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Advent Day 19

“The historic market town of Ringwood occupies a strategic position on the western edge of the New Forest with the renowned Avon Valley long-distance walking path passing through it. Vital ancient trading links once provided by the River Avon and the Victorian railway have been replaced by excellent road systems with the town at the crossroads of the A31 and A338 offering fast journeys to and from Southampton, Poole, Salisbury and Bournemouth.

The Wednesday street market has been held in the Market Place since a charter was awarded in 1226, this charter has been held by the family of Lord Morant for hundreds of years. Animals and agricultural goods were still bought and sold into the 1980s, but now a wide variety of merchandise can be found, complimented at the weekends by farmers and speciality markets held in The Furlong and Gateway Square.

The exact history of the town remains unknown however in 955 AD, documents suggest that ‘Rimucwude’ is mentioned which translates into the ‘rim of the forest’. A church and a mill were also mentioned in the Domesday Book in 1086.

In 1725, brewing took off in Ringwood as breweries made use of the waters of the River Avon giving rise to great beers.” https://www.thenewforest.co.uk/explore/towns-and-villages/ringwood/

“After the [Civil War] Battle of Sedgemoor on 6 July 1685, [James Scott] the 1st Duke of Monmouth was arrested near Horton, just outside Ringwood. Monmouth is believed to have hid in a ditch under an ash tree disguised as a shepherd, but was betrayed by a local woman who (according to legend) later killed herself in remorse. Monmouth was then taken to the house now named Monmouth House in West Street (between the Market Place and the Fish Inn) where he wrote a letter (in vain) to James II begging forgiveness. He was brought to trial in the Tower of London by the infamous “Hanging Judge Jefferies” and subsequently beheaded. Legend relates that it was realised after the execution that there was no official portrait of the Duke; so his body was exhumed, the head stitched back on the body, and it was sat for its portrait to be painted.”( https://www.newforest-online.co.uk/ringwood.asp )

Late this afternoon we photographed the town’s main street.

Here is my gallery;

and here, Jackie’s.

As usual clicking on any picture will access its gallery. I have chosen the header mainly for its apt choice of paintings on display.

This evening we dined on chicken Kiev with garlic and parsley centres; oven chips; cauliflower, carrots, runner beans, and spinach, with which I finished the Malbec.

Advent Day 7

Lymington is now an elegant largely Georgian town, but its history, as described in https://derrickjknight.com/2019/12/07/the-charter-market/ is much earlier.

As reported yesterday, that is when Jackie and I carried out the photoshoot for this day because Storm Darragh was expected, and did in fact beset the town while I drafted this post.

Jackie parked in the carpark at the bottom of the hill that is Lymington High Street, and began by photographing me (about one third up on the left side of the pavement) setting off to the top; while she, being the more able to manage it, set off down the cobbled Quay Street, the

subject of my first picture, before I had begun my upward climb.

In fact my actual first had been taken through the car windscreen as we searched for a spot to leave the Hyundai.

Otherwise I focussed largely on shop windows.

Jackie made her way down, through the bollards, to the quayside at the far end of Quay Street, also concentrating on windows, such as those of

Dials Antique Clocks, where we bought our own some years ago https://derrickjknight.com/2016/02/05/phases-of-the-moon/ ;

the Old Customs House winery, dating from c1680;

Blu Bambu furniture and The King’s Head pub.

Rounding the corner of the hostelry

she closed with two views of Captain’s Row.

This afternoon I read more of ‘Gentian Hill’.

For dinner this evening we enjoyed Jackie’s chicken curry and savoury rice with which she drank Diet Coke and I finished the Albali.

Pumpkins And Witchcraft

This morning we stacked the Hyundai to the gunwales with more bags of garden refuse and a large aluminium container. One of the bags contained the roots of the felled bay tree, the stump of which bears the initials of Aaron, Mark, and Steve who rid us of the tree. The last named now works at Efford Recycling Centre and helps us a great deal when we unload our garden refuse.

