sunsets – derrickjknight

A Knight’s Tale (134: Kilcullen Would Have Been Too Far Away)

One evening we were given a trip from Port St Charles into the Atlantic Ocean.

Flanked by the lowering sun we then encountered Kilcullen towing New Horizons.

Quite why John Peck and Fraser Dodds, who manned the rowing boat New Horizons, needed the attentions of the support boat at this point, I am not sure, for they are given in the statistics of the Ocean Rowing Society as having completed the race. Kilcullen, you see, is one of a group of vessels deputed to be on hand in case of need by rowers in distress. I understand that, because they tended to stay behind the slowest competitors, these yachts would be a good 500 miles away from the leaders.

Very soon after this, we experienced one of the dramatic gold and indigo sunsets that Sam had enjoyed during his 59 days at sea.

By this time the crew of Kilcullen were relaxing in silhouette.

The next morning a cast of crabs danced the side shuffle on the rocks.

Sam, always having been one of the leaders, told us how the waves could toss his little boat considerable distances through the air.

The purpose built rowing boat was designed to keep upright. Provided. That the windows to the small cabin remained closed.

One morning my son was woken by the hailer of a cargo vessel asking whether he needed assistance. He informed them that he had no need of it. Off they sailed.

Then, out of the blue, the ship turned and sped back towards Pacific Pete.

Just imagine the bow wave. This didn’t send Sam’s boat any distance. Instead it sent it in a circular spin in which it rolled over twice.

Had the windows been open Sam and his boat would have joined his camera on the bed of the ocean into which it had slipped. He didn’t mention this on one of his weekly telephone calls to me.

A Knight’s Tale (132: Awaiting The Arrival)

With about two days to go before Sam’s expected arrival into Port St Charles, excitement was enhanced by

a golden sunset, which is almost a cliché. Not in Port St Charles.

Jessica watches as Louisa shows her photographs to Dixie Dean, the Society’s cameraman.

Birds like the Yellow breasted Sunbury,

and the Barbados Bullfinch, the only indigenous species, which is found nowhere else, take advantage of nature’s camouflage,

as does the land crab.

The grackle

and the sanderling don’t seem to need it.

This gentleman demonstrates the method of releasing milk from a coconut.

For a number of years my friend bo Beolens, who has written a number of bird books and who, as Fatbirder, runs an international birding website used my picture of the Lesser Antillean Bullfinch to illustrate his Barbados page.

Just before the expected arrival time even the previously bright blue Caribbean Sea darkened,

and a rainbow arced over Port St Charles.

I was regularly in touch with Radio Nottingham to deliver live updates from my mobile phone. That night, I opened our balcony doors so that listeners could hear the deafening waves crashing in from the Atlantic. Unknown to me, these were the forces that had caused Sam to drop his anchor to prevent him from arriving during the night.

To The End Of The Day

Before lunch I sent an e-mail scan of the resubmitted probate form to the relevant Government Department; afterwards I posted the form and a covering letter in snail mail.

From Everton Post Office we took a forest drive.

The landscape with horses in rugs alongside Barrows Lane was nicely lit by the late afternoon sun.

The corrugated iron building is in that same lane; the farmhouse and wonky outbuilding in Mead End Road.

Jesus beams burst from lowering clouds onto the tree lines along Burley Road.

A group of donkeys outside Brockenhurst, chomping on thorny shrubs near where Jack parked the Modus gradually transferred from one side of the entrance drive to the other to try their luck from our vehicle, especially as I had disembarked to photograph them and

the ponies on the other side of the road.

Soon it was time to head back to the pharmacy at Milford on Sea to collect medication then take in

the beginnings of golden sunset tinting the foamy waves, the spray rising from the rocks, and the sturdy wooden breakwaters.

Then on to Barton on Sea as the sun was sinking and walkers watched this phenomenon or turned away from it.

This evening we dined on lefties from Saturday’s Chinese Take Away, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of Hardy’s Crest.

A Very Thoughtful Gift

As Jessie left this morning to return home to Primrose Hill, Jackie and I drove to Elizabeth’s to wait for a Parcel Force delivery while she kept a hospital appointment.

We took a minor diversion through the forest on our way home.

Groups of pigs from the verges and the greens of Pilley converged on the sward carpeted with silver birch catkins which they crunched with the delight of a child chomping on his Rice Crispies breakfast cereal.

A llama pricked up its ears as I approached its field at East End, where

donkeys dawdled up the road, pausing to sample prickles along the way.

While at Elizabeth’s I read more of ‘Our Mutual Friend’ and this afternoon scanned three more of Charles Keeping’s inimitable illustrations.

