After a rain shower on another unusually warm and sunny day, while waiting for a call back from Peacock Computers, I wandered around the garden;
produced another batch of photographs including fuchsias, dahlias, begonias, clematis Margaret Hunt, Ginger Lily seedpods. petunias, cosmos, Morning Glory, and the ubiquitous self-seeded bidens surviving from summer 2020; then girded my loins in order to set about the struggle to upload them into WordPress media.
This time only one failed to upload because of an error, but two were relocated from the desktop as incompatible with the new operating system. I was able to put those back where they belonged.
Max from Peacock Computers has arranged a home visit on Thursday.
Buoyed by my earlier success Jackie drove me to Barton on Sea to watch the sunset.
The ten photos I loaded when we arrived home were accepted by WP without a glitch.
Later, we dined on a refreshed reprise of yesterday’s roast dinner, each with our preferred beverage.
Now that the last few days’ brisk breezes have subsided, and with a clear cerulean sky above and cool temperatures below, this morning I gathered up a few fallen branches from the beech and weeping birch trees; some cryptomeria clippings; and Jackie’s piled debris from the rose garden.
After lunch I toured with my camera and, beginning with a couple of the vases the Head Gardener has filled with her red carpet rose cuttings, photographed
some of our continuing survivors, including roses like the unidentified pink.climber, the stronger pink Aloha, the yellow Summer Wine which the bee is seen leaving, and the ever-abundant For Your Eyes only; three prolific dahlias; fuchsias Garden News, Mrs Popple, the tiny all white Hawkshead, and the ubiquitous Delta’s Sarah. The continuation of the blue Morning Glory is particularly unusual, although the fly on its leaf is not so. I completed my collection with a clump of chrysanthemums and Florence sculpture with her baskets of bidens and other flowers surrounded by swaying verbena bonariensis.
Shortly before sunset my Chauffeuse drove us to Barton on Sea’s Marine Drive East
to watch the sun going down. We were not the only spectators.
Later we dined on more of Jackie’s winter stewp, with the addition of chopped potatoes and fava beans, and crusty bread and butter. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2019.
This morning was spent cleaning, tidying, and vacuuming the house, and completing bed-making. After lunch I scanned the next five of Charles Keeping’s inimitable illustrations to ‘Our Mutual Friend’.
‘ ‘There’s nothing new, I suppose’, said Venus’ gives the artist an opportunity to represent the distance between three men in the room by occupying a double page spread.
‘ ‘Yah,’ said Mr Boffin, with a snap of his fingers’
‘Mincing Lane’
‘Mr Twemlow lays down his aching head’
‘The two men looked at one another’
Later this afternoon we shopped at Tesco. The woman on the check-out normally worked in the attached petrol station, which was now closed. She told Jackie that they were receiving uninterrupted deliveries as usual, but were sold out early in the mornings.
This evening we dined on pizza, the remains of Jackie’s arrabbiata sauce, and plentiful fresh salad, with which she drank Diet Coke and I finished the Cotes du Rhone Villages.
Afterwards we considered our tank still contained enough petrol for
Yesterday evening, the first of the new Covid lockdown relaxations, we dined alfresco at the Lamb Inn in Nomansland.
Outside the pub John, the owner of a coach and horses, and his friends had stopped for refreshment. Our timing was perfect. We may have been somewhat early for our booking, but, had that not been the case we would have missed a treat,
and I would not have had this photo opportunity.
This remarkably disciplined team, at the quietest commands from their driver, executed a perfect turning circle and trotted off round the bend in the direction of Landford.
Jackie also photographed the scene outside the pub, the departure of the team;
and ponies on the green;
as did I, with the war memorial in the top right hand corner.
As we were early we drove to Fritham to watch the clouds breaking up over the landscape.
By the time we were seated the sun was in full view, and the temperature 10C, which is the warmest it has been for several days.
Jackie enjoyed focussing on the hanging baskets, cherry blossom, magnolia, hand sanitiser, the invitation to use the patio door for toilets;
and of course our choices of meal, of which hers was extremely good chicken madras, accompanied by flavoursome rice, mint yoghurt, and mango chutney. I am averse to pub curries because I don’t expect them to taste like the real thing. I could tell from the aromas that I was wrong about this one, which was as good as my Culinary Queen said it was. My well filled steak and ale pie, chips, and peas were equally good. We both chose choice ice cream sundae for dessert. I drank Doom Bar and Jackie drank Carlsberg. As will be seen by all my undone buttons I did not need the layers with which I had come prepared.
On our return home through Bramshaw we needed to wait for a peacock to leave the tarmac and wander across the green in the direction of a confusion of Guinea fowl. Nearby a leather-lipped pony chomped on blackthorn.
We reached Hordle Lane in time to watch the sun subside in the west.
Elizabeth joined us for dinner this evening, which consisted of Jackie’s scrumptious cottage pie with a cheese topping; crunchy carrots; tender cabbage; firm cauliflower, and meaty gravy. Mrs Knight drank Hoegaarden and my sister and I drank Mendoza Malbec 2019.
