone.  This is a relic of the days of horse-drawn coaches.  I walked up to the crossroads and turned left, rounding into Green Lane which runs parallel to it.  This wide thoroughfare, with a tree-lined path running down the centre of it, begins in the Upper Morden Conservation Area.  It is part of the 1950s St. Helier Estate.  This vast post-war housing project contains beautifully built and spaciously laid out properties.  I think this was the last period of well-made council housing.  Like many other local authority homes, some are now privately owned.  It was Margaret Thatcher’s ‘Right to Buy’ policies that made this possible.  Undoubtedly this did enable a great number of people who would be unable to do so to become owner-occupiers.  It also reduced the amount of housing stock to accommodate those who could not afford to buy.  I have mentioned before (28th. June) that I worked in Westminster during the Shirley Porter era.  Looking out of my office window, or those of Beauchamp Lodge Settlement,  I wondered at the fact that Council owned residential flats were being tarted up and otherwise embellished, for example, with sloping roofs.  Some of these, no more than ugly boxes built in the ’60s, could certainly have done with it.  Other Council Housing Department properties were being boarded up.  Since there were numerous homeless families in the City of Westminster, this was another mystery.  What I had not been aware of was the scandalous gerrymandering that was going on.  My naive nature had imagined that money was being spent on improving the environment of Council tenants.  It was nothing of the kind.  Their homes were being prepared for sale to potential Tory voters.  Fortunately the worst of this abuse was not implemented until after I had, in 1986, left the Authority’s employment.  I would not have been able to stomach the enforced transportation of Westminster’s homeless families to hotel accommodation in other parts of London, to which the borough’s hapless people were being decanted.

Coming to the end of Green Lane, at the Rose Hill roundabout I turned right, eventually reaching Sutton Common Road, where I took another right turn which brought me to Epsom Road.  Right again and I was soon able to enter Morden Park and make for home.  Along the road from Rose Hill I came across another roadside memorial (see 12th. August) fixed to the common railings.

In Morden Park I discovered a fully equipped Cricket ground in a bucolic setting which I had not noticed before.  There is more to this open space than I had imagined; and much to be discovered on one’s own doorstep.

Later, Jackie and I drove to The Firs.  We had curries and beer at Eastern Nights.