The Village Shop – derrickjknight

Carols On The Green

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. CLUSTERS ACCESS GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

Tomorrow fibre optic broadband is due to be installed. During recent weeks I have not bored either my readers or myself with details of the continuing struggles I have been engaged on in uploading my photographs to WordPress, save to mention that I spent much of today in grappling with yesterday evening’s images.

As previously mentioned, Ian collected Jackie and me after lunch yesterday, and drove us to Emsworth to join up with Becky for us to drive in convoy to Upper Dicker. Ian then drove me, and Becky drove Jackie.

We left in good time, which was fortuitous, because the journey, already very slow, came to a virtual standstill on the Eastbourne stretch of the A27. Eventually the flashing blue lights of ambulance and police car betrayed that an accident was the cause. It was very dark, rain spattered the windscreen, and Ian and I stared at what we could see of our respective partners’ rears.

Happily, we arrived just in time for the start of what was intended to be carols on the village green. In the event it was so wet and muddy, that most people congregated around the front of The Village Shop. It seemed as if the entire population of Upper Dicker including the full complement of St Bede’s school, was in attendance. The snowflakes effect was the happy result of the camera’s flash fixing on the raindrops. Large umbrellas were much in evidence.

Inside the shop plentiful mulled wine and variations on minced pies were on offer.

Didi, the shop chef, made a splendidly engaging Santa Claus in his grotto that was the garage store room. The story of how we acquired the pictured reindeer is told in ‘Surprise’.

During the singing Poppy perched on her mother’s arm, as Tess mingled with her guests. When it came to seating her on Santa’s lap, our granddaughter, showing sensitive discernment, produced very rare signs of distress. Fortunately a little friend was on hand to wipe away the tears and help the toddler open her present.

After the event, Becky stayed at Upper Dicker and Ian drove Jackie and me all the way home and stayed the night, returning to Emsworth after lunch.

When Jackie visited Hordle Chinese Take Away for our dinner this evening, Mr Chatty Man Chan was collecting his boys from a pantomime in which they had participated. His wife therefore served her. We. as usual, enjoyed the food, but neither of us imbibed.

Stymied By The System or The Failed Migration

Another young woman at O2 had the doubtful pleasure, early this morning, of being the seventh person I have spoken to about the ongoing ‘farce’. Without going into too much boring detail, especially of the music I listened to whilst on hold, I can report that the culprit department has been identified, and the problem should be resolved in 24 hours. I said I was going on a two hour journey and would be camping in an O2 office if it was not resolved by the time I reached my destination.

Our destination was Mat, Tess, and Poppy’s home in Upper Dicker.

En route we noticed that a pink magnolia, that blends so well with the blue wash on the wall of the elegant Georgian terraced house to which it belongs, is burgeoning. We always enjoy it when we are stopped at traffic lights on leaving Lymington.

The phone problem was not resolved when we arrived at The Village Shop, so we spent a little time in the flat with Mat and Poppy then repaired to the cafe for massive reinforcing fry ups, for we were going camping and might be some time.

The walls are adorned with the paintings that Jessica and Imogen executed there on New Year’s Day.

Suitably fed, Jackie drove me to O2 at the Arndale Centre in Eastbourne. We were to spend the next two hours there.

First we had to find our way to the centre car park. Road works by the station didn’t help matters, but eventually we parked on level 1 and made our way into the shopping mall. The views over the rooftops of this large seaside town were fascinating.

The stores location information was actually very helpful and we were soon at the mobile phone outlet where I was immediately assisted by a young woman who identified the problem, made phone calls, and set the correct procedure in process. She did, however, tell me that implementation could take up to 48 hours and there was nothing she could do about it. Like me, and the telephone advisors she was, as I said, stymied by the system.

I am sure everyone would agree that having a diagnosis for a mystery ailment is, in itself, quite healing. Today’s advisor pronounced that my phone was suffering from a Failed Migration, apparently a very rare event. This has meant that a different, random, number has been transferred to my phone and is currently listed to me, not to another person who has a similar name. Assuming she is right, and her treatment correct, it may be cured in a couple of days. In the meantime, if yours is one of the many contact numbers I have lost and you do wish to remain in touch, I would appreciate it if you would send me an e-mail with the details. Thank you.

There wasn’t much point in occupying the shop overnight, so we returned to Upper Dicker to spend some more time with the family before returning home. On my final check this evening, I found a text message asking me to complete a questionnaire about how satisfied I was with the service I received when I contacted O2 yesterday. I don’t think I need detail my responses. A final text assured me that my views were important to the company and would help them to improve their service. It is hard to see how.

After our earlier slap-up meal, I needed nothing more this evening.

Young Artists

Our 212 mile round trip to Mat and Tess’s home in Upper Dicker gave Jackie and me a whole new slant on driving rain.

We were there to celebrate New Years Day with them, with Poppy; and with Louisa, Errol, Jessica, and Imogen. The families were gathered in the Village Shop where we enjoyed Tess’s meal of glazed ham, roast potatoes various salads, and red cabbage, followed by a dessert of Christmas pudding, ice cream, and brownies. My beverage was malbec. No further nourishment was required after we returned home.

The door was locked, but several hopeful customers peered in the windows until they realised we were having a private function.

