MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 20

When I was younger, so much younger than today (hmm, now where have I heard that sung?!) I spent many happy holidays in the New Forest area. My aunt and uncle lived there, first at Hordle, near Lymington, then later at New Milton, Christchurch, not far from the famous Cat and Fiddle inn.  I spent many happy hours wandering in the forest and picnicking by a stream. I loved to see the ponies on the heathland, and saw my very first stag near Burley. Whenever I visited, it was beautiful, from the purple heather and yellow gorse of spring to the golden autumn bracken. 

Last week I returned to the area with my daughter. It seemed strange not to be visiting my relatives (they have long since passed away) but we stayed in a very pleasant Travelodge,  and I was pleased to find that the forest and the heathland is still as beautiful as ever. Ponies and cattle still roam free, and the sun shining on the bracken was a glorious sight.  We went to Bolderwood, in the New Forest, where a viewing platform has been built that overlooks a wood where fallow deer roam, though normally at this time of year they are deep in the woods for the rut. However we were very lucky because we saw a fallow stag come from the wood, then, later, another stag, and they began to fight. The noise of clashing antlers was amazing, echoing round the forest. Meanwhile, the hinds just totally ignored them and sat round gossiping. I think they were rather superciliously leaving the boys to get on with it!

We walked through the woods, and then found a stream which had several fallen trees nearby. These trees were overgrown with thick green moss, pale great lichen and many different types of fungi. They looked like something from fairyland. It was so pretty there that I didn’t want to leave – the reflections in the water, the vista of the sun-speckled wood between the broken trunks, the delicate toadstools and the wren singing in a holly bush. It was very peaceful. I wished that I had such calm places near where I live, but unfortunately my home is in a busy town and there always seems to be a hum of traffic.

This is known as the ‘Portuguese Fireplace’ and is situated not far from Bolderwood. The plaque by it reads: ‘This is the site of a hutted camp occupied by a Portuguese army unit during the First World War. This unit assisted the depleted local labour force in producing timber for the war effort. The Forestry Commission has retained this fireplace from the cookhouse as a memorial to the men who lived and worked here and acknowledge the financial assistance of the Portuguese Government in its renovation.’ Apparently the Portuguese Army unit worked for the Canada Timber Corps helping the local population while the regular foresters were away fighting. Nearby is a simple memorial to Canadian troops in the Second World War, recalling Canadian forces present in the New Forest before the D Day invasion of June 6th, 1944.  A plaque reads: ‘On this site a cross was erected to the glory of God on 14th April 1944, by men of the 3rd Canadian Division RCASC’.

Me and Mike Berry

 In complete contrast to the peace and tranquillity of the New Forest, I also went to a rock concert, where my eardrums were blasted with songs from the past. It was wonderful! The concert took place at the Bournemouth Pavilion Theatre and I really enjoyed it. You have to be over a certain age to remember its stars - Marty Wilde, Eden Kane and Mike Berry. Mike stood in for John Leyton who isn't well at the moment (Mike used to be a singer long before he joined the cast of 'Are You Being Served' as a shop assistant). I was amazed at how good Marty, Eden's and Mike's voices still were – after all, they are even older than me! And though their backing group, the Wildcats, might be getting on a bit, and maybe are not quite so ‘wild’ as they once were and perhaps not have as much hair as they once did, my goodness, they can still play. When the drummer performed a really long solo as a tribute to Jet Harris, the whole audience was spellbound.

Me and Marty Wilde

We were asked to sing along, and nearly all the songs were late 1950s/early 1960s, so everyone knew the words. Practically all the audience had grey hair (women) or were bald (men), and when Marty did a few birthday requests, they were all for 70th birthdays, when in his heyday it would have been 21sts! But we sang along, danced in the aisles, waved our arms about... great fun. Afterwards, Mike Berry came into the foyer and I asked him if he would mind if my daughter took a photo of me with him. He looked at her and said, 'Blimey. You must be the youngest person here tonight!' Later, we went round to the stage door to get Marty's autograph and I had my photo taken with him too. Think I’m turning into a rock chick!

MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 19

This week I visited Paradise! Paradise Wildlife Park is situated near Broxbourne, Herts, and is home to lots of animals, birds and reptiles, including many rarities. Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t very paradisical – it poured with rain for much of the day, but even so, I still managed to see most of the creatures.

The zoo was purchased in 1984 by the Sampson Family, who could see potential in the then rundown ‘Broxbourne Zoo’ as it was once called. They renamed it ‘Paradise Wildlife Park’ and today, through their hard work and commitment, have produced a first class wildlife attraction, which contains many endangered and rare animals. Amongst the creatures I saw were snow leopards, white lions, tapirs, lemurs, red pandas, otters, camels, parrots, snakes, reindeer, penguins and gibbons. Some of the creatures had young. There was a tiny baby gibbon holding tight to its mother while a young tapir was demonstrating how strong it was by repeatedly lifting a large branch!

Additionally there was a farmyard section, with goats, sheep, pigs and Shetland ponies, while the bunny town consisted of ‘streets’ of house-shaped hutches each sponsored by a local organisation. There was a hutch containing some super guinea pigs too, and there were chickens scuffling around. Have you ever noticed how much beauty there is in the feathers of a chicken?

Everyone has certain things they have always wanted to do – and one of my wishes came true when I was given a tarantula to hold. I’m fond of spiders, and the large Chilean rose tarantula crawled all over my hands. It was a magnificent beast. And then I was allowed to stroke a skunk! The keeper assured me that ‘it only rarely sprays’ (!) so I risked it and stroked its white fur – it was an albino. Interestingly, although the fur looked soft, it felt quite coarse to the touch.

