Sunday 23rd February 2025

The second day of the weekend, and my last day at home for more than a week. As tomorrow I put on my travelling shoes and head to sunny Denmark. We woke at half six when the hot water heater switched on, so Jools went down to feed the cats, and in time, make coffee.

Nothing much planned, other than maybe eating a meal, relaxing and packing.

We had coffee, listened to the radio, and the plan had been fruit for breakfast, but I saw some roles and thought of bacon butties.

But we had no bacon!

But there were sausages in the freezer.

Sausage sarnies, then!

9 minutes in the microwave to defrost, some gently frying in the pan, and some twenty minutes later we had breakfast.

After a lazy start, I mentioned Kingsdownher had seen some Lesser Celandines in Guston, so I thought we could go there, then see Jen.

We went via the Castle so we could see the new houses that replaced the 25m range and assault course. They looked OK, I guess, and out of the way on top of the down.

Along to Guston, we parked at the church, and in the churchyard were a few drops of golden yellow where a first flowers were in bloom.

I took a few shots, then with the early morning sun having faded, we beat retreat to the car and then over the fields to Pineham to Jen's.

We stay an hour, chatting, before we go back home so I could peel some spuds for dinner, then settle down for an afternoon of footy.

Newcastle and Forest shared seven goals with the Toon winning 4-2, before Liverpool beat Citeh 2-0 to about clinch the title.

Between, I cook dinner: steak and ale pie, roast potatoes and steamed veg.

The usual.

And the potatoes were the best ever.

Reality then took over as I have to pack and make sure I have all my work things.

One last time..........

Saturday 22nd February 2025

Should I really be contemplating a day trip to Norfolk just 24 hours after being laid so low?

I felt I recovered well on Friday, though not hungry still. After getting up and having a coffee, all was set.

I had to catch the ten to six train out of Dover, as I had a cheap ticket. I was going to have something from the buffet, or Pumpkin as its now called.

But was closed.

So, I sat on the station waiting for the train to pull in.

I got on and sat on my favourite side, the carriage was quiet, which suits me. Sadly, at Folkestone West, ten ladies got on and sat in the seats in front clearly on a weekend taking in the bright lights of London. They spent all the journey to Stafford talking about foundation cream and this season's colours.

But who am I to judge?

At Stratford I went up to the concourse then along to the DLY, hopping on a train that was about to depart for the stop to Stratford (Regional).

Where I found I had a fifty (50) minute wait, so went to the Middle Eastern kiosk on the underpass for lamb samosas and a coke.

The overnight rain had cleared, so I took my breakfast to the platform and found a dry seat under the footbridge and spent a fine half hour people and train watching.

As you do.

The train arrived at 08:37, it was three quarters full, but still plenty of seats.

So I took a seat on the right hand so I could watch the suburban stations flash by and then out into the Essex badlands.

No stopping at Chelmsford, onwards to the delights of Colchester and into Suffolk.

Train toilets can now be flushed in stations, so that joy is taken away. Not that I would have, anyway.

Unusually, both Ipswich and Norwich were playing at home on the same day at the same time, as were Colchester. Loads of fans got off at Ipswich, so the quarter full train continued to Stowmarket and Diss.

Then to Norwich.

Norwich is my old stamping ground, a city I know so well, apart from the usual suspects hard to enter churches, there wasn't a lot I could think off to fill in the two hours before opening time.

I looked at Simon's album of roof bosses from the Cathedral cloister, and decided I would photograph those. I didn't have a long enough lens, but what the hell.

Into Norfolk just before arriving in Diss, then through the rolling countryside peppered with sentinel-like church towers. Some close, some distant.

And then we were on the edge of the city, round to the single track bridge and into Thorpe Station, as was.

Back home.

If anywhere feels like home now.

I walked up the once vibrant Prince of Wales road, still with nightclubs and lap dancing bars, but most looking down at heel. The lights and paint not so bright, and the pub after which the road is named, is no more and is a gaming hub. Closed.

Through the Erpingham Gate into the precinct and to the modern entrance. I paid a tenner, and went straight to the cloisters, having declined a map.

I spent nearly an hour photographing and then talking to an American gentleman before a figure came to my shoulder.

It my my friend, Cam, and I was here to meet him and others for beers, chats and laughs.

We shook hands and chatted. I took a few more shots before we went back into the Nave and did one grand loop of the Sanctuary before leaving and getting his cycle.

A five minute walk down Wensum Street, over the bridge and onto Magdalen Street to the Kings Head, five past opening time.

I had a fine cherry-chocolate porter to start, and we met John and Stephen in the rear bar.