‘The train rattled among the hose-tops’ gave the artist scope to display his perspective skills.

‘They began driving among low-lying water-side wharves and docks’

‘Bella and Mrs Boffin took a good long look and one another’

Before dinner we drove out to Hatchet Pond in order to Photograph the sunset.

During the afternoon Jackie received, delivered by Amazon, a very generous gift from Jessie, who had enjoyed the solar lights.

As soon as we arrived home she dashed out to plant and photograph the treasure. Thank you very much, Jessie.

This evening we reprised yesterday’s roast dinner with similar beverages.

Late Afternoon

The 106 m.p.h. wind that ripped through The Needles overnight howled around our house and garden.

Numerous plant pots were blown down;

tables and the new pig hit the deck;

owls were knocked off their perches;

broken branches and scattered trugs tossed around;

an arch bent and a rose dislodged. I had the sun in my eyes when the rose accosted me and pierced both my head and my jacket.

Late this afternoon we drove to Milford on Sea watching wild waves whipping up spray, lashing wooden breakwaters and wetting glistening rocks. Gulls swooped overhead; numerous walkers braced the bitterly cold wind. One group descended the slippery shingle, then attempted to avoid the rippling waves licking their feet. One young lady had forgotten to cover her legs.

It was hardly surprising that no-one sat at the picnic tables of the Needles Eye Cafe standing in reflecting pools.

My fingers tingled enough to send me back into the car while I waited for the sunset.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s post-Christmas soup with crusty bread followed by gooseberry and apple crumble with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Montaria.

Somewhat Disconcerting

With paintbrush and roller, after replenishing some of yesterday’s filling, Nick brought light into our sitting room.

Particularly evident was how he has brightened the ceiling;

the walls also glow.

Unfortunately, with the windows open, a number of wasps buzzed around our decorator’s ears. This was more than somewhat disconcerting, so we supplied him with a fly swat and a spray can containing gas lethal to these creatures.

I read another sizeable chunk of “Eyeless in Gaza”

Late this afternoon we visited Milford Supplies to purchase a new starter for the strip light in the library, then drove on to catch

the sunset at Mudeford harbour.

Other photographers, including the couple on the bench and the woman watched by her faithful hound, had the same idea.

Gulls, as always, reflected on the the calm water in the fading light.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy lamb jalfrezi and cream coloured haldi rice with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Faugeres.

The Reader

After a little clearance work in the garden I spent much of the day finishing reading

This is Penguin Books 1948 edition of Huxley’s novel first published in 1923. Today’s seven and a half pence is the current coin equivalent of the purchase price of one shilling and sixpence. We could, in 1948 have bought six of De Marco’s 3d ice creams mentioned in https://derrickjknight.com/2012/05/29/the-bees/ for that money.

At that time Penguin books were bound with stitching which must be one reason why this copy remains intact.

Huxley’s novel, allegedly comic, is to my mind a tragic farce focussing on London’s post WW1 promiscuous Bohemian intellectuals. His second work of fiction contains his usual exploration of ideas and includes a number of devices such as the dialogue of a musical play within the story. The writing is as fluid as ever although terms like ‘blackamoors’ and ‘nigger mask’ for a band of musicians and a piece of carving, albeit not meant in a derogatory sense, grate on modern ears.

Regular readers will know of my penchant for leaving bookmarks in my own copies for posterity to find within the pages. Sometime before the mid 1960s someone has beaten me to it

with this compliments slip, from perhaps Joan, who might have been trying to get her pen to work by scribbling as I sometimes do in order to make the ink flow. The telephone number is the key. Before the 1950s very few people had telephones and the early exchanges were operated manually by banks of usually female staff who connected callers to the required recipient. As in the number on this slip the areas were identified by the first letters of the location followed by four digits. All-digit numbers were introduced in the early 1960s, when the TEM of Temple Bar became 836. Later still London numbers were, in two stages, further divided to begin 0207 (inner) or 0208 (outer).

Watching me reading, and correctly assuming that this would all appear on today’s blog post, Jackie decided to make her own contribution in the forms of

her photograph of me and this Father’s Day card Becky sent me some years ago.

Shortly before sunset we drove to Barton on Sea to have a look at it. These are my photographs;

and here are Jackie’s,

with a couple of me.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy paprika pork, tender runner beans, and boiled new potatoes, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Médoc.

Lunch At Steff’s Kitchen

Late this morning Jackie drove us to Fairweather’s Garden Centre in Beaulieu where we met Danni, Andy, Ella, and Elizabeth for lunch in Steff’s Kitchen.

The various trees in pools on the road from Brockenhurst were thoroughly irrigated.

