On this dull, humid, morning I trudged my circular route to Milford on Sea and back. As I approached a shiny blue motor car parked on the cliff top I instantly recognised it as a Morgan, a classic that I had only ever before seen in magazines. The owner was happy to vacate his vehicle for a photograph. This model, built in the 1960s, kept faithful to the original 1936 design.
This made me think about my friend Georgie Johnson. Georgie, to whom I am indebted for a number of the ideas for my advanced cryptic crosswords, chose the name Morgan for her setter’s pseudonym. Like me, fascinated by Arthurian legend, she thus paid tribute to Morgan le Fay, the mythical king’s evil sister. It is of course traditional for some compilers to select the nomenclature of an evil character by which to be known. The far more famous Torquemada comes to mind. Some would say that Morgan le Fay was the aunt of Mordred, whose name I had chosen. Georgie and I briefly collaborated as Gander, a linking of the end of her nom de plume followed by the beginning of my Christian name. Not as revered as the aforementioned Inquisitor, Mordred did make it into Jonathon Crowther’s 2006 Collins publication ‘A-Z of Crosswords: Insights into the Top Setters and their Puzzles’ (ISBN 0-00-722923-2). My section tells the rather marvellous tale of the publication of a puzzle in honour of Sam’s epic Atlantic Row. The timing of Mark Goodliffe and Simon Anthony, editors of ‘The Magpie’, was perfect.
Speaking to the owner of the Morgan reminded me of another classic car story. This is told in ‘I Can’t Put A Ticket On That’.
In the Nature Reserve, no doubt following the lead of the supermarkets and garden centres, the hollies were stocking up for Christmas.
It has been our practice in the garden this summer to allow unfamiliar plants to remain in situ until we know what they are. On my return home today, one of these that we had thought 
might be an unknown fern, lay stretched out on the dining table. It was an enormous carrot, so misshapen as never to have reached the supermarket shelves.
Our dinner tonight consisted of pork belly in hoi-sin sauce with savoury rice packed with vegetables and chopped omelette. Ginger sponge and custard was to follow. Jackie drank her customary Hoegaarden, whilst I drank Albai reserva rioja 2010.
Tag: Studland Common Nature Reserve
The Chicks Have Hatched
One of the consequences of moving house is the need to wonder where to put things. This is very helpful in encouraging one to complete unfinished organisational tasks begun years ago. In about 2008/9, when living in Sutherland Place, I discovered that some of my books and slide boxes had been damaged by damp. The colour slides themselves were sound, but the boxes were on the wet side, so new containers were essential. I bought some, and decanted the positive films from the worst of the moistened ones. Although I had enough new receptacles to take the contents of the last, least damaged, box, I didn’t finish the task until yesterday. All in the interests of reducing by one the number of containers needing a home.
This led me, this morning, to resuscitating the ‘posterity’ series. My first photo-shoot of Jackie was made on Wimbledon Common in April 1966.
Here is one of the pictures, with the War Memorial in the background top left.
Before this I walked the whole length of Shorefield Road and Sea Breeze Road, taking in the vast acreage of the Country Park. The high-pitched screeching of the gulls over the stubble field on
Downton Lane gave way to the deafening racket of the rookery, at times indistinguishable from that of a reversing Highway Maintenance vehicle.
The lofty nests of the frenetically active rooks are now apparenty occupied by ravenous chicks. The parents flap to and fro keeping their offspring from starving. Each rounded cluster of sticks is guarded by one adult whilst its mate energetically forages.
At the far end of the Sea Breeze section of the park, where building continues unabated, is a meandering stream-crossed woodland walk leading to Studland Common Nature Reserve. Although partly gravelled, the paths tend towards the muddy.
The ear tags of cattle grazing in Studland Meadow reflected the gorse around them.
On my return I met and conversed with two separate dog-walkers. I was quite relieved that the West Highland terrier poised for attack was on the end of a lead, and had probably already had his breakfast.
This afternoon, as promised, our chests of drawers were delivered by Fergusson’s House Clearance.
Before dinner I finished reading Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel ‘The House of the Seven Gables’, in the Folio Society edition illustrated by Francis Mosley. First published in 1851 this is an intriguing story rich in characterisation. The author’s skill in story-telling surmounts the wordiness of some of his language commensurate with his time of writing. The reader’s interest is maintained throughout. There is a touch of mystery about both the house and the writer’s tale, and he ties it all up tidily in the end.
Mosley is a versatile illustrator who remains one of my favourite Folio Society artists.
Our evening meal was roast lamb in tasty gravy, served with crisp vegetables. I drank Cimarosa Chilean merlot from 2013.