And home again

What do I make of the Isle of Wight?  Mixed bag, really.  I was expecting it to be quaint and old-fashioned.  Although I saw some little clusters of thatched houses and pubs, there are sprawling 20th century suburbs like everywhere else, and all the familiar names: Morrison, Sainsbury, Co-op, Aldi and Lidl.  Traffic, even off-season, was busy in the towns and on the main roads, and there was no shortage of aggressive young drivers in white vans.  

But the landscape is varied, ranging from bleak moorland to spectacular coastal scenery, and the place was blooming fit to bust with subjects that wouldn’t stand a chance further north.  The gardens at Osborne are a picture at the moment, and even at the IoW Steam Railway, the roses have responded well to my kind of pruning (hard!) and look really healthy and promising.

The railway visit was fun but rather expensive.  Pre-war rolling stock hauled by an ex-Army saddle tank 0-6-0.  Very comfortable, in stark contrast to modern rolling stock.  There is also an interesting and well-labelled museum.  Primroses and wind anemones in profusion along the track side, and of course lots of blossom in the trees.  We filled Monday with visits: the donkey sanctuary in the morning and Osborne House and gardens in the afternoon.  The donkey sanctuary is much bigger than we’d expected: they have about 180 donkeys, a mule and a white pony.  The donkeys are lovely tranquil beasts - except when they bring round a barrow of hay!  

Osborne is spectacular and period-correct ostentatious.  Vulgar though it all is, you cannot but admire the workmanship, particularly of the ceilings.  Lots of well-informed and enthusiastic volunteers to explain stuff as you go round.  My step count for the day was close to three times my target, so I was a shade footsore by evening.

Between the two visits we went across to Ryde for a stroll round and fish and chips on the Esplanade, and watched the hovercraft leaving and returning on the short crossing to Portsmouth.  Part of the reason for going there was that there is an EV charging point in the car park closest to the seafront: it delivered a full charge while we explored and had lunch.  Glad I’ve got the hang of that at last.  Much dearer than charging at home overnight, of course, but it’s still cheaper than combustion fuel.

Our digs were expensive and disappointing.  The kitchen was well-equipped but cheaply furnished, and we had to wash most of the crockery, cutlery and pans before we could use them.  Storage space everywhere bar the kitchen was close to non-existent, and we had to buy toilet and kitchen paper, as well as seasonings, which we usually expect to find in holiday lets.  Granted, they had provided a pint of milk, but we’d brought that anyway.  We’ve had bigger and better flats for substantially less, even in Switzerland.  But the place was quiet, and the view was stupendous.

We got to Fishbourne this morning in time for the ferry before the one we’d booked, so were in Pompey by the time we were due to leave Fishbourne.  Not a bad drive home (particularly since Martyn drove!) but the noisy M25 surface on much of the south-west seems to be exaggerated by the low profile tyres on the present car: most unpleasant.  Anyway, we were home in time for lunch of the sandwiches I’d expected to have somewhere en route.

The garden has not stood still, and the grass now definitely wants a cut!  Token gardening today: I’ve dead-headed a few daffs and hauled out a handful of weeds.  We seem to have had some decent rain while we were away: the big water butt is full to the brim.  Where we were, I think there was overnight rain one night, but we didn’t get wet: temperatures were on the chilly side, particularly first thing, but we were able to get out in the fresh air: not bad for a British April.

On the move again

We are treating ourselves to a few days away on the Isle of Wight: this the view from our digs.  The drive rather tired me out: I’m a bit short of stamina these days.  Before we checked in, we found a supermarket and an EV charging station in nearby Shanklin, so that’s the admin sorted.  We’re looking forward to exploring, or rather I am, and Martyn is looking forward to revisiting old haunts.  

Quiet afternoon and evening today: we brought our supper with us, so are getting to know the kitchen.  The flat has all we need: it’s not up the standard of places we’ve used in Switzerland, but at least there are comfortable chairs to relax in (unlike at our digs in Bern last year).  The view is delightful, and changes constantly as the day wears on, and the place is very quiet.  Watch this space.

More gardening (what else?)

Today being the last of a spell of fine days, we’ve been out being strenuous in the garden.  Martyn has cleared out the pond, and I’ve finished hacking down the cornus.  The front looks a bit desolate in consequence, but it’s a necessary job if we’re to have winter colour again.  I was pleased to find that one branch of the lime green cornus had layered quite well, so that’s potted up ready to go to its new home with one of my German conversation crowd.  

At the back, the roses are responding well to my pretty ruthless pruning, and we’re happy to see that the cream hellebore has bounced back from similarly harsh treatment from gardener Ben.  It’s nearly time to start cutting the grass again, but I’ll leave that until the next dry spell.

Puzzled, Disgustedville

I still struggle to believe what I’m hearing from the Untied States.  It seems to me that N°47 is being an elohesra for the sake of being an elohesra.  (Invert.)  Meanwhile, in the Untied Kingdom, the government seems to be doing much the same: stealing from the poor to give to the rich.  How about a wealth tax, Madam Chancellor?  How about some additional levels of Council Tax to haul in a bit of dosh from the mega-rich and absentee oligarchs sitting on vacant high-value properties?  We are very glad to be shot of the incompetent tories, but aren’t convinced that the new lot are a whole lot better.

