Stand-off

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Sunshine having returned, we took a drive in the forest this morning, and found ourselves centred on Brockenhurst, on the outskirts of which stands

The White Cottage

The White Cottage. I’m no expert, but this looks to me to be a relatively new building in keeping with its bucolic neighbourhood.

St Nicholas's Church Spire

When we last visited St. Nicholas’s Church with Jessie and Guru I concentrated on the New Zealand War Graves, also featured in ‘There Is Some Corner Of An English Churchyard’ which has a close-up of the fern sculpture in the bottom left of this picture.

Gates to St Nicholas's ChurchSt Nicholas's Church

Today I paid more attention to the church itself

Gravestones, St Nicholas Church 1Gravestones St Nicholas's Church 2Gravestones St Nicholas's Church 3Gravestones St Nicholas's Church 4Gravestones St Nicholas's Church 5Gravestones St Nicholas's Church 6Gravestones St Nicholas's Church 7Gravestones St Nicholas's Church 8Gravestones St Nicholas's Church 9

and to its older, tilting, more weathered, gravestones.

http://www.newforestexplorersguide.co.uk/heritage/brockenhurst/parish-church.html tells us this about this historic place of worship:

‘Brockenhurst Parish Church of St. Nicholas is located in beautifully peaceful surroundings just under 0.5 kilometres (1/4 mile) to the south-east of the village centre. It is considered to be the oldest church in the New Forest. Indeed, Brockenhurst is the only New Forest village for which a church was mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086 AD – along here with 6 smallholders and 4 slaves with 2½ ploughs; and woodland at 20 pigs.

An earlier Saxon church was located on the same site as Brockenhurst Parish Church – Saxon herring-bone work can be seen in the south wall of the old Nave – and some consider that there may have also been a pagan temple or Romano-British church here, too, as the mound on which the church sits is thought to be at least part man-made.

Other elements of the current Parish Church structure date back to the 12th century, whilst the tower was added in the 18th century, and now blends well with the timeless surroundings.

This and other alterations were not, however, always so favourably viewed. John Wise, writing in the early 1860s, noted that: ‘The church has been sadly mutilated. A wretched brick tower has been patched on at the west end; and on the north side a new staring red brick aisle, which surpasses even the usual standard of ugliness of a dissenting chapel.’

Wise did go on say, though: ‘If the church, however, has been disfigured, the approach to it fortunately remains in all its beauty. For a piece of quiet English scenery nothing can exceed this. A deep lane, its banks a garden of ferns, its hedge matted with honeysuckle, and woven together with bryony, runs, winding along a side space of green, to the latch gate, guarded by an enormous oak, its limbs now fast decaying, its rough bark grey with the perpetual snow of lichens, and here and there burnished with soft streaks of russet-coloured moss; whilst behind it, in the churchyard, spreads the gloom of a yew, which, from the Conqueror’s day, to this hour, has darkened the graves of generations.’

And most of that remains true to this day, although the old oak tree no longer stands. The churchyard yew was, though, carbon dated in the mid-1980s, and found to be more than 1,000 years old. Its girth was 15 feet in 1793, 17 feet in the early 1860s, 18 feet 4 inches in 1915, and now, at 5 feet from the ground, it is more than 20 feet round.

Richardson, King and Driver on their late-18th century New Forest map show what is now the tarmac road leading to the church from the then turnpike, but give equal prominence to the green lane running north-south on the eastern side of the church.

Maybe in those days both were of similar status, and kept in a similar state of repair. But whatever, the green lane now offers quiet passage to and from the village, away from the small number of cars on the modern road. Overarched by coppiced hazels, and in places a very definite hollow-way with moss-clad banks, the lane in spring is bright with bluebells and pennywort. Here walkers can re-trace the footsteps of church-going travellers from many centuries ago.

Brusher Mills (1840-1905), the celebrated New Forest snake-catcher, is buried in the churchyard – the ornate headstone shows Brusher outside his woodland hut, holding up a tangle of snakes.