Within seconds, the two little girls were jumping up and down trying to give us our Christmas present. A general distribution ensued.

When we sat down to eat Jessica and Imogen disappeared behind their easel and canvas kits we had given them. They can be glimpsed at the far end of this picture which, along with others shows something about the evocative atmosphere of the cafe area.

Jessica painted the still life to her right,

and Imogen the dining table with decorations above.

Poppy tried out most of the other available presents. Here she is watched by Imogen.

Dessert

was served by the girls, who will be attending to paying customers at breakfast tomorrow.

A Mirror Image

In erecting a climbing frame for the juvenile roses, Aaron completed his invaluable contribution to their playground. The top bar was the stair rail; the posts had been found lying about in the undergrowth; we bought the retaining spikes. Jackie couldn’t wait to plant the Aloha. Jackie drove us to Mat and Tess’s new home in Upper Dicker, for lunch. Becky and Ian arrived before us. August in our popular holiday area meant that the journey took three hours. After enjoying a splendid lunch and spending a most enjoyable family afternoon together, the return journey occupied half an hour less. Our son and his wife are in the process of buying The Village Shop, which I have featured several times, the spacious flat above it, and a two story outbuilding. Tess has been running this shop for some years now. This surprisingly spacious building, approximately 350 years old, is steeped in history, and full of character. We lunched on the garden table. As always, Tess catered admirably, providing an array of salads to accompany Mat’s proficient barbecuing of sausages and lamb chops. Various beverages were also consumed, and excellent coffee accompanied the DIY desserts.

The DIY aspect of this was to assemble your own selection from the choices on offer.

We were rather plagued with wasps. These fearsome little creatures swarmed over the table, some drowning themselves in the beer and wine, others escaping from the glasses.

Occasionally those we fished out of our drinks would shake themselves dry and crawl off in staggered zigzags.

Sunlight played tricks, making me think I was seeing one of the insects reflected on my napkin.

With the addition of nectarine juices to traces of wine, my lips became increasingly attractive to the vespas. I am firmly of the opinion that if you don’t disturb wasps, they won’t sting you. Therefore, when they choose to crawl on me, I leave them to it, grit my teeth, try not to emit the smell of fear, and hope for the best. Having two of them trample across your bottom lip, tests your resolve to the limit.

So it was today. I was reasonably courageous until I began to feel a pricking sensation. I wasn’t being stung, but it was getting a little uncomfortable. I eventually realised that one of the creatures was drilling into my lip in search of the source of the tempting juices. At that point I welcomed the attentions of Matthew and Jackie and their wafted serviettes.

Mat and Tess borrowed Scooby for a family photograph

that turned out to be almost a mirror image of one of Mat and Becky taken in Soho in May 1975.

Behind Mat and Tess is their additional building.

Michael Fish

I’m having a bit of fun looking back over the last eighteen months of blogging, and adding where appropriate some older photographs to the posts. Today I went back thirty years in my archives add added three to ‘Reminiscing With Don’ of last August.

Albeit extremely blustery, it was a beautiful autumn day as we set out on a journey the Met Office had warned everyone against. Leaves scampered across the sky like swifts riding thermals. Indeed, as we drove to Mat and Tess’s we saw a number of birds seemingly doing just that. When reading BBC News Jackie came across advice to ‘keep away from trees’. She thought that given where we live that might be rather difficult. Michael Fish was interviewed yesterday predicting that the current gales would not be as devastating as those of 1987. Someone in charge was having a laugh. Mr. Fish, you see, is probably the best, indeed, for most people the only, known weather announcer of all time. He famously broadcast a reassurance, in 1987, that the rumoured storm would not happen. It did. So if anything was likely to confirm fears of tonight’s tempest it would be putting Michael Fish on air to refute it.

Trees were already bending beside the A27, their foliage tapping on our windscreen seeking shelter within. As the leaves rushed towards us they reminded me of the one scene in the 3D version of James Cameron’s ‘Avatar’ that made me flinch. Boulders came flying out of the screen straight at the audience’s heads.

We were not to be deterred from our trip which was a belated birthday celebration for our daughter in law. Jackie took a delicious apple and apricot crumble to follow Tess’s superb roast pork; roast potatoes, carrots, and parsnips; Dauphinoise potatoes; leek and cabbage compote; apple sauce; and dark red wine gravy. Red wines by Tess and me and various beers by Jackie and Matthew were consumed. Tess liked the presents we had bought yesterday.

After the meal we had coffee in The Village Shop so that we could see the new counter layout. Every time we go the establishment seems even more inviting and attractive than the last.

The clocks were turned back an hour at two o’clock this morning, the end of British Summer Time. This meant that it was already dark at 6 pm. when we set off back home. Dark, wet, and windy. At times the windscreen wipers could barely cope with the water that was thrown at it. Rain hammered down directly into it, splashed up on impact with the roads, and formed a fine spray spinning from the wheels of other cars. I don’t know how Jackie managed in the driving seat, but I found the wipers mesmerising as I seemed to be peering through a Jackson Pollock painting on glass. The halo effect around traffic lights and car headlamps and taillights, coupled with the sparkling bits of twig cracking on the car gave the impression that November 5th was already upon us.

In fairness to Michael Fish, the gales, as I write have not reached the force of that October night 26 years ago.