Phew

Thanks to Martyn’s quiet supervision, I finally managed to charge the car today at Sainsbury’s.  Must admit that it was a case of RTFI: Read The …. Instructions.  I ought to have got this worked out long ago, but with our driving pattern, it’s usually enough to do an overnight charge at home.  

Garden waking up

The roses are all pruned, and I’m about to make a start on the various cornus shrubs, which are hurtling out of dormancy.  A nice surprise today, when I looked at the mini greenhouse: the fuchsias in the hanging baskets are coming back to life.  Their geranium and lobelia neighbours, however, did not make it through the winter, but there are geranium cuttings in the sitooterie - one of which I’ve had to discourage from flowering too soon.  Anyway, the hanging baskets are tidied up, top dressed with fresh compost and grit, watered well nd put back under cover.  The roses are responding well to my usual brutal pruning and feeding.  The crocuses and snowdrops are starting to go over, but we have various lots of daffodils in flower, and tulips and hyacinths are coming on.

All this may have been down to the extraordinarily mild weather in recent days.  This may change: we had quite a heavy hail shower this afternoon: short sleeves one day, hailstones the next.  Well, let’s hope for the best.  Our neighbour’s pink camellia is covered in flowers.  Our white one is budding up pretty well, but the red one is less promising.  

The mild weather has encouraged me to get out a bit on my hind legs, which is helping me towards my still very modest daily step count goal.  The knees are not encouraging such efforts, and winter inactivity has sapped energy levels and added weight.  But I’m still the right side of the grass, so that’s something to be grateful for.

Having lately had major expenditure on the fence following storm damage, wind has been somewhat on my mind (as well as elsewhere, of course).  For yesterday’s German conversation gathering it was my turn to host, so I sent out a couple of pieces about the winds that afflict Switzerland, the Bise and the Föhn.  For such a banal subject, the dialogue was really pretty good, and we all learned some new vocabulary.  It’s a friendly little group, and it helps me to cling on to what remains of my fluency.

Nice day for a drive…

…were it not to a funeral, and routed via the M25 and A12.  There was a very decent turnout, and the service was a bit shorter than my cousin Gill’s, Chris’s late wife’s, nearly five years ago.  (Tempus don’t half fugit!)  Chris’s daughters each contributed beautifully to the service.  I shuddered on reading the order of service that the service would end with Widor’s Toccata (from his Symphony N°5), since the organist got spectacularly lost that time.  Well, he got lost again this time, but retrievably.  We didn’t hang round till the end…. Though there was no wake afterwards - the crem slot was straight after the service - but we did get a chance to speak briefly with the four cousins as we left.

Having left plenty of time for the journey, we had a chance to look round the historic centre of Lavenham, and for an early lunch in a quaint tea shop on the main drag.  (I’m now paying for the generous salad…)

The travelling was not too unpleasant, but the roads were pretty busy.  Since the journey involved a round trip of 180 miles or so, I had a touch of range anxiety: motorway driving notoriously eats up battery charge.  But we got home with close to 20% - 60-ish miles - left ‘in the tank’.  The range is proving disappointing, so I need to master the art of using public charging stations.  I’d hoped to charge the battery this morning at Sainsbury’s, but the only available charging slot had an incompatible plug.  Saturday morning is plainly not the day to charge the car: the shops were jumping, and the car park was consequently jam packed.  I did wander along to the garden shop nearby, and it does have compatible equipment: not all that helpful, since one doesn’t want to spend time and money in the the café while the car does its voltaic stuff.  Anyway, the car is plugged in for an overnight charge at home, and I’ll check Sainsbury’s the next time I need to shop on a quieter day.

On Wednesday we had supper with old friends Jenny and Andy: Jen’s mother Jean lived next door to me when I was in my first little house, and we became friendly during her last months - 42 years ago, for goodness’ sake!  I used to cut her grass, and occasionally took her loveable Jack Russell, Daisy, for a walk.  Jean’s garden backed on to mine by my back door, and Daisy was always up at the fence for a bit of fuss when I got home from work.  I remember an evening during Jean’s last days when I was painting the door to the West Wing (outside WC).  Jean came up to the fence with a gin and tonic that would have stunned a horse, just to say thank you for the really modest help I’d given her.  I still have a couple of pot sinks that she’d brought down from Liverpool, and which Andy and Jen passed on to me: one is planted with bulbs and primulas, the other with oregano and thyme.

Jen and Andy have two endearing rescue dogs, Yana and Evie, the latter of which is loud and vivacious despite lacking a right front leg.  I’m not a great dog fan, but often find that I like the ones I’m introduced to!  Jen had prepared a delicious supper: a salmon, jumbo prawn and scallop gratin, which I shall be looking to emulate.

We have a full complement of fences again, and a less full housekeeping account in consequence.  The day after the fence work began, BT turned up to lay the fibre optic cable to the house.  Fortunately, that cost falls to BT, which is phasing out its circuit switched copper network, so as to shrink its vast property estate - and capitalise on the scrap value of its copper cables.  Just as well, since three or four chaps were here for three days.  My tea-making skills have consequently been in much demand.  Nice to know that one can be modestly useful in one’s declining years.