Still Confined To The Passenger Seat

As we sat in a queue at the Brockenhurst level crossing this morning I photographed the dry grasses alongside.

We were on our way to Streets, the shop which has everything. Jackie took this location photograph, whilst I

focussed on the windows when we parked outside it.

My more able bodied Chauffeuse also photographed the fungus decorating the oak tree shown above because that required a disembarkation.

Jackie was able to buy wasp foam and wasp powder; and surgical spirit, which may flummox our American readers as it did most of the staff of Streets until one said “isn’t that what they call rubbing alcohol?” “Yes”, replied Jackie who had begun by Googling “rubbing alcohol”, which had been what Dillon had requested.

Our now sparse open tracts of land, normally occupied by grazing ponies, are left empty, except for this one on the edge of Beachern Wood which hosts

just one mare and foal perhaps taking a chance on being able later to

squeeze among the others already clustered for shelter among the trees.

Others, like these in The Coppice at Brockenhurst, find individual shade.

Beside Beachern Wood ancient banks of high hedgerows enjoy diffused light.

On our way towards Wilverley a determined troop of ponies advanced, perhaps in search of their own refuge.

This afternoon I read another couple of chapters of Naipaul.

We dined this evening on Jackie’s well-filled beef pie; crisp fried potatoes; firm carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli, with meaty gravy. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegarden; I drank more of the Bordeaux; Flo and Dillon drank water.

Traffic Control Duties

On the morning of a very dull day we cleared much more of the wisteria arbour. We have now realised that the plant itself held the posts in check, thus protecting the greenhouse and the potted plants. Jackie carefully extricated the beams from the clutches of the heavily pruned wisteria, and, apart from a couple returning the security service,

we transported them to the stack we have at the far end of the garden beside the orange shed. The very long one required two of us to carry it. On the way along the Gazebo Path I lost my balance and fell to the ground. My unharmed right elbow landed on the border stone and sent a shock up my arm to my shoulder. After lying on my back for a while I managed to get to my feet with the aid of a chair Jackie brought me. I shifted another couple of beams then called it a day. My shoulder hurts so I am looking after it.

After lunch we drove to Streets ironmongers in Brockenhurst where Jackie bought firelighters and a few other items. We continued further into the forest.

Despite the pewter dome placed over the autumn colours of the woodland, they were not to be dimmed.

Evidence of the very recent breaking of a splendid beech tree was presented in the form of recently sawn logs and their dust around the roots.

Ponies at East Boldre were on

hedge clipping,

grass cutting, and traffic control duties.

The waterlogged corner at St Leonards Road still provides cold soup for the animals.

This evening we dined on pork spare ribs, hot and spicy prawns, and Jackie’s flavoursome omelette-topped savoury rice with which she finished the Chardonnay and I finished the Douro.