On another very warm afternoon we visited Otter Nurseries in search of a garden bench. The queue inside was most uninviting, so we took a forest drive and revisited the outlet on our way home when the queues had subsided and Jackie ordered what she wanted.
Otter’s car park was lined with the moon daisies that are very prolific at the moment.
Gilpins’s cornus in full bloom towers, as usual, above the garden wall.
Perched on a stand at Portmore a spectator supervises a caprine push-me-pull-you.
Through traffic at Pilley needed to drive round ponies on the road
while avoiding calves on the verges.
Hatchet Pond accommodated water lilies, a moorhen,
Canada geese and their goslings,
and swans with their cygnets,
while a black-headed gull kept an eye on Caring for the Forest.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome beef and mushroom pie; boiled Jersey Royal potatoes; swede and new potato mash; firm carrots, cauliflower, and Brussels sprouts, with which I drank more of the Malbec.
This morning Jackie drove me to the surgery at Milford on Sea where I received my booster Covid vaccination with no problems. We then continued on forest drive.
I stepped out of the car at South Sway Lane, where a fine specimen of buttercups lined the verges opposite the ubiquitous cow parsley,
and carpeted fields with a distant horse enjoying the comfort of fly masks. I
had been initially attracted by the crop of yellow irises.
Two dark bay ponies shared the nearest field. One hopefully trotted over to
investigate me, bringing cloud of flies of a like mind. How this patient creature must have envied the more pampered field horse which was protected from the pesky insects.
On the opposite side of the road moon daisies lined a verge beyond which lay a landscape swathed in varicoloured grasses.
A couple of friendly cyclists sped down the dappled tarmac.
Jackie was struck by the cathedral quality of the oak roof beams spanning Rodlease Lane. She stopped to produce the portrait style photograph, while I made the two landscape versions, one, of course, looking backwards.
A trio of ponies tripped among the daises on the verges of Sway Road.
As we arrived home I noticed what beckons to those who drive past our front entrance.
For dinner this evening we all three enjoyed more servings of those we had yesterday, with more pie filling for Flo and fresh vegetables for us all. Jackie drank Tsing Tao beer and I drank Swartland Shiraz 2020.
Having spent far too long last night grappling with the WordPress theme issue, and, waking up this morning to find my e-mail password rejected although I was still receiving them, I had not the heart to continue my interrupted chat with yesterday’s Happiness Engineer, so I carried on regardless.
Much of the morning was spent on the BT problem. I began by trying to reset my password on line. I won’t go into the glitches that occurred. I don’t receive paper bills any more and of course phone numbers are not given on the website, so I dug out an old invoice to find one. I was informed that there was a 20 minute queue, I therefore settled down to the usual concert of thrilling muzak. Eventually I spoke to a person. In Halifax. In England.
She was very helpful and patient but met exactly the same glitches as I had done. Finally she fed me more musical mush while she disappeared to consult a senior colleague. The advice was that the problem was at their end and would be resolved within 72 hours. Seven hours later I am now not even receiving mails.
Have I mentioned the irritating pop-up which keeps appearing and stops me closing down the computer until I kick it into touch?
Jackie, meanwhile, kept to her gardening where it was comparatively safe. Before lunch I joined her, swept the Brick Path, transported some garden refuse to the compost, and dead-headed swathes of diurnal Welsh poppies.
Later this afternoon, via Undershore,
where the majestic dogwood on the corner of Hundred Lane is at its prime,
we dropped in on Elizabeth and disturbed her washing her car. Keeping a rather generous two metres distance we yelled at each other for a while.
The heat was too much for a young thrush which sank into a neighbours cypress and sat coolly gasping.
Moon daisies line the verges of Pilley Street
where the village sign bears pendant hearts in tribute to carers,
and graffiti on a barrier fence promotes gratitude to the N.H.S.
Back home Jackie undertook more gardening and garnered photographs of pleasing views from beside the greenhouse and along the Brick Path, with a close-up of a pale blue iris.
This evening’s dinner consisted of Jackie’s succulent ratatouille moistening roast gammon; creamy mashed potato; caramelised sweet potato; firm carrots and cauliflower, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Shiraz.
Yesterday’s dinner consisted of Jackie’s superb shepherd’s pie; crisp carrots, cauliflower, and Brussels sprouts with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Rioja.
We will have more of this this evening, including the same beverages. The vegetables may be different. I am just going to prepare whatever the Culinary Queen bought in Tesco this morning, where she was very much in the minority wearing a face mask.
This was not the case with field horses on South Sway Lane when we began a brief foray into the forest. Readers will be aware that the masks are for the animals’ protection against flies.
We had not been here since the beginning of the lockdown when the trees were bare;
buttercups had not arrived, dandelion clocks were young blooms;
and moon daisies
and cow parsley were simply seeds that had not yet germinated.
Horseshoe Bottom was quite crowded with grazing ponies having no need to maintain social distance
and walkers who did.
A group of red deer outside Sway seem to have relaxed their timidity during the months without humans.
This morning Jackie drove me to New Milton for me to catch the London train. This took her eight minutes, but added half an hour to my train journey. It is far preferable than driving to Southampton for her, and no problem for me. In a small patch of garden alongside the station buildings lilac, bluebells, and moon daisies glistened with raindrops. As I photographed the daisies a woman on the platform pointed out the display of daisies I had already shot. She said she had not seen them there before, and wondered whether they had been planted or were self-sown. From Waterloo I took the Jubilee and Metropolitan Lines to Preston Road and walked to Norman’s. Much tilling was being undertaken in the allotments adjacent to the John Billam Sports Ground. One holder had planted a bright array of tulips.
My friend fed us on roast lamb, paprika wedges and vegetables followed by blackberry and apple crumble and custard. We shared a bottle of excellent Crozes-Hermitage.
In narrating the condition of our new home I was prompted to mention Sheila Darzi. Sheila was a member of our Intake Team of social workers in Westminster in the early 1970s. The insanitary conditions of a house to which she made an assessment visit were such that she had to go home to change into a pair of Wellington boots. The Old Post House is not quite that unsavoury, but it comes a close second.
Before I left home this morning I had examined the legs of the reproduction Victorian free-standing bath in our master suite. As far as we can tell, it is quite new, and we would seem to be the only people to have used it. Once each. It is so small that we can only sit cross-legged in it. Not even each at the same time. Yesterday Jackie felt it move. She discovered that none of the legs is fixed to the floor and one of them came off the bath in her hands. My inspection revealed that the other three limbs are at least bolted to the bath.
Perhaps there is some significance in the fact that the lock on the family bathroom door photographed a couple of days ago bears the three-legged symbol of the Isle of Man.
From Preston Road after lunch I took the Metropolitan and Jubilee Underground lines to Westminster, and walked from there to Carol’s. After spending some time with her I returned, via the 507 bus and the train from Waterloo to New Milton where Jackie was waiting to drive me home.
On the train today I began reading Desmond Seward’s history of ‘The Wars of the Roses’. It promises to be very good.
At home, Jackie produced a tangy broccoli and stilton soup with which I drank water and she Hoegaarden. I will attempt to prise a recipe out of her for publication tomorrow.
