Waiting In The Wings

On a chilly, largely overcast morning, occasionally lifted by sunlight peeking over the sometimes fluffy cotton clouds, I wandered around with my camera enjoying the general views opened up by Martin’s dedicated winter’s work.

It was difficult to ignore the red Japanese maple,

even when the collection of trees featured both the doomed Weeping birch tree and its foreground gingko waiting in the wings.

The second image in the first gallery features the Brick Path.

Here is another, followed by

one of the Gazebo Path, from the far end of which

can be seen this view west.

Whichever way we look we benefit from Martin’s work.

These are from the Rose Garden.

This morning Jackie shopped at Ferndene Farm Shop where she enjoyed the Gloucester Old Spot piglets at their trough.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s spicy penne Bolognese with Parmesan cheese with which she and I drank more of the Tempranillo Rosado.

Social Media 1959

These are Jackie’s photographs of the piglets following their mother into the woodland yesterday.

A discussion with Flo and Dillon on benefits of hand made crafts and the difficulty of marketing them was broadened to incorporate many other aspects of life spanning our times.

This led Jackie to produce her autograph book from 1959.

This was a vehicle for friends and family to leave messages such as these, which in this form have survived for posterity without the aid of cyberspace.

Now, who, I ask you, were the Dale Sisters? Neither Jackie nor her parents knew when she attended an event in which they were present. After 64 years, by means of Google, Jackie was able to enlighten us all.

The Dale Sisters were an English vocal trio, who had limited chart success in the early 1960s. They are best remembered for their recordings of “Heartbeat[1] and “My Sunday Baby (un Telegrama)”, both of which became minor hits in the UK Singles Chart.[2] Other songs they sang included “Billy Boy, Billy Boy“, “Road to Love”[3] and “All My Life”.[4] Their work, when they were billed by their alternative name of The England Sisters, was arranged by John Barry.

They were born in Goole, Yorkshire, as Betty, Hazel and Julie Dunderdale, a name they later shortened to become the Dale Sisters.[6] In July 1959, they won a talent contest which was organised by The People, at ButlinsFiley. Later that year they made their first London appearance at the Lyceum Theatre.[7] They were on the bill with Helen Shapiro and The Brook Brothers at the Odeon Theatre, Halifax on 7 April 1962, as part of a national tour.[8] In January 1963, they played the Two Red Shoes Ballroom, ElginScotland, just a week after The Beatlesappeared there.[9] Their UK television show appearances included Thank Your Lucky Stars with Adam FaithJohn LeytonThe Brooks BrothersGeoff Goddard and Dion in 1961.[10]

The Dale Sisters tracks “My Sunday Baby (un Telegrama)” and “All My Life” appeared on the compilation albumSay When – Ember Sixties Pop Vol. 1 1960-1961.[11][12] (Wikipedia)

When The Beatles preceded the sisters’ performance in 1963 they were in the process of changing popular music forever.

This evening we all dined on racks of ribs with Jackie’s savoury rice with which she drank more of the Blush and I drank more of the Bordeaux.


There was no further rain here today, which remained warm and humid enough to induce drowsiness in

ponies and foals along Holmsley Road as we began our forest drive this morning. The miniature Highland cow wandering along the verge held us up a little as

she decided to cross the road, taking her past Jackie’s open window.

The trunk of a large tree had clearly, until sawn and cleared, spanned Wittensford Lane, the luxuriant hedgerows of which bore

an abundance of eglantine roses, elegant fingers of foxgloves, and hands of honeysuckle.

Half grown piglets pausing, paddling, to partake of muddy gazpacho soup somewhat replenished by yesterday’s rain,

dashed along the verges of Kewlake Lane.

Even one recently shorn sheep along Furzley Lane suffered the panting somnolence exhibited by the ponies earlier.

This evening we dined on racks of pork spare ribs in Maple barbecue sauce on a bed of Jackie’s colourful vegetable rice topped with a thick omelette, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Tesco finest Mendoza Malbec 2020.

