Wednesday 8th September 2021

Rinse and repeat.

Rinse and repeat

Monday was just like Friday. Tuesday was just like Monday and Wednesday just like Tuesday.

Except no market in Kings Lynn.

Of course.

Another glorious sunrise, now visible somewhere over Kingsdown, the run rising red and angry into a blue sky, where half an hour before it was all patel tones and con-trails.

It was going to be even hotter. In Scotland, the hottest September day, ever.

THe back door was already opn, and once Mick and Kay had gone to work from next door, I opened the front door to get a draught going through the house.

And got to work.

In fact, somehow all was under control. I chased some people for replies, but all went well, and it felt strange. Being in control There were meetings, always is, and this time a walk through of a new process written by someone who didn't understand the subject the process was about. We tried to be nice, but then again, the document was shit. Later I would review it properly and add comments.

So it goes.

I defrost a couple of rolls, cut the last of the chicken fillets in half, coat the roll on mayo and smother the chicken in sweet chilli sauce.

Mmmmmmmm.

I work on.

It gets to one, not much going on, so I take myself for another walk, back to Windy Ridge on a butterfly hunt. I was eagar to see something unusual, as in Norfolk a Camberwell Beauty (Mourning Cloak) has been spotted. I saw one in the US a few years back, but it flew off before Jools or I could get a shot, maybe there'll be an influx this year?

I walk to the end of the Street, and from the other side of Station Road I could hear the sound of heavy machinery. A combine was getting in the last of the harvest, so I walk over and take 50 or so shots as it manouvered round the line of telegraph poles.

I walk up the middle track, past the war memorial, and although there was a few butterflies, it was so warm and sunny, they were too flighty to settle. I make do with seeing them from a distance: mostly Speckled Woods and a few Brown Argus.

Up to Windy Ridge itself and along the track, no Queen of Spain, not much of anything. A single Migrant Hawker flies up and down, but doesn't settle.

I get to the end, survey the vista down to Kingsdown a mile or three to the left and the calm sea beyond.

Time to go home. So, down the hill, then along the parallel track and up to Collingwood, I have been gone an hour, no one missed me.

I work until half three, and I am done. I watch an Episode of Mortimer and Whitehouse go Fishing. Nice gentle, good humoured wonderful TV.

I had promised Jools dirty food, so we have lamb burgers with onions and cheese. Taste overload, all just about ready when she got home. And we were all done, cleared away, coffee made and drunk too by half seven, in time for the footy: Poland v England.

A good game, though bad tempered in places and Poland were very rough. Harry Kane scored, but there was a kick in the tail as the Poles get a leveller in injury time.

I was beyond tired, Jools was already in bed, asleep and sending them home.