walkers – Page 11 – derrickjknight

The Stone Face

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This afternoon Jackie drove me to Hengistbury Head, where she drank coffee and I explored the scene.

En route to the beach, I passed the top of the hill, where walkers could be seen, to my left,

and observed silhouetted figures against the sea and skyline.

There was a new angle on the Isle of Wight and The Needles.

Walkers accompanied their dogs along the beach,

where a group did their best to dodge the advancing tide.

A gentleman contemplated the scene, and walked down the shingle to join them.

Eventually I did the same, and watched the sea slap the flanks of the rocks,

receding, sliding, slipping over the glistening, tinkling, shingle, and sucking at the seeping sand.

Soon the rolling waves came roaring in

and I walked back up to the footpath, passing a stone face, mouth open, ready to drink from the spume that would hopefully reach it.

I watched walkers ascending the hill which had once been home to Stone Age people (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hengistbury_Head)

Below, others were returning along the beach where

a pair of swans I had seen earlier still floated on the water.

We continued on to Boscombe where the pier was set against the sunbeams lighting the sea,

before returning home to a meal of fish cakes in lemon and parsley sauce, with boiled potatoes, carrots, cauliflower and broccoli, followed by bread and butter pudding. We finished the sauvignon blanc.

Caught In The Rain

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This morning we took a drive into the forest.

It was not long before the first of the day’s many showers set the burnished bracken sparkling.

We were even treated to a partial rainbow forcing its way through the indigo clouds.

Deep in the valley a string of walkers passed a solitary house,

while far off, optimistic smoke curled upwards to merge into the ether.

A grazing pony fixed me with a quizzical stare, then continued with the business in hand,

until, sensing the precipitation that was about to send me back to the car, it wandered off and crossed a path to take shelter under a tree.

It was then that I heard voices floating across the bracken.

They belonged to another group of walkers upon whom the rainbow had cast all the colours of the spectrum.

The rain really hammered on the car as we drove back though the forest passing walkers and cyclists also caught in it.

This evening we dined on roast lamb, potatoes and parsnip; crunchy carrots, cabbage and runner beans; divine gravy, and mint sauce; followed by bread and butter pudding souffle. I drank Almocreve Alentejano reserva 2014.

Making The Most Of Milford Seafront

This morning I accompanied Jackie to the GP surgery where she was prescribed antibiotics for what is now a chest infection. Afterwards, she drove us to the car park alongside the

Needles Eye cafe where she sat with a coffee whilst

I ambled along the upper and lower promenades.

The fog warning sounded as I took this hazy picture of the Isle of Wight and The Needles, after which the cafe has been wittily named.

This gentleman was perhaps searching for a sight of the island whilst his bored best friend was suggesting it was a waste of time.

A group of energetic retirees strode out, past the barriers that border the lower promenade where concrete huts once stood.

Should they be taken short, a state of the art Public Convenience ushers in the prospective

rebuilding of the, now removed, damaged beach huts.

Throughout the day, Paul and I continued exchanging material for the forthcoming The First Gallery exhibition and flyer.

This evening we dined on Mr Pink’s, fish, chips, and pea fritters. Nothing was imbibed.

Silhouettes

It is not that unusual for readers seeking contacts or history to stumble across this blog and, through comments, to ask me for information. Yesterday there were two. One man sought a contact with Trinity (Battersea) now Trinity (Oxley) Cricket Club. I, and two others responded. A second person, a woman, wondered whether Jackie’s sister, Helen, was someone she had trained with in the 1960s. I put them in touch with each other. Such is the power of WordPress.

Today, definitely presaging Spring, was even sunnier, and warmer, than yesterday.

Here are some of the garden flowers I did not pick yesterday:

We have pretty pansies,

a vast variety of head-hanging hellebores,

several flourishing viburnums,

precocious primulas, some a little nibbled,

different camellias,

and cerise cyclamens among others.