Here also can be found the graves of more than one hundred New Zealand, Indian and other soldiers who died in Brockenhurst field hospitals during and immediately after the First World War. An annual service, attended by a representative of the New Zealand High Commission and of the New Zealand Forces, is held on the Sunday next to Anzac Day.’

References:
Domesday Book, Hampshire: General Editor, John Morris
The New Forest: Its History and Scenery: John R. Wise
A Guide to the New Forest: Heywood Sumner
Churches of the New Forest: Barry and Georgina Peckham
Brockenhurst New Forest Hampshire: http://www.brockenhurst-newforest.org.uk/churches.html

Pigs at pannage 1Pigs at pannage 2

Further on Jackie spotted a sounder of swine snuffling after fallen mast.

Ponies and pigs 1Ponies and pigs 2

Suddenly one of the saddlebacks began tearing around the trees out from which trotted three ponies who then stood off, at a safe distance, watching the pigs that had ousted them from their pasturage.

Ponies and saddleback

Eventually the horses gingerly returned, but, occasionally offering an irritated kick, still kept the pigs at leg’s length.

Ponies and pigs 3

Perhaps they were talking about this one. At any rate, its ears were apparently burning.

Pigs at pannage 3Pigs at pannage 4Pigs at pannage 5

The standoff was eventually acceptable to both parties, and we went home to lunch.

Later this afternoon we will set off for Emsworth where we will visit Nicolino’s restaurant for Ian’s birthday meal.

 

 

 

After The Rain 2

On a crisp, bright morning with a cloudless blue sky, we took a drive around the New Forest.

Lacking a leaf canopy, the treetop roof, like our kitchen skylight, leaked onto the forest floor.

Reflections in pool 1Reflections on pool 2Reflections in pool 3Reflections in pool 4Reflections in pools 6Reflections on pool 8Reflections in pool 8

These scenes, photographed at Brownhills near Wootton Heath, were repeated throughout our journey. Branches are traced on the surface of pools reflecting various hues of blue contrasting with the seepage from the reddened soil and the

Forest floor 2

fallen leaves. It was possible to ignore the soggy refuse littered about.

Redlands stones

Redlands house name on stone was also reflected in nature’s mirror.

Ponies generally remain deeper in the forest during heavy rain. Today they were everywhere in the forest and on the heathland.

Ponies 2Ponies 3

On Whitefield Moor two members of a basking group appeared to lack the energy to support the weight of their heads. The most likely explanation is that these creatures, usually pretty scrawny by this time of the year, have been eating as if it were Christmas for some months now.

Pony preening

A giant, preening, swan, upon closer inspection turned out to be an itchy pony

Ponies 1

that tail-twitched off after gaining some relief.

Firs 1

The magnificent upright redwood firs of the Rhinefield arboretum burned in the sunlight.

Cattle on road 1Cattle on road 2Cattle on road 3Cattle on road 4

A group of mud-caked, yellow-tagged, curly haired cattle, as they ambled along the road hugging the wall of a thatched cottage at East Boldre, successfully delayed traffic for a while.

The yellow tags on these creatures’ ears denote ownership by the commoners who are entitled to allow their animals to roam free. I have never seen these beasts released from their byres this early in the year.

This evening we dined at Dynasty in Brockenhurst. I enjoyed a king prawn jalfrezi; Jackie’s choice was paneer chaslick ; we shared an egg paratha, special fried rice, and sag paneer; and both drank Kingfisher.

Every One A Winner

Morning gloriesI photographed on commission this morning.  Jackie would like to make a card depicting a trio of Morning Glories.  She has several plants, but just one produced the required threesome today.

Cottagers Lane in Hordle is a gorgeous tree-lined road, today dappled in the sunlight.  A house we had seen on a website led us there.  Still in the forest, at a pinch this thatched beauty could be affordable.  Our usual external viewing didn’t disappoint. Cottagers Lane house In tip-top condition, with a newly thatched roof, as evidenced by the still golden decoy pheasant up above, this was an attractive prospect, with additional (library) accommodation in the garden.  That side of the road backs onto open fields. Cottagers Lane As I took a selection of photographs, a female group, with horse, and dog in tow, ambled past.

