This afternoon Jackie drove us all to Helen and Bill’s at Fordingbridge where we enjoyed introducing Dillon to his aunt by marriage, and a little later to John who had called in on his mother.
Later we dined at The Lamb Inn in Nomansland.
As Dillon explained, a trio of Guinea Fowl were occupied in clearing ticks from the green in front of the pub.
In the pub garden Jackie and Flo chose well-filled burgers, chips, and slaw for their main meal, followed by Eton mess and Brownie with ice cream respectively; Dillon and I both selected succulent steak and ale pie with very flavoursome carrots and cauliflower, and tender garden peas. Jackie and Dillon both drank Inch’s medium cider, Flo drank J2O, and I drank Doom Bar.
Yesterday evening we met Elizabeth and Danni inside The Lamb Inn at Nomansland for our first permitted meal together since the months long Covid lockdown.
Jackie’s photograph of Danni arriving shows that masks had to be worn on entry and walking about, but could be removed while seated.
Three of us chose chicken, ham, and leek pie meals. Jackie was the exception who selected a burger meal. Danni, who produced the last two pictures in this gallery, my sister, and I drank a very good Mendoza Malbec, while Jackie drank Amstel. Actually, Danni’s wine was a chaser for her Diet Coke. For dessert Jackie chose strawberry sundae; Danni, lemon meringue pie; and I summer fruits pudding. Elizabeth finished with decaffeinated coffee. The fare was all very good, and the service attentive an efficient.
Our niece’s shot of Jackie and me includes a pony on the green outside.
I guess I must have been perusing the menu in these two photographs Jackie took of Elizabeth and me. These pictures were all produced early in the evening. The pub filled up a bit afterwards.
This afternoon I scanned six more of Charles Keeping’s illustrations to “Nicholas Nickleby”.
‘The small unfortunate was looking on with a singed head and a frightened face’
An example of the artist’s double page spread is ‘Nicholas found the four Miss Kenwigses on their form of audience, and the baby in a dwarf porter’s chair’
‘A short, bustling, over-dressed female, full of importance, presented herself’
‘The young lady, then and there kissed the old lord’. Note the hands in this one.
‘The easy insolence of their manner towards herself brought the blood tingling to Kate’s face’
‘Miss La Creevey found Mrs Nickleby in tears, and Ralph just concluding his statement of his nephew’s misdemeanours’
Later this afternoon Jackie felt the need to buy an owl, so we visited Shallowmead Nurseries, where she was recognised as “the owl lady”, to do just that.
Passing the crochet decorated post box, now sporting a rainbow hope, on Pilley Hill, we proceeded to
record this week’s views from one side to the other of Pilley’s receding lake. The first shot shows the spread of the water crowfoots, and the second the increased reflected foliage.
The dried detritus indicates that I was still able to walk across from one side to the other.
I enjoyed a pleasant conversation with people living in the corner house the reflection of which I have often photographed over the years. While I was being informed that a few days ago a small pool had been dry,
Jackie pictured a “shark” in occupation.
A small group of ponies at East Boldre wandered along the road in order to take a drink from a stream flanking soggy terrain.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s succulent beef pie; creamy mashed potatoes; firm carrots and cauliflower; spicy ratatouille; and meaty gravy, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of our Malbec.
Although steady rain returned this afternoon, this morning’s weather was bright and sunny, so we, wisely as it turned out, paid attention to the forecast and took a forest drive.
Tanners Lane, down which, as so often, we encountered ponies on our way to the beach has been impossible to negotiate during the tourist season. What with that and Covid we have not visited this for six months or so.
This barrier log is one means residents employ of deterring parking across their entrances or on their verges.
A solitary trio of walkers enjoyed the beach, so close to the Isle of Wight.
The incoming tide whisked foam bubbles which, like outsize frogspawn clusters, clung to floating seaweed binding the moistened rocks.
After having been dry for several months the pool outside St Leonards Grange, thanks to three days of almost continual rain, is now full again, and most of the members of the local equine tribe are back in their element enjoying weed soup, while one
favoured drier fodder on a bank beneath a spreading oak.
This evening we dined at The Lamb Inn at Nomansland, approaching which Jackie photographed me; also her main course of an excellent beef burger and mine of an equally good steak and ale pie with roasted carrots and parsnips. Each was served with a bucket of chips. Our respective desserts were perfect moist chocolate fudge cake and Bakewell tart of similar quality, each with ice cream. My wife drank Carlsberg and I drank Doom Bar.
Jackie and I began the day by driving Matthew to Nomansland to show him Lyburn Cottage. We wandered around the green on the edge of the forest before having a drink in The Lamb Inn. A cricket pitch is chained off on this edge of the forest. Keeping the outfield grass down is clearly taken care of by the ponies. Also on the site is a war memorial such as I have never seen before. Not only are the names of those who died in the first and second world wars listed, but also those who served. Those men who did not have to make the ultimate sacrifice, which was often a matter of luck, but took the risk, are also remembered. On the edge of the green stands a rather dilapidated red telephone box. It carries a plea:
The organisation responsible for this is attempting to rescue these largely obsolete symbols of England. They have, for example those at Oak Tree Farm, occasionally featured in my posts. I read on Daniel and Claire’s Walking Blog that a local group at Emery Down bought their box from BT for £1.
Someone has left a saw on the floor of the Nomansland box. I have seen worse objects deposited in such places.
Before taking Matthew back to Becky, Flo and Ian’s new home we had drinks in The Lamb. Jackie had coffee; I drank Doom Bar; and Matthew was given a very charming tea tray with his chosen beverage. It contained a dinky little antique milk jug which was, to the embarrassment of the staff, empty. This was soon rectified. We had a chance to ogle the food of those who were eating. This confirmed our view that this is really the best pub for food that we have sampled locally.
At the new flat Jackie and I, guided and assisted by Flo, assembled the family’s sofa bed. We couldn’t get the telly to work. From 27 North Road, Emsworth we all walked to the Driftwood Cafe where we were served the most splendid soups with chunks of fresh bread and tasty butter; plentifully filled sandwiches served with salad and crisps; and homemade cakes, one slice of which was the equivalent of a whole cake elsewhere. Flo had recovered enough to join us, but couldn’t eat all her huge cube of bread pudding. Our server happily provided a box in which to take the rest home.
Thus temporarily satisfied we made our way, in pouring rain, back home. Jackie’s scrambled egg on toast was a feast later on.
