Monday 11th April 2016

Sunday

You can tell, even laying in bed in the half-light in the bedroom, that somehow, outside, it was a glorious day. Or would be.

And with there no pressing need to watch the highlights of Norwich's latest defeat in the league, so once we had eated breakfast, would go out and do stuff. Now, according to Jools, I had mentioned just visiting one orchid site, and in my mond it was clear the whole day was given over to orchids, and it was OK to just visit site after site after site.

On the drive out of the village with us heading to Kingsdown, and Jools thinking we should be driving up the A2, there was a discussion about the sharing of plans and the late changing of such. Fair point I suppose.

At Kingsdown, we park up and walk to the spot where the small colony of Early Spiders can be found, and the news is, well, no news. Other than that there really have not done much in the last week; do to with their exposed location I suspect. So, after surveying them, we walk back to the car and drive to Samphire Hoe. There is no point in pretending we went anywhere else, as this is the premier location for the tiny orchids, so.

It was quiet on The Hoe, we paid the pound parking fee, and Jools goes for a walk along the sea wall, and I go hunting for orchids.

It is odd, that despite the orchids growing for about 400m, only a handful have put up spikes, and only two with the promise of us seeing any open flowers by next weekend. So, I walk to the end of the Hoe to snap the view over to Folkestone, and at low tide, it was worth the extra effort.

By now I had been gone nearly an hour, so I suspect that Jools would be pacing up and down waiting for me with the car keys. But she was sitting happily in the warm sunshine, just waiting and people watching.

From there we go to Folkestone then up the Elham Valley road, through wonderful verdant fields, woods erupting in colour with spring flowers. It was all rather pleasant I have to say. But we had to get one, not too quickly though, as I had to annoy the Toyota driver that had been tailgating me all the way from Folkestone, so I slowed down further. He did not seem best pleased.

Barham is a picture, with the Nailbourne still in full flow running through the village centre meadow. We park and don our walking boots, as the rain the day before had turned the bridleway into a torrent of mud; but a torrent that was drying out quickly.

Even as we walked up the slope, we could see the small area of bluebells on the right hand side all open and looking glorious in the warm sunshine. Jools even had her camera so got down on her hands and knees from some serious macro work, and I pressed on past her to look for the orchids. I find the first few spikes, in the strongest and brightest spots, almost ready to pop, showing purple on their spikes. But not one was out.

Elsewhere in the wood, there were more and more bluebells about, stretching to the edge of a slight drop leading down onto the road below. I stand still in the near silence of the wood, just listening and taking the scene in. Only there isn't real silence; birds are singing all around, chaffinches are bouncing along the ground, looking for seeds and bugs. Beams of sunlight attract small bugs and flies, all swirling around.

The only remaining question si do we call it a day at half ten and visit the old folks before lunch, or go up the motorway to the bluebell wood we know, worth doing as we knew now that they would be out. Not really a choice to be honest, we put on Cerys on Radio 6 and drive back to the A2, past Canterbury and up the motorway.

Off the main road where the lane quickly narrows to a track barely wider than the car, to the small reserve at the back of some nice modern houses. In the wood even before we can get out, we see blue everywhere.

I decide to walk round with the 50mm before switching to the macro. I know the woods so well, so I know where the best views are, or should I say the most photogenic, as I have shot here before. Lets be honest, bluebells are glorious from almost any angle. And as ever, we have the whole wood to ourselves, just Jools and I walking round, snapping away.

Mixed in with the bluebells were pure white anemones, wood ones, all gently bobbing in the breeze. I snap them too.

I am done, Jools is already back in the car, so we make our way back onto the motorway and then back east to Dover, turning off at Whitfield to visit the old folks. Little changes there, but they are changing curtains, and they have Betty unhooking the runners from the top of each pair for her room. She isn't happy about it, or looks it for sure. We talk to Jen about the trip to Japan, and it all seems so close now, less than four weeks until we fly.

Back home I cook breakfast burgers and bacon rolls; which were every bit as delicious as they sound. I only had fruit for breakfast so was very hungry, it worked for me.

Only the radio Leicester's dream season continued in beating sunderland with two second half goals from Jamie Vardy, thus doing Norwich a favour in beating the only other club in with a chance of catching us. Jools goes to visit Nan, and for a change I don't sleep on the sofa, but listen to yet more football as Spurs beat Man Utd 3-0 with all goals coming late on. How the mighty have fallen?

Dinner is griddled lamb chump chops, seasoned with fresh pepper and served with fresh baby new potatoes and steamed vegetables with spicy cheese sauce. All as nice as it sounds.

And somehow the weekend has flown by again, it is half eight, and there is showers to take, calls to Mother dearest to endure.