At midday we drove to Efford Recycling Centre to dump some of our rubbish, and

as usual departed with purchases from the Sales Area, namely a charger, some toddler toys and rolls of mats for the garden shed.

We then came back to Otter Nurseries where we enjoyed mushroom soup and rolls with the discount vouchers. After this we went driveabout.

The light was so clear over the Solent that we had the sharpest view of the flanks of the Isle of Wight, The Needles, and the lighthouse, a mile and a quarter away.

Walkers were silhouetted on Hordle West Cliff Top.

Driving along Angel Lane we gatecrashed a pheasant hen party.

Back at home, shortly before sunset, sand-clouds gathered over Christchurch Road. This time buildings, shrubs, and trees provided the silhouettes.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s chicken tikka biriani; vegetable pakoras and samosas; salad; and delicious cauliflower bhaji that would have graced any Indian kitchen. The cook drank Hoegaarden and the satisfied customer drank Kingfisher.

We Could Have Done A Runner

Frost lay on the bright, sunlit, garden this morning;

glittering on benches,

and on geranium leaves;

and the Waterboy pond was frozen. Abstractedly.

This afternoon Jackie drove Becky and me to The Beach House via Milford on Sea Post Office where I posted the prints to Frances.

This hotel, formerly Westover Hall, was built in 1897 from a design by the famous Victorian architect Arnold Mitchell for Alexander Siemens. The magnificent building was a beach house looking across the Solent to The Isle of Wight.

I have often photographed the firs in the front garden, but never before against the lowering sun.

Similarly, this view of The Needles and their flashing lighthouse, is no stranger to my lens. It is the pastel shades of the scene that appealed today.

A cyclist,

and walkers promenaded alongside the changing palette.

Reflecting a new meaning to solar lighting, the sky appeared to have illuminated some neighbouring rooms.

Near these modern homes, in The Beach House Garden, a gnarled pine has staggered to the ground and created a Hobbit house with similar internal lighting.

When I had finished wandering I joined the ladies inside for tea and cakes. Becky said I should get outside again because the light had already changed. I handed her the camera. She went off to collect some images of her own. They included

a dovecote;

an anchor;

a herringbone path;

and more sunsets,

one of which was a backcloth to further walkers.

Turning to the building itself, she spotted the fire escape outside,

and, inside, the hall of mirrors from which all the loos lead.

One of these doors was labelled

She was unable to resist trying the door which was locked. Anyone fancy writing a story about it?

PS. Poet Rummager took up the challenge, with a beautiful poem. See the pingback on her comment below

About to put the car key in the ignition, Jackie asked: ‘Has anyone paid?’ at which Becky and I both leaped (poetic licence here) out of the car and sped to the reception desk. The man who had served us had binned our bill because he assumed his female colleague had taken our money. He had to put it all back into the computer. We thought the charge very reasonable and exchanged jokes about having missed the opportunity to do a runner.

This evening Ian drove us to Dynasty Indian restaurant in Brockenhurst where we enjoyed excellent food and service. My choice was Lamb Tikka jalfrezi with special fried rice. We all shared onion bhajis. Becky drank rose wine and the rest of us drank Kingfisher.

Twins

This afternoon Jackie drove us all to Highcliffe Castle. The reason for the hilarity displayed in this picture is that, when debating whether we should pay for parking, I had said that we didn’t have to pay ‘from October until some other date’.

Well, I couldn’t remember exactly what.

Scooby did his best to get lost in the maze.

Ian examined an entrance,

at the side of which is a display board telling the story of the building. As usual, clicking on the image for enlargement will make this clearer.

It was a mild enough day for my companions to sample the tea shop refreshments alfresco. As they settled themselves, we met Kate and Toby with their twin baby daughters carried in slings.

I chose to investigate the grounds, from which, through trees, could be seen the sea and Mudeford Spit.

A lengthy zig-zag path led down to the beach.

