railway arch – derrickjknight

“It’s Their Road, Not Mine”

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Eucalyptus shadow

We enjoyed another splendidly sunny summer’s day. In the garden the eucalyptus cast its welcome shadow across the grass;

while tulips, daffodils, wallflowers, and cowslips glowed in the sunshine.

At lunchtime I received a date for my first knee replacement. It is 18th May. I have never heard of anything so fast. This afternoon I undertook the blood test for the hip replacement check. Jackie having driven me to Lymington Hospital for the latter, we continued into the forest.

The primrose bank alongside the stream in Royden Lane was also streaked with shadows. A pair of cyclists happily rode by at an opportune moment.

Horses in field

I imagine the hay heaped in the field opposite was essential food for the horses a week or so ago. Now the grass is coming through again.

This land may have dried out now, but parts of the forest, like this area outside Brockenhurst, were still waterlogged. Instead of shadows we were treated to reflections of trees, some of which had fallen. After such wet periods as the terrain has recently endured, there are always more fallen trees. Often the roots rot and the giants topple.

Two ponies, dozing under a railway arch may, perhaps, two or three weeks ago have used this shelter as an umbrella; today it was a parasol. A pair of cyclists skirted the animals in order not to disturb them. “It’s their road, not mine”, said the leading woman.

Orange berberis flamed in the hedgerows outside Exbury Gardens, while white wood anemones, yellow celandines, and little violets festooned the banks of a dry ditch opposite.

This evening we dined at The Royal Oak. Jackie enjoyed a huge portion of chicken tandoori, while I tucked into an excellent rib eye steak cooked exactly as I asked. Jackie’s drink was Amstell, mine was a rather good Argentinian Malbec.

The Infant Crocodile

Jackie drove me to and from New Milton today, for me to take an uneventful journey to Waterloo and back, to lunch with Norman at Tas in The Cut.

Fresh pansies in the station platform planter bore remnants of last night’s rain.

I approached The Cut by walking across Waterloo Road and down Alaska Street to Cornwall Road where I turned right. The gentleman using his mobile phone was quite happy to appear in shot.

Further along Cornwall Road a multi-ethnic infant crocodile was led under a railway arch,

beneath which a pair of gentlemen in hard hats subsequently made their way, as the children filed through yellow cased scaffolding supports further up Cornwall Road.

The bright red buses in their station, like Shakespeare’s players, have their exits and their entrances.

A uniformed conversation took place in The Cut,

where the Young Vic restaurant encouraged alfresco custom,

and Bill Stickers changed the posters advertising the new programme.

Norman and I both chose tender lamb casserole followed by perfect baklava for our meal, and shared a very good bottle of the Anatolian house red wine.

My return to the terminal railway station was taken along Waterloo Road where the foundations of the building alongside the old fire station appear to have been completed.

Reflecting On Centuries Of Building

Jackie drove me to and from New Milton for me to travel to The Tas Turkish restaurant in The Cut to lunch with Carol.

For a little variety I walked from Waterloo Station through the early Victorian terraced streets to the East of Waterloo Road.

Typical is Roupell Street which has Valentino Hairdressers on one corner and Konditor and Cook’s attractive bakers on the other. Typical of the mid-nineteenth century, these dwellings have no front gardens and a narrow hall leading to the rooms inside. These two bedroomed properties can be found on the market for more than £1,000,000. I can assure those readers across The Pond that the correct number of noughts is shown here. The street lamps are probably reproductions.

Modern glass fronted blocks tower above the London stock brickwork and terra cotta chimneys of their older neighbours. Since London is a smoke free zone the chimneys are probably retained for cosmetic purposes.

Telephone cables and television aerials add touches of two further centuries to the original buildings.

These side streets are lined with railway arches over which lines run into the terminal railway station. This proximity renders the tranquil nature of the historic little streets, off the bottlenecked The Cut, quite surprising.

In Cornwall Road a shorter wall of glass reflects the terraces opposite,

and in Webber Street, alongside The Old Vic, a more lofty block carries the images of others on the opposite side.

The flats in The Cut, reflected in a puddle on which float recently fallen autumn leaves, were built in the period between the new and the old. The soggy dog end spilling tobacco into the bottom left of the picture is a common sight, now that smoking is prohibited in workplaces or public buildings.

A working crane, like this one beyond the end of Short Street, is not an uncommon sight.

Carol and I enjoyed an excellent meal with our usual pleasurable conversation. Although we chose different starters, we both savoured the tasty chicken casserole, and moist baklavas, with a glass each of the house wines.