Early this morning I finished reading ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’ by Charles Dickens, and scanned the last three of Charles Keeping’s illustrations to my Folio Society edition of 1987.
This book bears all the qualities of Mr Dickens’s story-telling. We have mystery, suspense, moving prose, humour, and more than a touch of sarcasm. There is a wealth of characters intricately knitted together. As is typical the personages are uncomplicated; they are either sinners or saints.
The prose flows at quite a rate; the descriptions of a range of locations from city to countryside are often lyrical, and at times unattractive. Dialogue expands characterisation, while refraining from irritating attempts at the vernacular such as sometimes employed elsewhere. Cameo introductions of various contemporary environments and individuals are informative. I find it is quite helpful that the author reminds us of characters we may have forgotten about.
Christopher Hibbert’s knowledgeable and informative introduction expresses the commonly held view that in this work Dickens is attempting to write out his grief at the death of his idealised and adored young sister-in-law.
Normally when I review a book I try not to reveal anything of the story. This has been largely adhered to despite my decision to feature every one of the artist’s exemplary illustrations. Mr Keeping’s final image does indicate the ending, but hopefully there is still much to discover for new readers.
‘The water toyed and sported with its ghastly freight’ is suitably grim.
The young gentleman in ‘Bidding the travellers farewell’ is recognisable from previous portraits, notably in the dock. It is clear that the young lady does not want him to leave.
‘She was dead, and past all help, or need of it’
For a number of years around the end of the last millennium, I performed a consultancy role at Portugal Prints, the Westminster Association of Mental Health project then situated in Portugal Street, WC2. This was around the corner from Portsmouth Street where stood the 16th century building which had inspired Charles Dickens as a starting point for this novel. I never actually entered the establishment in that incarnation because it was never open when I walked past and I probably couldn’t have fitted into it. Google now tells us that it is a high-end shoe shop.
A parcel arrived from Becky and Ian this morning. It contained a splendid Mother’s Day bouquet with small packet of fudge chocolates. Becky made the vase for Jessica and me when she was an art student at Newark in the early 1990s. The book is one of Becky’s presents to me for Christmas 2020. It lives on the coffee table. Jackie produced this photograph.
Just as I settled down to watch Six Nations rugby this afternoon, we suffered a power cut which meant I missed the first half of the game between Italy and Wales. Jackie decided to go shopping. There was some difficulty for her leaving the house, because
temporary traffic lights were in place to enable the electrical engineers to fix the problem of a line tangled in the conifers central to her picture.
The second rugby match was between England and France. While I watched that
the Assistant Photographer focussed on the sunset which signalled that the gale is over.
This evening we dined on oven haddock and chips, small peas, pickled onions, and gherkins with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Malbec.
An early end to the Test match and rain falling for most of the day prompted me to read eight more chapters of ‘Little Dorrit’, and consequently to scan eight more of Charles Keeping’s excellent illustrations.
‘Mrs Sparkler began to wonder how long the master-mind meant to stay’ is another two page spread.
‘Lying in the bath was the body of a heavily-made man’ sandwiches the text between the ends of the bath.
‘Mr Clennam, I think this is the gentleman I was mentioning’
”Young John surveyed him with a fixed look of indignant reproach’
‘Arthur turned his eye upon the impudent and wicked face’ which we now all recognise.
‘The gate jarred heavily and hopelessly upon her’
‘She staggered for a moment, as if she would have fallen’
For ‘The old house collapsed and fell’, the artist had no need to draw the building – he simply produced the effect.
Late in the afternoon, the sun emerged and drew us into a forest drive.
All along Sowley Lane
shaggy ponies tore at the hedges for sustenance;
colourful cock pheasants played Chicken crossing the road;
and snowdrops scaled the banks of the verges.
The pink-tinged water of the lake now surrounded bordering grasses;
and similar tints touched the puddle reflecting a gate above it.
Sunset. was arriving over St Leonard’s Grange
and lingered slowly for a while on our return journey.
This evening we dined on oven fish and chips; green peas; pickled onions and gherkins, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Garnacha.
The day was still grimly dark by the time we left to deliver Elizabeth a tub of Jackie’s chicken and vegetable stewp. (Interested readers will note that I have changed my spelling from stoup, because stewp is what google recognises and who am I to argue?)
Whenever the vehicle in front of us seems especially slow for no apparent reason, it is quite probable that a cyclist will be pedalling along ahead.
So it was today on School Lane. Even when the towed trailer on the road reached a wide enough section of the narrow winding route to be able to pass safely, the rider pulled more into the centre.
A pleasant young lady riding her pony crossed Pilley Street to open the gate for equine access, closed it again while waving to a van driver, then, with a friendly greeting, entered Burnt House Lane ahead of us.