On the way down I noticed a couple of walkers as I photographed the shore;

they seemed worthy of a picture in themselves. Only when I zoomed in on the second image did I recognise the twins and their happy parents. Naturally I parted with another of Becky’s blogging cards.

On my way back up the path I met Ian and Scooby coming down. At the top were the ladies.

By dusk the castle lights were lit.

This evening the four of us shared a bottle of Las Primas Gran Familia Airen sauvignon blanc 2014, with our Mr. Pink’s fish and chips.

Late Afternoon

This afternoon Jackie dropped me in the Barton Common car park as she drove off to the Beachcomber Cafe where I was to meet her, Becky, and Ian, after they had partaken of coffee and cakes whilst I floundered through the mud.

A bridge has now been placed over the stream running through the common,

where the footpaths are waterlogged,

or so muddy as to make me fear that my walking shoes were in danger of being sucked off.

At one point a pool reflected the sunlight over Christchurch Bay.

The more open areas are populated with numerous memorial benches.

Before threading my way through the kissing gate leading to the golf course, I encountered a rather soggy group of ponies chomping the grass,

or chewing lichen off the gnarled tree branches. This pony’s collar is reflective and a crucial aid to motorists at night. Although the common is securely fenced, you can never rule out the possibility of these animals finding their way on to the road.

Once through the gate, I took the footpath alongside the course down to the clifftop.

More of the footpath has been eroded in the year since my last walk along this way.

On the final stretch of my journey, I monitored the late afternoon sun peeking through the yellowing clouds.

This evening we dined on Becky’s brilliant beef burgers and weird wedges with garlic and herbs. These burgers are built with layers of salad, mayonnaise, cheese, and pickles. I drank more of the El Solitto, Jackie drank Hoegaarden, Ian drank San Miguel beer, and Becky drank Lyme Bay strawberry wine.

A Precocious Hellebore

We are still enjoying temperatures in double figures, and the rain was easier today.

This morning we left a large photographic print for mounting with 4Most Framing in Old Milton. We returned home via Barton on Sea where

the waves were choppy and a layer of spray around the dimly visible Isle of Wight gave it the appearance of a Hovercraft skimming over the surface of the water.

The weather was still mild enough for walkers to venture onto the shore down below the crumbling cliff.

This afternoon we brought our Christmas decorations downstairs and prepared a space for the tree which still occupies the boot of the car.

Jackie picked a precocious hellebore bloom and placed it in a little brown Victorian cream jug gathered by Matthew during our mudlarking days.

Later, she trailed a string of coloured lights along the front garden trellis.

The Christmas lights at Lymington, where we dined at Lal Quilla, were inviting, but I forgot my camera. Although it is several months since we last visited the restaurant we received our usual warm welcome and excellent meals with Kingfisher beer.