Pigs Can Fly

This morning was again sunless, but this time rainless, as Jackie and I once more filled our Modus with soggy garden refuse which we unloaded at Efford Recycling Centre (otherwise known as the dump) and continued on a forest drive.

We turned left off Camden Lane into

another, which soon ran alongside private woodland. Clearly we were lucky to have progressed along this route, for a large tree had recently fallen across it.

Some pig farmers, responding to the early fall of acorns, had already loosed their animals in order, snuffling and snorting, to root them up.

Seven gleeful piglets dashed across the green, snouts to the ground.

The Gloucester Old Spot intent on dogging my heels must have been their mother.

I am not sure what she did to one youngster when their nose-rings clashed on one apparently tasty morsel, but the youngster leapt with a squeal in the air and swiftly trotted to a safe distance.

Its face made clear its shocked innocence.

Further on a Saddleback sow scavenged for mast.

Nearby it seemed clear that pigs could fly – up a tree at least.

The lane narrowed as we left the farm section and tracked the woodland. Suddenly I exclaimed “There is something red in there. I don’t know what it is but it might have legs”. We had by now passed it. My long-suffering Chauffeuse reversed with some difficulty until we reached the small gap in the hedge.

The “something red” had moved behind branches but it did have legs. Was it a young red deer? It unexpectedly displayed the curiosity of

these two usually inquisitive sheep.

This afternoon I posted https://derrickjknight.com/2022/09/15/a-knights-tale-116-1-cumbrian-interludes/

This evening we dined on well cooked roast lamb, roast potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli, followed by moist bread and butter pudding. Jackie drank more of the Sauvignon Blanc, I finished the Burgundy, and Dillon and Flo drank fruit cordial.

Today’s Hobbyhorses

Our extended Indian summer continues.

Early this morning the three of us spent some time in the garden where I photographed

a number of blooms, the names of which are all included in the galleries. The blue Morning Glories only flowered for the first time last week. Bees are still plundering the cosmoses.

After this we shopped at Ferndene Farm Shop, and continued on a forest drive.

Pigs and their piglets scurried across the road at Pilley. Louise, who lives in the house on the corner seen beyond the scene including porkers, a Shetland pony and a walker, stood for while at the gate flagging down motorists to point out the piglets they could not see as they approached the cattle grid. Jessie joined me in photographing the animals. Its bright berries enliven a cotoneaster tree on the green.

The beach at the end of Tanners Lane was gathering visitors like the two above; teasels grew in the field at the top of the slope.

This evening Jackie drove us to Mudeford to catch the


Swans were unperturbed by gulls taking flight.

I watched approaching its runway.

Two children sped along the shore on bikes with no pedals (Dandy horse bikes)- today’s hobbyhorses.

This evening we dined on tender roast lamb; crisp Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, sage and onion stuffing; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; tender runner beans, and meaty gravy, followed by coffee cake and New Forest ice cream, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden, I drank more of the Fleurie, and Jessie drank water.

Three Little Pigs

On this oppressively warm and overcast afternoon we took a brief drive into the forest.

Unobliging cattle grazing on Bull Hill took off across the road when I disembarked from the Modus to photograph them.

Jackie provided me with today’s title when she said that it was a shame that a fourth piglet joined the smallest trio we have ever seen loose during the pannage season. I therefore excluded the interloper. I trust the road markings will give an adequate indication of scale.

The recent ice cream and other summer symbols decorating crocheted letter collection box on Pilley Hill now sports current seasonal delights.

5 days ago we had to turn back when the trunk and limbs of this blighted oak blocked Undershore.

This evening Elizabeth came to dinner and helped us finish Angela’s authentic Chinese chicken and prawn curry with egg rice, spring rolls, prawn toasts, and wontons, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and my sister and I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.

A Dog Cart

Late this morning I published https://derrickjknight.com/2021/10/06/a-knights-tale-46-ok-how-did-you-do-it/

We then drove to Steamer Point and

brunched at the Beach Hut Café at Friars Cliff. This has been our first visit since before Covid. I needed no further sustenance this evening.