The Frys Lane house in Everton, previously under offer, is back on the market, so we had another look at that too.

Preserves and CakesVegetablesAfter an errant drive back we visited the Minstead Flowers, Fruit, and Vegetables Show at the Village Hall.  According to Oz, whom we met there, the event was a major success, having attracted far more entries than for many years.  Collection of salad vegetablesEvery kind of produce imaginable was carefully and artistically displayed with explanatory labels, some indicating the award of prizes.  We didn’t stay for the presentation of these latter, but there was a vast assembly of silver trophies shinily filling a table on the stage.

When paying our 50p each for admission we were enjoined to assist in the final judging.Floral display  If I understood Steve Cattel correctly this was the selection of some kind of Victor Ludorum for the floral displays.  I suggested getting us to do this was a cop out.  He said it was.  We had to place our ticket in the tumbler of our choice.  Mine had already won first prize as a novice exhibit. There weren’t many other tickets in the cup.

Basket of vegetables etc.Basket of vegetables and eggsAs well as the eponymous flowers, fruit, and vegetables, a table was laid with preserves and cakes to make your mouth water;Eggs another of cracked eggshells alongside their contents; models made by children; and novelties like the weirdest vegetables.  One pair of prize-winning vegetables also looked pretty weird to me.  That is why I photographed the turnips.  As I raised the camera, a hand slid across the image in the viewfinder and was abruptly withdrawn.  Its owner apologised for spoiling the shot.  ‘I didn’t take it’, I said. Two turnips ‘Please put your hand there again.  It will make the picture.  It looks as if you are snaffling the turnips’.Weirdest vegetable  Who knows?  Maybe that is what she had been doing. Dahlias etc. She was happy to humour me, but was inevitably somewhat tentative, and looked a little less like a child grasping for sweets.

I was particularly intrigued by the ‘Tray for a Royal Christening’ displays.  These required baking and flower arranging skills; a suitable choice of tray, china and cutlery; and an artistic presentation.  As Jackie pointed out, the bootees on the winning fairy cakes perhaps influenced the judges’ choice of number one, but they were all noteworthy entries. Tray for a royal christening first prize Tray for a royal christeningPersonally, I think anyone who has the courage to enter such a potentially disappointing competition, relying on the somewhat arbitrary judgement of others, deserves a prize.  Jackie was incensed that the vase of roses she had thought best hadn’t even been placed.  Unfortunately that’s not how life works.

Athletics at school wasn’t my thing.  I always wanted at least a ball, if not a bat, and I was no sprinter or jumper.  And if I were going to be a sweater, I wanted it to be in a game.  We had an annual sports day and everyone was expected to enter three events. I wasn’t going to enter the hundred yards race; and I hadn’t developed my Fosbury flop. What could I do?  Well there was a javelin, a discus, and a shot.  It didn’t seem to require much effort to stand there and chuck them, especially as no-one else fancied their chances and there were never more than three entrants, so I was assured of at least bronze.  I have to admit to being rather dangerous for any peripheral spectators when it came to the javelin.  It would also have helped my points rating had I thrown it straight.

I’m not sure if I mentioned at home that a gold medal gained in the discus one year required less than even my normal desultory effort, for there were no other competitors.

Jackie once went to a show similar to today’s at Minstead.  She admired a cake that had won second prize.  Searching for the winner of the gold, she realised there wasn’t one.  There had only been one entry not adjudged good enough for the prime accolade.  When she told me this I considered myself fortunate that my schoolmasters had not been inclined to take the same stance.

No matter how many entries there had been for tonight’s chicken jalfrezi contest, Jackie, with her delicious offering, would have won hands down.  Any self-respecting Bangladeshi chef would have been proud of it.  Particularly appreciated were the delicate aromas of her pilau rice garnished with toasted almonds.  Although the meal didn’t really need it, I spiced mine up with Naga relish given to me either by Danni or Shelly.  I finished the Ogio merlot, myself.