Giant Jenga

Last night at sundown I took an amble down to Roger’s field and back. On Downton Lane the light glinted behind the secret garden gate. On a glorious morning, Jackie drove me down to the cashpoint in Milford on Sea, and left me at The Beach House so I could take my usual walk home. The bright blue Solent, tuned into a yachting marina, reflected the skies above; the sun shone; still streaks of salmon clouds had risen to the surface above the horizon; a white-haired jogger plodded, solitary walkers strode energetically, while those with dogs paused periodically for a sniff along the clean gravelled footpath; butterflies fluttered; crows and gulls flew overhead; a small shrew scuttled out of the undergrowth; and thrift and other wild flowers glistened in the sunlight on the clifftop. A passing woman greeted me with ‘it’s a lovely morning’. ‘It is, said I, and I’ve left my camera battery at home’. ‘Oh, no’, she replied, reflecting my own feeling when I discovered I had left the energy supplier on charge overnight. Families leaving Shorefield teemed down to West Road. Younger joggers were out in force. Two small boys, in their eagerness to reach the sea, ran down the slope, the larger lad leaving the smaller panting in his wake. The breasts of another, sadly overweight, wobbled beneath his mesh-fronted T-shirt as he painfully waddled along. In the Country Park itself, basking holidaymakers breakfasted or read on their chalet balconies. A barking dog protected its temporary residence. On Downton Lane, speeding cyclists played chicken with cars, many open-topped, preventing them from travelling at their own preferred speed. In a recent post, Geoff , thebikinggardener #can i eat nasturtiums wrote of his ambivalent relationship with these plants. As we watered the front garden we were presented, in the form of hairy black and yellow chomping caterpillars, with ample evidence of what he was saying. The older section of our brick path, set almost 100 years ago, has, with the passage of time, soil movement and the incursion of tree roots, become uneven, and dangerous for visitors ending the support of walking sticks; although the bricks themselves remain sound. During the morning Aaron and Lee have made excellent progress in the task of lifting and levelling them. The original, fiddly, pattern has been lost, but that is a small price to pay. Before setting off to Shelley and Ron’s home in Walkford for a barbecue lunch we drove to Everton Nurseries to buy an aluminium bench for the south west corner of the rose garden, and put it in place on bricks we have yet properly to embed. The barbecue was also attended by Helen and Bill, Neil, Donna, and Anthony. We had a splendid afternoon of convivial conversation, superb sausages, lamb and chicken satay kebabs, salads, followed later by fruit salad, strawberries, lemon cake, and cheesecake according to choice. Red and white wine, coke, cider, and beer were all on offer. A surprisingly long section of the mid-afternoon was occupied by a game of Giant Jenga. It didn’t seem possible to me that this precarious pastime could last any longer than a few minutes. A tower of long wooden blocks is built to begin with. Each player must remove one block without upsetting the structure, and place it on the top. Gradually the lower levels are depleted, but the height remains the same, until the increasingly tottering tower finally collapses. The person who made the last successful placement is the winner.

After a few early extractions, Bill is seen here making another.

Quite early on Neil appeared to go to sleep on the job,

but recovered to make a flamboyant removal later on, when wobbling was under way.

Ron, with a flourish, applied his structural engineering skills to the task,

while Shelley undertook careful all-round investigation

and slid one out from the bottom, starting another top layer.

Helen couldn’t believe her luck.

As the tower began to sway, I didn’t really fancy my chances,

even after the withdrawal the tower was likely to topple.

Bill’s penultimate attempt warranted considerable contemplation,

as did Anthony’s final one.

I always followed Bill, and each time increasingly prayed that he would upset the structure.

Finally my luck was in. This was just as well, because Bill almost managed to withdraw the last block that would have been at all possible.

For the second evening running, we had no need of dinner.

I Watched The Needles Disappear

Since, except when there is no visibility, I always look across at the Isle of Wight when I walk along the cliff top to Milford or Barton on Sea, it is quite fortuitous that the next two of my interchangeable large format photographic prints that I substituted this morning should be of a trip to Shanklin taken by Jackie, Michael, and me in September 1968. This holiday is described in my post entitled ‘Mumbai’. The unframed picture of Michael, happily buried in the sand, also illustrates that article.

The water spout drained onto the beach.

It was late in the afternoon before today’s rain stopped. Except that, attracted by the ever-changing light over The Solent, and deterred by the muddy footpaths, I returned by the clifftop and the coast road, I took my usual route to Milford on Sea and back. Crows perched on the edge of the cliff before taking off and soaring up above. It was a much cooler day and the wind brought a chill from the sea, so walkers were well wrapped up.

The rainfall I had seen earlier falling on the headland to the West, eventually made its way across to the Isle of Wight, and I watched the Needles disappear before making my way home.

A cow momentarily left off its grazing in order to have a good scratch.

For this evening’s dinner Jackie produced her most edible chilli con carne (recipe) with savoury rice that was a meal in itself, followed by blackberry and apple crumble and clotted cream. She drank Hoegaarden whilst my choice was Castillo san Lorenzo rioja reserva 2009.