Hands shook, update on Simon's journey, and we got down to chit chat.

The pub was lively, with lots of scarf bedecked fans coming in for a pint or two before heading off to the home of football.

At some point, Simon arrived having had to get a rail replacement bus from Diss to Norwich, he was soon catching up.

We left for the Ribs at three, our number already down to the hardcore three, and Cameron left at four to meet with his family.

We took our beers to the decking just over the river surface, and leisured in the warm later afternoon breeze and low sun, it was warm.

Nearly.

I ended up having an argument with the two racist Brexit supports beside me, thankfully they left, leaving Simon and myself to empty our glasses and at five, walk down towards the station.

Norwich had won 4-2 against Stoke, while Ipswich lost 4-1 to local rivals Spurs.

At the Compleat Angler, it was full with happy fans. Simon got a round in, and I sat outside, though with dusk falling it was no longer warm.

We walk across the rad to the station, climbed on board the train waiting, quite full. But we found seats round a table, so spread out and chatted some more.

The train moved out, and into the blackness of the moonless night, illuminated only by the villages and stations on the line.

Simon got out at Norwich, the train continued south. I got a sandwich from the refreshment trolley.

The train entered Essex, speeding towards the capital.

At Stratford, back on the DLR to the International station where I had a twenty minute wait for my train, which when it arrived was busy, but with seats free.

So, just an hour down to Dover, where Jools was waiting for me to take me home for one last brew before going to bed.

Friday 21st February 2025

This will be a brief post.

I had a bad night, as you might imagine, with only dozing between outbursts.

By half three, I had expelled most of what there was to be expelled, so snoozed to half five, when Jools woke up.

No matter how well meaning others are, there is nothing they can do to help, maybe bring a drink or more drugs, but unless they can wave a wand and make it all go away.

Jools put the bins out, fed the cats, then eft for work. I stayed in bed, listening to a podcast, but dozing off before it eneded.

And so the morning passed, with me drifting in an out of sleep, but my body feeling like I had fallen down a mountain and my head stuffed with straw.

Jools came back to take Scully to the vet, and when she returned she made coffee, so I got up and got dressed.

Best coffee ever; sweet and strong, giving me energy and helping me feel human again.

I take to the sofa to watch TV while Jools goes out on chores. The cats are every hungry, and four pairs of eyes follow us as we move around.

Jools comes back with Ritz crackers and sausage rolls, so I have one roll and some crackers with another coffee, and that will do today for food.

A quiet night and early to bed, methinks. Feeling better hour by hour.

Thursday 20th February 2025

It was inevitable, I guess, that I would catch the bug that Jools had on Monday.

It came on the same way, the same time of day as hers, so a long and sickly night lay ahead.

Before then, it had been a great day.

Although the weather was dull and drizzly, the picture of the day taken before work with rain running down the kitchen door.

I had some admin to do, and so through the morning closed one third of the open audit findings I had, including for one audit that was nearly a year old.

I was able to present the news at the monthly department meeting. Sadly, when I was asked how to remove the roadblocks and issues, my new manager didn't really listen to me, so another reason to be happy in leaving the company in four weeks.

I was done by lunch, so ate then sat with Scully watching Bangers and Cash.

I cleared up and had the house ready for when Jools came back. Prepared dinner, breaded chicken, air fried potatoes and Boston Beans.

And that was fine.

Until it wasn't.

Wednesday 19th February 2025

Another glorious sunny, but cold day.

Up at quarter to six, and already dawn's warm light was spreading out across the sky at the back of the house.

I would either walk again later, or finish up the front garden clearing out last year's Goldenrod stems and other dead plants.

This year's shoots are already showing at their base, so there's no time to lose.

Jools went to work, still not 100%, not that hungry, and her usual meals the day before did her no favours. So she went to Tesco to get some crackers and other bland foods before going to the office.

I had four hours of meetings, one after the other was I try to clear my desk before I leave, it seemed impossible, but as it happened, some 13 deviations were agreed to be closed, and so the meetings ended in good sprits, and comments on how sad it was I was leaving, a loss to the company, and all that.

If only my old boss was here to hear it. No, if she was still in post I would have resigned in September.

So it goes, so it goes.

Lunch was defrosted and warmed up Italian lentils with pasta, which was as good as it was when fresh. Would have been better with a glass of red wine, of course.

After sitting with Scully watching crap TV I go to the front garden to clear the last of the dead stuff, before the rain expected on Thursday arrived.

Its still light at five, and not yet dark at half past when Jools came home. We feasted on pizza and salami and beer.

Dinner of (Italian) Champions.

Football in the evening, listening to the radio, as Citeh lost heavily to Real and so are out of Europe for another year.

