village shop – derrickjknight

Poppy’s Baptism

This morning we took the remnants of the wheelbarrows photographed yesterday to the Efford Recycling Centre. As usual, we returned with more than we dumped. Today’s haul was two sets of wrought iron gates, a lawn aerator, and a mirror. Can anyone guess what the gates are for?

This afternoon Jackie drove us to Mat and Tess’s home in Upper Dicker for Poppy’s Baptism. We gathered with other relatives in their flat above the village shop, then went outside for group photographs on the village green, before proceeding to Holy Trinity Parish Church for the ceremony. Naturally the infant in whose honour we had assembled had a good cry, thus delaying the making of pleasant photographs. Many local friends turned out for the occasion.

In the group photo above, Tess’s sister in law, Kate and her husband Chris are to our left of Matthew, Jackie peers round Tess’s mother Claire, and Jo, one of the godparents stands on our right.

It is not often that an Anglican Christening is begun by a guitar-playing vicar leading the singing of Amazing Grace, but that is what the reverend David Farey gave us today. When he performed the baptism he was compelled to raise his voice to combat Poppy’s yelling.

Back at the shop we enjoyed Tess’s usual high standard of catering. We were given pizzas, sausage rolls, quiches, crisps, and a deliciously moist iced fruit cake made by Tess’s mother Claire, who had come from New Zealand to help out for a while. She had also made Poppy’s silk dress.

Tess led the toasts, and we all enjoyed conversation for a hour or so.

Our return journey was hampered by the A27 being closed in two places, necessitating long diversions. Our ex coach driver friend, Barrie, had provided us with a very entertaining CD offering a pretty route to Upper Dicker, but as this would take us up to two hours longer to make the journey, we didn’t try it today, although it is possible that our diversions overlapped with some of it.

Frith’s Postcards

It is quite a pleasant stage we have reached in the garden project. We are able to tackle tasks in tandem, rather than each being occupied at different ones. Thus, we did some planting together, notably the agapanthuses purchased a day or two ago. This involved digging through what felt like ironstone, moving other plants to make room for it, and transporting better soil from elsewhere.

Similarly, to enable me to border the shady path with granite sets, a couple of clumps of trespassing geraniums were dug out and offered alternative accommodation. The sets were required because the line of edge tiles petered out near the decking. There is no one material used throughout the garden, so it is quite fun to make a patchwork quilt with what is available.

We fine-tuned the end of the head gardener’s path as it winds around the fir tree, and, bit by bit, as the day progressed set the slabs firmly in their bed of stony soil. There then ensued a search around the garden for stones with which to fill the fissures that create the curves winding through the inchoate shrubbery. It must be sod’s law that when you are digging a bed you find loads of them, but when you want some they are hard to come by.

When we moved in here we found on the orange-painted home-made mantelpiece, a welcoming note and a tiny framed black and white photograph. The image measures 11 x 7.5 centimetres. It is picture of our house as it was, we estimate, in the 1960s. Then it was the village shop. One set of chimneys has since been removed, and we have a garage extension. A bay at the front has replaced the shop front. The current view from the rear displays, centrally, our kitchen extension with its skylight. To the left of this was originally a pitched roof. To the right of the modern picture can be seen the more recent roof over our master suite.

We were intrigued to learn what were the signs standing at the front and the legend on the side of the house, but these were indiscernible to the naked eye, and a magnifying glass didn’t help. I removed the picture from its frame, and discovered it was a Frith’s postcard. I then enlarged the image and was able to read:

Notices in the forecourt announced that the shop was open, and sold Players cigarettes and Lyons cakes. The Players Please board was on display in London’s Lime Street in August 1963. The story of the tobacco company was told on November 27th 2013.

Francis Frith was a pioneering mid-to-late-Victorian photographer who founded the postcard company in the 1850s. There is now a massive archive which is a fascinating collection of UK views. Although Frith died in 1898, his company lived on, with the occasional hiatus. The archives were bought from Rothman’s by John Buck in 1977, and continue to function as the Francis Frith Collection.

Interestingly, Frith’s places us in Lymington Road. Local maps, for example the one outside New Milton railway station, vary as to whether we are in Christchurch Road or Lymington Road. The modern Post Office gives our address as Christchurch Road. Where one merges into the other remains a mystery.

This evening we dined on a refreshing salad based on pork pie and pastrami. I drank half a glass of Cotes du Rhone Villages 2012 and Jackie had a few sips of her Hoegaarden. We then drove down to the beach and bagged a few stones to supplement those in the path completed today.

The Rose

Becky and Ian were today due to view a house to rent in Oving in West Sussex. After an early lunch Jackie and I drove out there to surprise them with our moral support. We arrived half an hour before the appointment time. Jackie waited in the car whilst I had a wander around Oving, a pretty village surrounded by cornfields.

I discovered that the village shop constituted a bar of The Gribble Inn. After the viewing we repaired to the inn where we whiled away the rest of the afternoon discussing the pros and cons of the property. It was a big plus that this was the only place so far where Scooby, their dog, would be acceptable. The couple will sleep on the decision about whether they will get to sleep inside the house.

The weather was still hot enough to keep us inside the pub. From the windows we could could see the very pleasant garden and outside seating area. They specialised in those beers inviting drunken Spoonerisms, like Plucking Pheasant and Fuzzy Duck. The locals were disgusted when I showed a distinct lack of inebriation when ordering the Pheasant which wasn’t available anyway.

Just in time for their opening, we drove in convoy to The Magna restaurant in Bognor Regis. We parked in a side street where we were rather amused by what seemed to be a blatant disregard for a set of No Parking notices, two of which were propped up against the offending vehicle. Although it was once a regular venue of Jackie’s, I have only been to the Magna a couple of times before. Our first arrival had caused us some confusion in trying to locate it. This is because she was convinced it was called The Rose. When she was given a complimentary red rose at the end of the meal she realised the reason for the misnomer. Two years on from our last visit, she and Becky were given the customary red roses.

The meal was good. Cobra, Bangla, and Diet Coke were drunk. I slept through most of the journey home. Fortunately Jackie stayed awake.