www.weather. That is what 50 m.p.h. winds have turned our wet and warm days into. (Mr WordPress took my joke one stage further. I didn’t type http:// and he won’t let me erase it)
We went out for a drive this morning; first down to the clifftop over Hordle beach at Milford on Sea; then through the forest via Burley, Fritham, Lyndhurst, and Brockenhurst.
In the early part of the afternoon I watched the second televised Rugby League match between England and New Zealand. This reminded me why I had given up on it years ago.
Afterwards, I worked on the morning’s photos. Normally, I do very little in the processing, but today I wanted the results to reflect the mood of the day, so I converted most into black and white, and toned down the colour a little in the three that were not made into monochrome. This subduing was because the camera had produced slightly brighter colour than was available to the eye.
Jackie parked the car at Paddy’s Gap, so we could watch the mountainous seas pounding beneath us. I had a very difficult job prising the car door open against the gale, and when I emerged, the driving rain blurred my vision and, as can be seen, left its mark on the camera lens.
A pair of lone joggers performed the involuntary dance of falling leaves, as they battled along the path. I swear the lighter one was lifted aloft.
Interestingly, the more we drove into the forest, the less the wind blew, but the rain was just as heavy and pools were beginning to develop on the grass and heathers. All cars had their headlights in operation, even at 11 a.m.
Perhaps we should not have been surprised than there was scarcely a pony in sight. Areas where we would expect to see many of them cropping the grass or molesting tourists in the car parks, bore no sign of life except the wind sending reluctant leaves, not yet ready for hibernation, spinning on the more slender twigs before spiralling downwards.
Most equines had no doubt repaired to the middle of the forest in search of shelter.
The outskirts of Fritham are normally well populated by shetland ponies.
Today, just one, bedraggled, muddied, munched alone.
For dinner this evening, The Cook produced a tasty lasagna with a melange of fried Mediterranean vegetables, followed by Tesco’s chocolate eclairs. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Madiran.