Oh dear. Never mind.

Tuesday 18th February 2025

Jools felt just about well enough to return to work. I wouldn't have done, but she had slept well, though had eaten little.

Meaning it was just me and the cats.

It was another frosty start, and would get sunnier, brighter, but little warmer through the day.

Jools had a shower, dressed and took herself to work, leaving me to feed the birds and start work.

After Tuesday, I would have just 23 working days left, and a good nine of them were going to fly by when I travel to Denmark in weeks 9 and 10 on my grand farewell tour.

The heating and with the warmth of the rising sun soon meant the house was warm, if not hot, and a struggle to stay awake.

I made pasta a limone, adding a spring (green) onion at the end, which should have made it worse, but was made even better.

I really wanted a glass or two of red as well, but made do with squash.

And after lunch I went for a walk.

Not far, but all improvements have to start somewhere. So I put on my walking shoes, grabbed a camera and put on my coat, then set off down the street, where on a verge I found a Bee Orchid rosette.

The track and path over the field were quite dry, so only light mud. And although the field tot he north had been ploughed and seeded, the larger southern one was still fallow, full of Annual mercury, Common groundsel, Common Field Speedwell, freshly emerged Sun Spurge among many others, but no insects.

In fact I have seen a couple of queen bumble bees, and that's it so far this year.

I turn for home as my back grumbles, and am happy to get home, take off my shoes and sit on the sofa beside Scully to watch Bangers and Cash on the telly box.

Jools came back at half five, not hungry much. I made sausage rolls for dinner, four each, about right as it was the main meal of the day, but perhaps not the best of meals for Jools.

Anyway, she went to lay down and I listened to football: Celtic v Bayern, with Bayern scorning with the last kick of the game to knock Celtic out.

So it goes, so it goes.

Monday 17th February 2025

I'm not going to linger much on this, but let me say that Jools's sore stomach erupted into gastric flu with added vomiting.

All in all, she did a fine Linda Blair impression, and it was all very, very grim. And being well, there was little I could do than just stand by and watch.

Come the morning, neither of us had slept much, I was fine, but Jools was still leaking, so she didn't go to work for the day. I called her boss to explain, then let Jools sleep or keep her hydrated with herbal tea..

Meanwhile I worked.

And work has got quite busy these past few days, as pressure comes for folks to close the audit findings I raised, and so meeting after meeting with them explaining what they had done, and me having to tell them why they had done wasn't enough or what was required.

Outside, it looked like Spring. The sun shone down from clear blue skies and there was hardly a breath of air. But it was only just above freezing, and not warm enough to sit on the patio or even go for a walk.

I tried to keep quiet, so Jools could rest, and so through the day from breakfast, I guess she must have slept more than 12 hours of that 18 hours, ten slept through the night to Tuesday morning, pretty much.

A eleven, I had to take Scully back to the vet to have her blood sugars measured after week on increased insulin.

Not much traffic about, it being half term, but even still very light traffic, and when I got tot he vet, no other cars or customers.

Scully was seen straight away, and the result was her sugar level had increased! Which may be a by-product of the stress going to the vets, so she will have to go for an eight hour stay again and have sugars measured hour by hour.

Back home for lunch for me, lunch of oatcakes and marmalade with a huge brew for me, and herbal tea for Jools.

I watch crap telly for a couple of hours, and Jools sleeps on. Which is what she needed, obviously.

Night came, Jools got up and we have some lightly buttered flatbreads for supper, and a coffee each. After which Jools went back to bed, though she sounded human again and was talking normally.

She went to bed at half seven, and I put the footy on quietly, and silence, or something close to it, descended on Chez Jelltex.

Sunday 16th February 2025

I realised when I was getting dressed, that from the end of next month I won't need to get a hair cut Sunday morning, I could get it done any day of the week, at any time.

I have been going to Folkestone for a shear once I found a barber there over a decade ago opened Sundays, meaning I could do either churchcrawling or orchid hunting on a Saturday and still be cut.

That first shop was convenient, but he never cut my hair short as I wanted, so I had to go back every three weeks or so to get it redone.

Then the one, run by a family of Armenians, opened along the street, and they cut my hair as short as I wanted.

I rarely go anywhere else now.

So, it was with a heavy heart that we set out after breakfast on what could very well be my last jaunt to Folkestone on a Sunday morning for a snip.

Traffic was light, and yet what there was out didn't really know how to use their indicators.

I dropped Jools off in Wear Bay and then went to the centre of town to park, then walk to the shop. I tried to get my jacket on, but would not work. Until I realised it was upside down.