Later, I finished reading Agatha Christie’s ‘The Under Dog’ which I will review soon.

On our return from the tip we noticed a pumpkin display drawing attention to the sale of eggs from a resident of Christchurch Road which pointed us towards Burley later the afternoon.

On the way up Holmsley Passage we followed a cycling family before

watching the efforts of another driver persuading ponies to scarper.

Burley was in full witchy celebration mode. The first eight of these images all bearing titles in the gallery are mine. The next nine by Jackie, who also photographed

a clock to confirm our location.

This evening we dined on delicious smoked haddock cheese centred fishcakes from Lidl; Jackie’s piquant cauliflower and leek cheese and crunchy carrots, with which I finished the Fleurie.

Either Side Of Sunset

For the first time for months I was able fully to carry my weight at a supermarket shop when we visited Lidl early this morning. This involves walking to the generally far side of the shop, carrying, for example, a box of a dozen cartons of milk back to the Catering Chief, loading it into her trolley, then seeking something else, collecting it, finding her again, and seeking further direction. My knees found this more stressful than my neck and shoulder, thanks to my chiropractor, with whom I kept another successful appointment either side of sunset.

This was our view from Christchurch Road on the way there. Our favourite wind-sculpted tree stands against the sky while a puddle on the verge reflects what is too dark too discern of a boundary fence.

Just twenty minutes later New Milton’s Christmas lights were at their best. The Chiropractic clinic features on the right of the first picture.

We took the Downton Lane (first picture) and the coast road (next two) route to Milford on Sea, where I photographed

the lights on the green, and

The windows of Sears Barber featuring my hairdresser, and The Pickled Weasel, which reflected the lights on the green’s Christmas trees.

This evening we all dined on meaty roast chicken thighs, Aunt Bessie’s Yorkshire puddings; Lyonnaise potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower and Brussels sprouts, and meaty gravy with which I drank more of the Côtes du Rhône.

Christmas Carols

On a bright, sunny, and chilly morning Jackie drove me to Sears Barbers in Milford on Sea for my haircut.

The shop is opposite the green where all the regular Christmas decorations have been renewed.

The post box can be seen from the barbers.

Alongside the two decorated boxes stand the car park bollards.

While I wandered among the fresh craftwork I was entertained by a group of melodious carol singers.

The three kings, shepherds, angels, sheep, lambs, and Mary and Joseph with the crib were all newly painted.

Benches and waste bins all bore new decorations;

the wicker deer may have survived intact from last year.

Many of the shops sported festive windows.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s authentic Chicken Jalfrezi, with Butter Chicken for Flo and Ellie, and savoury rice, sprinkled with cropped coriander, and parathas, with which I drank Hacienda Uvanis Garnacha Old Vines 2020.

High Street Features

This morning Jackie left the Modus alongside a protected tree in the Beaulieu car park.

From there we walked along the path to the High Street, Jackie to seek a gift in one of

the several tasteful shops, and me to gather pictures of them and other features.

A parked car reflected the awning of one of the outlets.

Vehicles were parked along both sides of the narrow street. A truck belonged to scaffolders, one of whom seemed to be sporting an impressively long mohican.

A split in a roof rack wrapper revealed snow crystals.

Decorative brickwork and pointed arches embellished early facades;

while modern aerials were installed on chimney stacks, such as those

glimpsed through bare branches. Another tree with a gnarled and severed trunk is engaged in healthy regeneration.

The Beaulieu Bakehouse restaurant, which was once the village bakery offers enticing indoor lamplight from its windows.

One wall bears a letter box bearing the initials GR, thus following the tradition since the reign of Queen Victoria, of allocating the stamp of the royal incumbent of the time. When this feature was fitted this would have been our current king’s grandfather. For the following seventy years they all bore ER, our longest ever reigning monarch. We await the first CR, for her son, Charles.

From the High Street can be seen the bus stop shelter alongside the lake of the Beaulieu River.

