ropes – derrickjknight

Round The Harbour

On a sun-bright, finger-tingling afternoon we drove to Mudeford where I wandered for a while.

Fishing paraphernalia including coiled ropes, piled crab pots, bright buoys and rust-red chains lay neatly on the concrete and gravel area. Someone with a sense of national colours had placed a a child’s bright red and blue hat on an overturned white rowing boat.

There were plenty of socially distanced walkers, some casting long shadows.

A couple watched by a man sailing a dinghy passed the beach huts opposite; two others crunched along the shallows where

a young man photographed the still floundering capsized sailboat;

so did I, and Jackie focussed on the derelict rowing boat beside it.

A small group of cottages with good views of the sea are perched upon the quay itself.

Three silhouettes were working on some boats; others, with tinkling masts, were moored for the winter.

Jackie also photographed the open shore line, and pictured me, wings spread to aid balance while negotiating undulating potholes.

Early this evening Richard from Kitchen Makers visited to fix a leak in the kitchen waste pipe. He insisted on coming right away and refused payment, regarding this as after sales service. So service is not completely dead.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy chicken jalfrezi, boiled basmati rice, and parathas, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Macon.

Proliferated In The Last Month

On this fine spring morning we took a trip to Mudeford.

Gulls lined up to welcome us as Jackie drove towards the quay.

A pair of serene cygnets sailed across the calm harbour, while a hunched egret tried to pass itself off as a gull.

Currents meeting on the open sea created spray-tipped turbulence

towards which a speedboat motored.

A silhouetted group was breaking up on the quayside,

with its usual stacks of crab pots, buoys, and ropes.

Along the coast at Avon Beach solitary walker ignored the spray, while, try as it might, by kicking up sand, a dog was unable to distract its owner from her mobile phone.

We continued into the forest where, in the vicinity of Burley, grey ponies dotted the landscape.

Having laboured up a steep hill, a trio of cyclists seemed relieved to coast down the other side.

When we returned home I ventured out into the garden for the first time since my surgery. During my tour I was delighted with the array of hellebores, cyclamens, and snowdrops that have proliferated in the last month.

This evening we dined on pork chops baked with English mustard and almonds from elsewhere; roast potatoes and parsnips; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; and tender runner beans with tasty gravy.

Tree House Construction Manual

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT AS REQUIRED

The weather in Newark in June 1992 was drier than it is at the moment. Today I therefore scanned a batch of colour negatives produced during that month.

The erection of a rather splendid tree house in a false acacia tree in the garden of Lindum House had begun before I began to record it. Sam and Louisa had enlisted the help of brothers Gavin and Ian to begin the project.

Louisa was a willing hod carrier, bearing planks for the flooring;

further invention was employed for hauling up greater quantities. You may be forgiven for imagining that William Heath Robinson exerted some influence on this ingenuity. One rope was extended from this tree to another on the other side of the lawn. Attached to this was another bearing a faggot of heavy planks hauled across by Sam, in the bottom left of the picture. Gavin, up aloft awaited its arrival. This took me back to Kennards department store in Wimbledon which had a similar system for conveying cash from counter to office. As will be seen from this photograph you cannot keep a lawn while children are young and you have to accommodate a swing and goalposts.

Gavin and Ian began the task of heaving the floorboards up to the required level.

Sam was soon up there to add his muscle;

eventually the materials reached the required level.

The next storey was soon in place.

The roof bore the combined weight of Sam and James Bird.

Louisa then joined in the test.

Up to seven or eight children would sleep overnight in this three storey house.

A sequel to the story of this adventure is told in ‘The Tree House’.

This evening we dined on minted lamb steaks; roasted sweet potato, peppers and mushrooms; new potatoes, carrots, broccoli and greens. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank a 2015 Bordeaux.

Sunshine And Showers (2)

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

Knowing that we were to expect heavy rain all weekend, and that the first hour or two this morning would offer sunshine and showers, we drove out to Mudeford seeking what light there was.

This proved to be interesting. The sun came and went, offering dramatic cloudscapes over the sea;

over the beach huts;

over the harbour;

and over the small town.

Recent downpours had left pools for cars to drive though.

Moored boats bobbed on the choppy wavelets in the sheltered waters,

over which sped a powered vessel.