Many customers dined alfresco. We were the only couple inside, because

we couldn’t find a place to ourselves.

One gentleman made short work of his ice cream.

Some visitors kayaked or swam in the albeit brisk water, turbulent waves of which

tossed spray against breakwater rocks.

A lone fisherman stood optimistically watching his line.

Small groups thronged the promenade.

Dog walkers wandered along the shingle. There is a surprise at the end of this gentleman’s lead.

An ingenious dog cart. Enlargement may help to view it.

Passing a gentleman painting his beach hut,

we bade farewell to the beach, and turned into the forest.

Ponies cropped the verges of Warnes Lane just outside Burley.

Others were to be seen alongside Forest Road,

and, further on, we listened to the squeaking of satisfied pink piglets,

and the scampering snorts of small saddlebacks in search of mast.

Rooting And Wallowing

This morning while Jackie shopped at Tesco I carried out a bunch of dead heading.

After lunch I wandered around the garden with my camera

and photographed a range of blooms, each of which is titled in the gallery;

a bee on a cosmos and a comma butterfly on verbena bonariensis.

Later this afternoon we drove into the forest and discovered from the presence of pigs trotting across Jordans Lane that pannage has begun. This is the period when pigs are freed to eat up the mast – acorns and other autumn fruits which are poisonous to ponies.

This gathering of pigs and piglets was more interested in rooting and wallowing on the still-muddy-enough-for-fun drying Pilley lake bed.

There had not been a scarecrow trail in Hordle this year, but it looks as if someone in Sheldrake Gardens had made their own individual effort in the form of this

pair representing the Gruffalo and mouse.

This evening we dined on oven fish and chips and peas, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Fleurie.

Lucky For Pigs

On a gloomier and warmer afternoon than yesterday we took a drive into the forest.

The pannage season has this year been extended into December.

A group of snuffling, snorting, competitive, piglets on the muddy verge at Ibsley burrowed as far into the leafy coverlet as they could to emerge with acorns from the tree above. The little fellow in the road in the last picture was making his way to plant a round snotty kiss on my trousers.

Further along, at North Gorley, much of the green was now under water which reflected the trees, one of which had now lost all its leaves; ponies grazed beside a Winterbourne stream.

The recently filled ditches of South Gorley did not deter a pair of Gloucester Old Spot sows from unearthing acorns. Sloshing and grunting they nose-dived, grabbed their mast, and rose to the surface dripping, grinning, and crunching. The year 2020 has been lucky for pigs.

Half way down Pentons Hill at Stockton, a thatcher’s straw ducks waddled across a roof he had produced.

This evening Jackie reprised yesterday’s delicious roast chicken dinner with her savoury vegetable rice and green beans. She drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Merlot.

The Tenacious Rose

The Golden Cockerel Press was an English fine press operating between 1920 and 1961. Its history and further information can be found in https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Cockerel_Press.

Tapster’s Tapestry is a little gem of satirical phantasy published in 1938 which I finished reading last night. These two illustrations are of the title page and the jacket, repeating one of the full page illustrations and made of stiff cartridge paper, still intact after 82 years.

Gwenda Morgan’s illustrations are good examples of her period.

As we left the house for a forest drive this afternoon we admired the tenacity of this strongly scented climbing rose clinging to life suspended by a stem broken by the recent storm Alex.

Today was unseasonably warm with sunshine and showers subject to fast moving clouds photographed at various autumnal locations including

Bennets Lane;

Anna Lane;

and Forest Road

with its now replenished reflective pools.

Ponies enhanced the landscape on the road to Burley

where curly tailed piglets buried their snuffling, snorting, snouts in their frantic competitive foraging for acorns.

I am delighted to report that there was plenty of Jackie’s chicken and leek pie for another sitting served with crisp roast potatoes; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; tender cabbage, and meaty gravy. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Montpeyroux Recital 2018.