Hopefully not for the same original purpose as staddle stones, the job of which is to allow storage buildings to be lifted clear of the ground, the refuge stands on low brick pillar supports. The barns once stored produce such as grain or hay, keeping the contents free of ground level water, and preventing rats or other vermin from reaching them. The wooden building rests on the smooth round tops of the mushroom shapes.

Later, I gave the following posts the upgrade to Block Editing:

Bats

because of the stable stones link;

Hidden Treasures

because it continues the story of the arrival in Old Post House and has now been categorised as Garden. (The garden mentioned in Bats, above, is Elizabeth’s in which we worked before moving down here)

Black And White Discoveries

because it explains the stray header.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s tangy lemon chicken and colourful savoury rice with which she finished the Orvieto and I drank Puglia Nero di Troia 2020.

My New Wife

Today was largely spent on the last of our Christmas shopping and wrapping presents.

Jackie made some purchases from Tesco early in the morning, then

drove me to Lymington High Street.

While she waited in the car park I walked down to the Perfumer’s and back.

Among the various shop windows I passed were those of so many charities that I reflected on this trend of our UK high streets, and wondered whether

this apparently derelict premises was destined to join its neighbours.

Our next venue was Setley Ridge Garden Centre where among its displays we found our final gift.

We arrived at the cash desk at the same time as another shopping family, the aunt of which was assumed to be my wife. This caused a certain amount of hilarious banter.

It being Flo’s birthday, we will all be dining with Becky, who has arrived here, and Ian who we will meet there, to celebrate at Lal Quilla.

Marl Pits

On another bright, chill, morning we sought Christmas presents at Old Milton, where the pavement display outside Serendipity offered

an embarrassment of fantastic figures which we managed to resist.

Our next venue was Lymington High Street where a well stocked toyshop encouraged visitors;

and Santa displayed the skills of Friends hairdressers.

When parking at the back of this main street, Jackie always marvels at the bucolic views beyond the chimney tops,

which can, themselves be seen across the crow-lined fields from Main Road.

Commoners once enjoyed the right to gather fallen branches for fuel and to dig out lime rich clay from the marl pits. These ancient privileges are no longer granted.

Trees must lie where they fall in order to benefit the lively ecology of the forest.

The marl has been dug out for centuries, leaving the pits that we now see, and, with the growth of new trees and shrubs, cut out the light to the ancient specimens of flora and fauna, gradually changing the nature of the land and killing off previously extant plants and insects.

We were led to Crockford inclosure, where the fallen birch above was photographed, by smoke spirals curling into the air. Nearby we witnessed a group of people

working hard at the bottom of these steeply sloping sided pits in the land.

Naturally I investigated with my camera.

It was in the clearing where brushwood was burning that I met Alison who gave me my information. The workers are all volunteers working for the forestry commission on this important recovery project. In order to return the pits to their pristine condition the larger trees are felled by contractors; the unpaid enthusiasts cut and

burn the smaller boughs

and leave neat piles of sawn logs to house wildlife, gather mushrooms, and return eventually to the soil.

My informant explained that the steep sides are retained to stop ponies tearing up the terrain and tearing up and out into the road opposite.

The pit site crosses under this thoroughfare to a previously cleared area to where, according to one of the gentlemen to whom I spoke,

a rare diving water beetle has returned. My informant didn’t know exactly which one, but he said it was very rare. Given that most are apparently black and the brown one is ‘just about holding its own’ (New Forest National Park Authority) I have chosen this illustration of a brown one. https://www.newforestnpa.gov.uk/discover/wildlife/beetles/brown-diving-beetle/

As one might expect, a robin took great interest in the proceedings.

This evening we dined at The Wheel Inn. We Both chose thick, meaty, beef burgers with crisp onion rings, plentiful fresh salad, and more chinky chips than we could eat. These followed tempura prawns for Jackie and a veritable shoal of whitebait with doorsteps of brown toasted bread. Each starter was lavishly garnished with excellent salad. Jackie drank Kaltenberg lager and I drank Ringwood’s Best bitter.

Witchcraft With Acorns

The light today was gloomy and the slate-grey overhead colander-canopy constantly leaked drizzle.

