pushchair – derrickjknight

The White Doves Of St James’s

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Before we set off for Emsworth yesterday afternoon, we watered every plant container in the garden. This took some time. Just as we passed Brockenhurst on the way to Becky’s birthday celebration, I realised I had left my wallet at home. Returning home for it added 45 minutes to our journey.

Assembled at the North Road flat were Matthew;

Tess, seen here with Jackie;

Becky’s friend, Naomi

and her son, Louis;

Ian;

Becky, seen here expressing surprised pleasure at our present of a Jutta Manser wood engraving;

and, of course, Poppy, here taking one of Flo’s teddies for a walk in her grown-up cousin’s toy pushchair;

trying on a Princess crown she had made herself,

changing into a suitable outfit to match that of another teddy;

rolling around the floor;

and bouncing a balloon.

Across the road at Nicolino’s restaurant our granddaughter polished off two bowls of olives before the starters arrived,

then enthusiastically joined in the toast.

I sat diagonally across from the other gentlemen.

Jackie, opposite me, photographed the ladies. Matthew was also engrossed in the story Becky was relating. Poppy, twisting her noodles, seemed a little concerned that her Grannie had grown a flashing object on her face.

Eventually the menu was studied for a choice of desserts.

Tess’s sunglasses were passed around.

Here is Becky looking none the worse towards the end of the evening,

and Poppy as lively as ever.

This could hardly be said of me when Tess came over to photograph my rather daunting Eton Mess, before which I had consumed a fine minestrone soup with chunks of white bread, followed by an appetising fish risotto. Naomi and I shared the best part of a bottle of Bardolino. As you can see, I was past caring what anyone else had enjoyed.

We stayed the night at Becky and Ian’s and returned home soon after 8 a.m.

Before this I photographed some rooftops from the balcony. Visible in this third picture are

the white doves that live in and around the belfry of St James’s church.

Periodically the birds would take off,

wings glinting, fly over the houses,

and return home to roost.

This evening we dined on flaky smoked haddock, piquant cauliflower cheese, boiled potatoes and carrots, with bright green spinach. I drank Cru de la Vallée du Rhone Chateauneuf du Paps 2015.

Across One Bridge And Under Another

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Being a little more alert and therefore capable of choosing which of the Olympic sports I watched, I confined myself to the rugby sevens.Otherwise I scanned more colour negatives from 1983.

I could not have imagined when I photographed Louisa taking her pushchair for a trip over this bridge in Morden Hall Park, that, almost 30 years later, I would be living in Morden with Jackie, and would engage with another little girl and her mother playing Pooh Sticks from the same refurbished structure.

Sticklebacks on 27th July this year featured the four children fishing in the lake at Richmond Park. In Morden Hall Park the River Wandle was suitably stocked for them to repeat the process.

Here Sam inspects a suitable stick;

Becky has a poke in the river;

and Matthew, closely watched by his younger brother, inspects a catch.

Goodness knows what, also involving Jessica, is being inspected here. It doesn’t look too savoury.

Were we on the River Thames when I made this image of Battersea Power Station? I’m not sure, but, by coincidence, this was the year the structure became empty and the controversies over its future use began. It is now an up-market housing development.

This is the logo of Wandsworth Borough Council.

Further along the Thames lies Putney Bridge under which Matthew walks with a treasured find. This image featured on 23rd May, 2015, but I took that from a print because I had not found the negative.

I trust Messrs Clarke and Knifton will agree that it was a thrush peering at us through the kitchen window as Jackie served up a splendid dinner of pork medallions, boiled potatoes, cauliflower and broccoli with tasty gravy. Neither we nor the thrush imbibed, although the bird did pop down to the Waterboy for a drink. While we ate, our spotted friend kept sliding down the curve of the obelisk upon which she stubbornly perched,

Portraits From 1982 – 1986

In recent days, I have been nominated for two more awards, the Leibster; and the Real Neat Blog by Alex Raphael. Unfortunately I was very tired when I received the first one, and cannot remember who awarded it. I acknowledged it and said I would follow it up the next day. I didn’t get around to it. This is really bad. Having spent ages scrolling down ‘Blogs I follow’, I haven’t been able to track it, so, kind nominator, if you are reading this please accept my apologies. My difficulty was nominating others for this newcomers’ honour, which would have meant checking how long my favourites had been blogging. The questions are also time consuming.

I have reluctantly decided that I am too involved in composing my daily Ramblings to manage this, and will continue to point up blogs I admire in the way I normally do, above, for Alex, and below, for Rob McShane.

On a wet morning, Jackie drove off to replenish our larder, and I, raincoat clad, ambled round the garden,where

the Lady in Black climbing fuchsia, the prunus pissardi leaves , and the honeysuckle enjoyed a cooling shower. Keen observers will notice that my camera lens did too.

Hardy, bedraggled, workers crept into this rhododendron.

The dragon’s armour plating affords him suitable protection.

This photograph is for The Wayward Warrior, an excellent poet.

In Lidl, Jackie found, a superb new Dosset Box that is unlikely to lose its lettering. On account of a slight tear it its packaging, this was sold for 89p.

Since I can’t read braille I was having to guess the different containers in the old one.

This afternoon I returned to the task of sorting, scanning, and returning to photograph albums the prints Elizabeth had borrowed.

Let’s begin with a laughing Louisa in Gracedale Road sometime in 1982. She has never stopped spreading delight.

The summer of 1985 comes next.

Sam appears to be wondering where the contents of his ice cream cone have gone. Looking at his cheeks and chin we would be able to tell him where some was to be found.

A little further on in the year he rides a donkey down the steep steps of the cobbled street in Mousehole, Cornwall’s famous tourist venue.

In the autumn Jessica and I rented a French gite. Here she is in its garden with our son.

I have featured that year’s Christmas at my parents’ home in Morden before. Here is a shot of my youngest brother, Joseph.

This picture of Louisa was taken in the garden of our Gracedale Road house on her fourth birthday in May 1986. Never content with her thumb, she always added her first finger to her mouth when tired.

London experienced a pleasing amount of snow for children that December. Mind you, judging by the expressions on Sam and Louisa’s faces as Matthew pushed or dragged them over the snow, on Gracedale Road, or Tooting Bec Common, it was pretty cold.

Later this afternoon the rain stopped. Jackie continued pruning and weeding, and I did my best to cart the contents of one of the large bins, into which she chucked the cuttings, to the compost heap before she had filled the next one.

This evening we dined at Lal Quilla.Jackie’s main dish was lamb dopiaza; mine was prawn vindaloo. It is many years since I ate a vindaloo I had not cooked myself. That is because, so often, it lacks complexity and seems mostly to consist of curry powder. I thought I would be safe here. I most certainly was. The meal was perfect. We both drank Kingfisher.