A number of little rowing boats had filled with water

or capsized.

One, overturned, provided a resting place for juvenile gulls.

We felt sympathy for holidaymakers wrapped in waterproofs, and even more for the intrepid stallholders setting up for the weekend’s Art and Craft Fair.

Almost oblivious of the industry going on around them, a jogger,

a pair of dog walkers,

and a loving couple, continued about their business.

A heap of bright red paddle boards awaited rental customers.

The usual fishing paraphernalia lined the quayside. This couple examined

crab pots;

ropes and lines;

fluttering flags;

and buoys reflecting sunlight

or themselves mirrored in pools,

as were visitors following the first young lady forming a queue for the ferry.

Around the side of the quay the couple I had just passed gazed out to sea.

The most dramatic light of the visit fell on a group beside the car park.

As we left Mudeford for a late breakfast at Friar’s Cliff’s Beach Hut Café, three sail boats set out to sea.

They had made it safely to Friar’s Cliff by the time we reached there.

On the cliff top at Steamer Point lie three very large circular concrete bases.

Their story is now explained on an engraved metal plate fixed to a rock.

This evening we dined on chicken tikka and boiled egg salad. Well, we had had a large, late, fried breakfast. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I drank more of the malbec.

Winter Quarters

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN CLUSTERS ACCESS GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

Fibre optic broadband installation takes place in the exchange, and we cannot obtain a projected time for the work. It could be as late as midnight. James Peacock will therefore bring the router tomorrow morning. So the uploading struggles continue today.

Today’s fresh blooms in the rose garden are those of Crown Princess Margareta; and the honeysuckle on the entrance arch is under the reasonable impression that Spring has arrived.

This afternoon we visited Dials on the bottom corner of Quay Street, Lymington, to buy a Christmas present;

then walked down to the quayside. A friendly young fisherman I have featured both in Lymington and in Mudeford, was steering his little boat into dock. I wonder if his

and this one are kinds of coracle.

My young friend explained that he spends the period from the winter months to Easter at Lymington, because this calmer harbour is much safer than the other, which is exposed to the open sea. Crab pots, ropes, and buoys are neatly piled on the quay.

There was no other activity on the water with its forest of masts,

except for that of mallards and gulls ignoring the signs forbidding diving and mooring.

This evening we enjoyed a second helping of Hordle Chinese Take Away’s delicious food. Jackie drank Hoegaarden whilst I chose Doom Bar.

Anticipation

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED.

Early this morning Jackie drove me out to Mudeford Quay for a photoshoot.

Neatly piled up are fishermen’s equipment, such as

ropes and chains,

and what I believe are crab pots,

and marker buoys.

It must have been the hazy heat that led us to water for the second day running. Even quite early it wrapped The Needles and their lighthouse in clingfilm as a yacht slipped past the Isle of Wight and a buoy bobbed in the bay.

Holidaymakers were emerging from their picturesque accommodation,

but otherwise families had not yet driven in their droves when we arrived and I wandered around watching various aquatic activities such as rowing;

what I am grateful to several commenters below, to be able to call paddle-boarding;

yachting;

and casting for fish.

Discussion about plans for the day took place while leaning on a boat,

or by means of the mobile phone. This paddling gentleman was soon joined by two children and a woman who rang to ask where he was. He was amused when I showed him the picture.

Even the gulls kept largely out of sight, except for one looking startled on the water,

and another surveying the scene from a rather motley rooftop.

Nearby, a roofer’s head was already lit by the sun which would soon bear straight down on him;

and The Haven staff were already watering the hanging baskets.

In eager anticipation of the first ferry trip to Hengistbury Head

families surged onto the quay

and formed an ever-lengthening queue.

The transport arrived on time and eager embarkation began.

The barriers around the quayside are to prevent anyone taking a dive down the steps leading up to the platform.

This father looked as if he was feeling the strain;

until he entered the boat and his partner brought along the empty buggy.

The last few boarders took their places,

and the fully laden boat set off.

As I returned to the car I spotted a large sandy dog excavating the spit across the water.

This afternoon I gave Jackie token assistance with watering the garden.

This even we dined on the Culinary Queen’s wholesome sausage, bacon, and heart casserole. She drank Hoegaarden and I quaffed more of the Côtes du Rhône.