Jackie reported that this morning while Muggle tweeted in her ear she realised that there was another exchange of battle cries between

Nugget and someone else who occupied the garden of No 5 Downton Lane. There are now three robins setting out their territory. Later, when Jackie tried to engage Nugget in conversation while he was perched on the rose garden fence, he turned his back on her. “Aren’t you talking to me?”, she asked. He peered over his shoulder, fixed her witheringly, and turned away again.

“Where’s Nugget?” (41).

Given the date, we thought a trip to Burley, the village of witches, might be order.

In Everton Road the New Zealand flag fluttered limply at half mast. This was clearly in mourning for the All Blacks’ defeat by England last Saturday in the Rugby World Cup Semi Final. The New Zealanders have been the acknowledged best team in the world throughout my lifetime. Three times world champions, they had not lost any match in the tournament for twelve years.

Nearby a cross-eyed pumpkin face sat on a wall.

Despite the dismal drizzle Holmsley Passage managed to put on a bright face,

even though someone had dumped a sofa on the verge.

Jackie photographed me as I wandered along for a while.

Landscapes on the moorland section were misted by dripping precipitation.

At Burley a pair of guinea fowl created their own mix of havoc, amusement, and trepidation, as they wandered back and forth across the through road.

One young lady crouching with her mobile phone graphically expressed her concern as they stepped off the kerb;

two young cyclists seemed a bit bemused.

While I concentrated on these two, Jackie observed a chicken eating an ice cream.

Shop windows venerated the season;

we both pictured The Mall,

guarded by a pumpkin witch.

All the little shops in this small street sported suitable adornments.

Jackie entered a gift shop in search of stocking fillers. She emerged with two owls, which, if Orlaith got her sums right, makes the current garden total 93.

This evening we dined at The Wheel at Bowling Green. Jackie enjoyed tempura prawn starters followed by a rack of ribs, fries, onion rings, and plentiful fresh salad; my choice was equally good breaded whitebait, salad and toast followed by rib-eye steak, chips, mushroom, tomato, and peas. Mrs Knight drank Kaltenberg and I drank Malbec.

What’s For Lunch?

On another dismal but drier day, Elizabeth left early to transport Mum to her respite care home in Netley.
A little later Jackie and I drove to Ringwood where I collected some printer inks while she did some Christmas shopping. We met in

Café Aroma where we lunched to our satisfaction.

I chose Italian ham turkey and mushroom pie; roast potatoes and veg,while Jackie’s meal was a jacket potato with tuna and salad.

Santa has learned that hobbits have moved into Ringwood where they have constructed a purpose built chimney. Here he is testing it for size. From the length of his legs he won’t be able to stand up in a hobbit’s house.

Some of the shops have entered into the spirit of the season.

Edinburgh Woollen Mill lies across the road from the café;

a couple of doors away is M & Co.

Ringwood Fabrics brightens The High Street,

as does Townhouse Hair Co.,

across the road from which Roberts Jewellers

rather appropriately rubs shoulders with Anna’s Bridal Gowns.

Arcade Flowers

warrants a second image.

On our way home we took a diversion through the forest.

We were led along the road between Ibsley and South Gorley by string of forlorn looking bedraggled ponies

wrapped in towels, apparently having just got out of the bath.

Even I, after stepping from the car, was able to keep up with them as, heads down, they trudged along the centre of the tarmac.

They wandered hopefully into the driveway of Mockbeggar Cottage, but came away unsatisfied. I imagine they are often provided with lunch there.

They were restricted to their usual trampled fare on the village green.

At Ogdens I was rash enough to open my passenger window to photograph a pair of donkeys on hedge cutting duties at the verge.

This is always a signal for these delightful, gentle, creatures to stick their heads through the window silently asking “what’s for lunch?”. I was quite grateful that they do not slobber.

Having seen what we had for lunch it is only to be expected that Jackie and I dined this evening on small portions of her delicious beef pie meal. Elizabeth will be home later.