Beaulieu Lake was also very full, to the satisfaction of the numerous swans.

Ella enjoyed playing games with her Dad, in particular practising her pointing,

which she also did with me.

We exchanged Christmas presents which, had we been well enough, was planned to have taken place on New Year’s Day. Later, Danni e-mailed photographs of our great niece playing with the one we had given her. I will publish those tomorrow.

Even when Ella had pinched a chip from Andy she worked hard to place it in her bowl before eating it.

Elizabeth and I both chose roast beef dinners; Jackie selected soup and a sandwich; Andy chose something and chips;

Danni enjoyed a potato tortilla.

Ginormous cakes, carrot for Danni,

and Victoria sponge for Jackie, needed to be shared out a bit.

Danni gave Elizabeth a taste of hers,

some of which found its way to Ella’s cheeks.

I was treated to more of this, and to half of Jackie’s.

After a tour round the well stocked shop we all drove to Elizabeth’s for another hour or so of enjoyable conversation.

As we drove along Lyndhurst Road out of Beaulieu,

a bright sun was making determined efforts to climb above scudding clouds.

There are a considerable number of Shetland ponies about at the moment. I counted eighteen along Pilley Street grazing n the green.

As I wandered among them, they took to the road

in order to sample fresh fodder further along.

It was close to sunset when we arrived home, so we drove on to

Barton on Sea to witness it.

This evening we dined on sandwiches and salad. Mine was ham and Jackie’s was peanut butter.

It Has To Go

As she toured the garden this morning Jackie was struck by the contrast between the number of survivors from spring and summer still blooming –

including clematis Niobe;

fuchsias Delta’s Sarah

and Mrs. Popple;

hebes;

hot lips;

bidens;

pelargoniums;

pansies;

campanulas;

and roses in the Rose Garden –

and the harbingers of spring to come, such as the budding rhododendrons;

the new shoots of Michaelmas daisies;

and the burgeoning mimuluses.

One of Aaron’s tasks was to clear dragons, hanging baskets, and other vulnerable artefacts from beneath the

rather brittle cypress that continually sheds dead branches and therefore has to go. It will be removed later in the week.

As we were planning to venture into the forest this afternoon the skies darkened, the previously still air produced gusts of more than fifty miles an hour, torrential rains fell, and the birds left the front garden feeders. Within half an hour tranquility returned.

Blue tits returned to the suet balls.This bird tried to masquerade as one;

and Ron, as we have named the front garden robin, was able to head for his seed feeder before the sparrows returned to dispossess him. It is almost impossible to distinguish between male and female robins. Should Ron turn out to be a female I guess she will be a Ronette. https://youtu.be/FXlsWB1UMcE

We then did drive into to forest.

Ponies at Norleywood had calmly weathered the storm that had added to

the pool at the corner of St. Leonards Road,

along which, like cannon-shot, clouds sped across the sky,

against which oak tree branches groped gnarled fingers.

It was not yet sunset when we passed St Leonards Grange and the ruins of its ancient grain barn.

Another winterbourne pool on which oak leaves floated reflected the tree limbs and trunks;

a cheerful young girl running down the road was overtaken by a passing car;

and a pheasant was framed by a Star of David.

We drove on past Bucklers Hard, then retuned along St Leonards Road to catch

sunset both at the Grange

and a little further along the road.

This evening we dined on fish pie with Jackie’s succulent ratatouille; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; and tender cabbage, with which we both drank Barefoot Sauvignon Blanc 2016.

Golden Globe Descending

After lunch I watched recorded highlights of yesterday’s international rugby match between England and Australia. I then prised Jackie from her greenhouse so she could take me for a drive in the forest.

“Look, Derrick”, she announced, indicating a plant on this sunny but cold afternoon, “it’s a little chilly in the garden”.

Many moorland trees have now lost most of their leaves.

Whitemoor Pond, near Brockenhurst, is one of those many normal waterlogged areas of the New Forest that has been bone dry for most of this year,

In recent days it has filled up again, which is good news for ducks, specifically a happy paddle of mallards.

From there we motored on to Burley, where, at the busy crossroads outside The Burley Inn

a suckling foal caused great delight among the youngest visitors

who failed to notice the other pony ambling amongst the traffic.

It is not that unusual to see a grey mare with a black foal.

Approaching sunset we enjoyed the pastel skies beyond Picket Post,

then sped back to Burley to watch the golden globe descending.

This evening Jacqueline joined us for dinner before returning to stay with Mum. Jackie produced a superb starter of hot and spicy vegetable soup with homemade croutons followed by classic cottage pie served with crisp carrots, cauliflower, and runner beans. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden while Elizabeth and I finished the Brouilly.