In the evening, I went to a talk by Chris Packham, presenter of many wildlife shows including Springwatch. I have been to several of his talks, and have always found them very entertaining; he shows stunning pictures of animals that he has photographed worldwide, recounting humorous anecdotes as he does so. He is one of those rare people able to hold an audience’s attention even when he changes tack to dwell on the more serious conservation problems. If you ever get the chance to attend a Chris Packham talk, please go! I’m sure that you’ll enjoy it.

This week I also visited Hatfield Forest, a place I visit frequently. The trees were just beginning to turn to their autumn shades – another couple of weeks and the leaves will be red, russet and gold. There were plenty of squirrels gathering beech mast, and on the lake were mallards, grebes, moorhens and geese. I took the path to the decoy pond and was surprised at how many dragonflies were still around enjoying the autumn sunshine. One kept returning to sit on the bench next to me.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves was beautiful, and as usual I took plenty of photographs. As I walked along the narrow path by the pond I heard the cry of a special bird and excitedly looked towards the water – a streak of electric blue sped by. A kingfisher. Luckily I recognised the cry so knew where to look. Although I have seen these beautiful birds before, that was the first kingfisher that I had seen at Hatfield Forest. Sadly, it was too quick for me to get a photo.

I find walking in the forest, amongst those beautiful trees – many of which are ancient – is very therapeutic and full of surprises. This time it was a kingfisher, but at other times I have glimpsed deer, watched baby coots, observed grebes diving for fish and seen a huge cormorant perched high on a bare tree against a blue winter sky. It looked rather like a pterodactyl, there was definitely something prehistoric about that long, strong beak with the hooked end, and the bird’s general poise. Squirrels are commonplace and magpies and jackdaws fly overhead. Sometimes there are nuthatches in a tree beside the path, and often jays and green woodpeckers are around. Yes, I find that a walk through the woods is relaxing and a perfect way to blow away the cobwebs from my mind.

MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 18
　
Cornwall is a mystical land. I can’t be the only one to sense the uniqueness of the county, and once I’ve passed the sign saying ‘Kernow’ and seen the black and white Cornish flags flying, I know I’m in a special place. From harbours teeming with life and packed with brightly coloured boats to tiny sandy inlets with a gull or two for company, and from bleak heather-clad moors to bustling towns, I’ve explored most of the land over the many years I’ve visited.

This time though, my husband and I were there just for a short three-night break, staying at a Premier inn at Fadden, not far from Newquay. (An excellent place to stay, incidentally, with really friendly staff.) We had almost reached our destination when I saw a sign reading ‘Screech Owl Sanctuary’, so we turned off and were soon amongst owls of all shapes and sizes. If you’re ever that way, do go and visit – we were introduced to a number of owls and allowed to stroke their heads or tummies. They seemed to enjoy it! The owls were brought over by a handler one at a time, and she worked up from a tiny burrowing owl to an enormous eagle owl, via tawnys, barn owls and other delights. She explained about each type of owl, telling of their habitat, peculiarities and how they lived in the wild. One young owl was hopping up and down as if to say, ‘My turn now. Pick me!’

The following day we visited the Bodmin and Wenford railway, which was running steam engines, as my husband is a great steam enthusiast. We did the full ride, both ways, from Bodmin General to Boscarne Junction and back, and then from Bodmin General to Bodmin Parkway and back. I find travelling steam trains very therapeutic – the clattering rhythm whisks me straight back to my childhood, and also brings to mind the poem by Robert Louis Stevenson that so cleverly encapsulates the rhythm:

Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;
And charging along like troops in a battle
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
Painted stations whistle by.
Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,
All by himself and gathering brambles;
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;
And here is the green for stringing the daisies!
Here is a cart runaway in the road
Lumping along with man and load;
And here is a mill, and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone forever!

Later, we went along to Padstow, one of my favourite places in Cornwall – there are plenty of seats around the harbour, and sometimes there is a band playing. There was no band on Monday when we went, but the cries of the gulls provided their own special type of music! I watched a turnstone pottering around the quay, moving so quickly he looked like a clockwork bird rather than a real, feathery one, and I also saw a delightful dog being given his very own ice cream cone, which he was licking with relish.

We returned to the motel, stopping for a while en route at Mawgan Porth, a special place for us, as it is where we spent our holiday the first time that we visited Cornwall, back in the early 1970s. We continued to holiday there right through to the late 1980s, introducing our children to the delights of the area, especially the beautiful beach of Mawgan Porth. This time we spent an hour or so walking the wonderful, beautiful sandy beach, watching the waves breaking on the rocks at each side of the bay.

Tuesday morning found us at another pretty harbour, Mevagissey, and the sky was a glorious shade of blue while the sun was reflecting off the reds, blues and greens of the boats, making them dazzle. Fishermen were sorting their nets by the quayside and gulls were fighting over starfish and crabs in the harbour mud. There were a few swans around, too, and a cluster of turnstones were bathing in some shallow water. People were enjoying the unexpected warm sun, eating ice creams or Cornish pasties as they watched the boats.

Just after lunch, though, the weather changed and the sky was a mass of grey. It wasn’t long before the rain came, which it did in absolute torrents. We made our way to the Eden Project, knowing that we would be warm and dry in the biomes there. Luckily, we had season tickets, so were soon inside, ignoring the noise of the rain as we feasted our eyes on tropical and subtropical plants. As usual, I made a beeline for the huge bull and other statues in the ‘Rites of Dioysus’ exhibit by Tom Shaw in the olive grove in the Mediterranean dome; the statues are so vivacious that they give the impression they will suddenly come to life and dance.

The next day it was time to come home – I was pleased to see that though the garden bore signs of heavy rain, with the lawn sodden and water dripping from the crab apple trees, the bower was still dry. It was still sporting passionflowers and purple clematis, and the green and orange cushions on its benches were as welcoming as ever!