Wednesday 16th June 2021

The day the weather was due to change. After a good week of weather, storms were expected to build over France and drift over the Channel in the evening. I fired up the storm radar and it ticked away in the background as I worked away.

In the meantime, there was to be a very warm, if not hot day, with little wind to cool us.

Needless to say, there was work to do.

For Jools, work is increasing meaning she had to go in at quarter past six to catch up on what she had failed to do on Tuesday. Meaning, I was left alone with the cats and just the computer and podcasts to keep me company.

It was already warm.

Despite the garden and lawn being full of wild flowers, we haven't had that many butterflies visit us yet, or that I have seen. So, when I looked out and saw a pair of Painted Ladies sunning themselves on the white valarian, I was scrambling for my camera thinking I had got my shot of the day before breakfast.

Result.

Painted Ladies have an odd lifestyle, most are migrants and successive generations help the flocks migrate from north Africa, through southern Europe before crossing the Channel. Some years there is a major influx, like two years back, when we saw dozens in our garden alone, then last year: just one.

A couple of Red Admirals too were busy flying from flower to flower, like me, having breakfast.

Back inside and back to work, but having breakfast at the same time along with a third coffee of the day.

I have the task of updating a database, creating new entries that no one will look at, indeed a system that might not exist after the end of the year.

At then, I took an early lunch, grabbed my camera and went for a walk.

Windy Ridge is the name of a former plant nursery, that has now closed and is now a private house. I call Windy Ridge the area of that house and stretches to the wood behind.

For a wood, it has little other botanic interest above the trees themselves, even the bluebells that do show there are hybrids.

But there are several routes to get there, and my less trodden is the one up Station Road to the final bridleway that brings you to the wood itself that runs behind Windy Ridge (the house).

Hope that makes sense.

I go different was in the hope of seeing different flowers or butterflies, which sometimes works.

But yesterday was hot, I saw little new and no butterflies to snap.

Still good to get out of the house, though.

Back home, I have a pint of squash and check mails before having one of them working lunches.

The afternoon passes slowly, Finland v Russia played silently on my own laptop while I worked. Russia won 1-0, that was followed by Wales v Turkey, and Wales played the game of their lives, running out 2-0 winners, though only sealing the win in injury time at the end of the game.

There's lovely, see.

We have aubergine for dinner, before I help Jools to water the garden, and then it's Italy v Switzerland, which Itialy win 3-0. All this time, clouds had been building, drifting up and new clouds bubbling up through France, and drifting up along the Channel before making landfall at Eastbourne. By ten, and bedtime, it had reached Lydd, so it would be in darkness when the storm landed here.

An hour later I was woken up by flashes, crashes and general storm-like stuff. It faded quickly, but sleep was disturbed, I would be like a zombie in the morning.