We found Elizabeth happily working in her garden, enjoyed a short conversation, and set off to track the now almost visible sun towards the setting hour.
Glimmers were seen from Burnt House Lane;
a little lower from Warborne Lane;
Walhampton was blessed with Jesus Beams;
sunset wasn’t far off beyond the silent coastal preservation machinery;
and all but retreated behind the clouds at Barton on Sea.
We had begun our trip following a bicyclist along School Road – on Grove Road, Barton, we tailed a unicyclist who kept well out of our way.
This evening we dined on oven fish and chips and baked beans with which we both drank Marlborough Cabernet Sauvignon 2019.
On a dull and frosty morning Jackie photographed some aspects of the garden.
A perky dragon was garlanded in frosted ivy; the ‘Autumn’ sculpture vied with winter;
euphorbia, cordyline Australis, and rose leaves bore fringes of frost and lingering water drops;
some potted pansies were rather limp, while iris reticulata and tulips broke the soil in defiance.
By the time we drove over to Pilley to present Elizabeth (in our bubble) with a tub of Jackie’s substantial chicken and vegetable stoup, the skies had brightened.
In the woodland alongside Undershore a soft toy had successfully scaled the wall that is the undercarriage of a fallen tree.
The decorated postbox in Pilley Street now bears the year date 2021;
the icy old quarry lake bears branches and reflections.
At Walhampton I photographed a pheasant on the verge and Jackie focussed on a silhouetted wood pigeon;
on Monument Lane while I caught the lowering sun behind trees Jackie picked out its tipping the monument railings.
Finally the Assistant Photographer caught me
focussed on the dying sunset and twilight haze shrouding the Isle of Wight and The Needles at Milford on Sea.
This evening we dined on succulent fillet steaks; crisp oven chips; moist mushrooms; nicely charred onions; cherry vine tomatoes; and a colourful melange of peas and sweetcorn, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2019.
This afternoon we took a crisp sunshine forest drive.
Jackie waited in Brownhills car park while I wandered along the
largely waterlogged roadside verges for a while.
This was a day for family walks. While certain spots were decidedly overcrowded, lesser known areas like Bisterne Close, where Jackie parked the Modus, were safe enough.
I trampled on the waterbeds that were the soggy autumn leaves.
As always, some trees were lichen laden; others stretched gnarled limbs to the skies; many, broken, lay where they fell – among them
basking ponies slumbered or chomped on holly leaves.
One fallen giant gathering foliage was decidedly waterlogged.
Many roadsides, like this one at South Gorley, were more like lakesides.
Nearby, I was soon surrounded by silently demanding donkeys desiring to supplement their diets with anything I might have brought them.
One solitary Gloucester Old Spot sploshed, salivating over squishy mast, at the bottom of Gorley Hill, well irrigated by a Winterbourne stream running down it.
Throwing long shadows, cattle grazed on the slopes above,
while hazy sun picked out inquisitive field horses and slender willow sprays.
On our return along Hordle Lane lingering sunset illuminated lines of leafless oaks.
This evening we dined on crisp oven fish and chips, green peas, sage cornichons, and pale ochre pickled onions, with which we both drank white Cotes de Gascoigne 2019.
This afternoon we joined Elizabeth and Danni at Woodpeckers for a visit to Mum. Pre-Christmas limited four-fold family visits have been arranged by Colten Care.
On arrival we were issued with the usual forms explaining who we are with our temperature recorded. We were also required to sanitise our hands and don face masks, gloves, and aprons. Our own masks, etc. had to be changed for those available at reception. On departure the supplied PPE were disposed of in a bin provided.
Chairs were spread out in the allocated room, ensuring that we kept the correct distances. Teas, coffee, sausage rolls, mince pies, and Christmas cake were brought in for us.
The visit was timed for an hour, but we were given an extra ten minutes.
Jackie photographed the rest of us. The second picture shows Mum nursing our present.
Danni added by e-mail the Assistant Photographer and me, and Mum. The second photograph demonstrates the problem with social distancing which made it difficult for her to see us clearly. In the circumstances this could not be avoided.
Afterwards my Chauffeuse drove me through driving rain to catch the sunset at Barton.
For a while I stayed in the car before battling with gusting winds when the rain ceased.
Jackie captured me near the clifftop where the wind was throwing me about a bit. I was somewhat further from the edge than this perspective suggests, and refrained from picturing the strip just in front of me which was rent by a deep cleft suggesting it will be the next stretch to fall. I just couldn’t be stable enough to risk it;
neither could I get near enough to focus on the very choppy waves,
so I settled for some longer distance sunset shots.
As I walked back to the car a woman came into view with three small children and a dog excitedly running towards her. The pooch, as they do, raced towards the cleft. I called to the woman and warned her. She gathered up her brood and led them further inland.
Yesterday I pictured Jackie’s beef and mushroom pie with unbroken crust.
Today we enjoyed a second helping complete with Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, carrots, and gravy, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Malbec.