In the shop there were three free seats, I was offered one. I explained this might be my last trip, and they were genuinely sad about that.

I was shorn, close and with more attention than normal, and all done in 40 minutes.

A quick nip down to the Italian deli for some twisty pasta, where Jools followed my to, then back to the car and back home.

It was a glorious day; sunny, little wind, but bitterly cold. Too cold to go out much, and anyway, I had dinner to prepare.

Lunch.

Ribeye steaks, par-boiled potatoes done in the air fryer, garlic mushrooms and the last of the frozen corn.

We ate at half one, all done perfectly, and delicious. We had pink fizz too, which made staying awake very hard.

There was footy on the TV: Liverpool beat Wolves 2-1, then followed Spurs v Man Utd for "super Sunday", with neither teams being in super form.

Spurs won 1-0, their first home win in the league for something like 109 days.

Jools didn't feel well, so went to bed at eight, I followed soon after, being a sleepy boy.

Saturday 15th February 2025

Its beginning to feel a little like Spring.

Even if the temperature didn't get above 4 degrees today, the sun did shine, and there was little breeze. And on our travels through the Kent countryside, spring flowers were everywhere to be seen.

We got up at half six when the water heater fired up, fed the cats, gave Scully her jab and made coffee.

Then to Whitfield for some hunting and gathering. Jools needing a cider restock and then the rest of the stuff we get through each week.

At least shopping so early means missing most of the crazies, and we see the same faces each week, though not well enough to speak, maybe the nod of a head.

Back home for breakfast of fruit and tea, put the shopping away and ignore the meows for more food.

And off out for some gentle churchcrawling. Our first target is perhaps the last substantial Norman church in east Kent I had yet to visit: Great Chart.

Great Chart is now a suburb of Ashford, which is spreading westwards towards the Romney Marsh. This means navigating the series of manic roundabouts onto the A28, past Waitrose and out of town, turning off on about the tenth roundabout, and through the village, no new builds here.

And on top of the hill is the church, which Google maps assured me would be open at ten. It was twenty five to eleven, so safe as milk?

No. It was locked, with no details of keyholders. So I took some exterior shots and we walked back to the car.

I had a back up. We were going here anyway, just Jools didn't know.

On the other side of Ashford, out in the countryside, and just below the treeline of Kings Wood, at the end of a dead end lane next to a manor house, is Boughton Aluph.

I knew it would be locked, but also knew there was details of a keyholder. So, once we arrived, I called the number, was given directions, and off we set to Boughton Leas.

Up a six footer up the down, right at a junction, then right at the first cottage, and the old lady was waiting.

We reversed out, turned round and went back to the church, parking in the entrance to a field.

Beds jammed with Winter Aconites abounded, but i only had eyes for the church, up the steep path and through the old swing gate.

There is no path to the Priest's door, just a track of flattened grass. I went down the stops, inserted the key and turned, the door moved, then opened.

Inside is a large a airy space, well lit through windows with little stained glass. Entry is via the vestry in the north chapel, so I walk out into the Chancel, ad look back at the large Nave, filled with chairs.

The walls are sparsely adorned, with the memorials that are there as listed by Hasted below. Amazing to think of details recorded 220 years ago are still there and recognisable by his description.

The church has a new organ, which I am told sounds splendid in the summer when there are regular concerts as part of Stour Valley Music group.

Beside the organ I see the wall painting of The Trinity, though it is hard to see it all other than via an oblique view as the organ is in the way.

Ancient glass fills the upper traceries of the east window, most in good condition. At the west in, shards and remnants make more of an abstract display.

After half an hour I was done, so leave a donation and exit the church, locking the door behind me.

We took the key back, then was the question: shall we have lunch out?

We shall.

But where.

I mention the New Flying Horse in Wye, which is three miles away across the Stour and railway. So off we go. At the level crossing we see the new barriers, which replaced the manual gates a couple of years back, then up through the village, past the mad parking near the market, and along a back street to the pub.

It was five minutes past opening time.

They had a table, and at least three menus. We both chose steakburgers, and so waited and people-watched until the food arrived.

It was nothing extraordinary, but that's not what you want in a burger: just cheese, bacon and pickles. And lots of crispy fries.

We pay, and leave. Jools had accidentally ordered a pint of cider, so I drove back, back over Wye Down, to Stone Street then to Bridge and onto the A2.

Traffic was very light, we got back at two, just in time to watch the end of the lunchtime games and make a brew before taking my place beside Scully on the sofa.

Where I then fell asleep for half an hour.

Norwich only drew at Hull, a team we put to the sword in the warm autumn sunshine back in September.

Bacon butties for supper, then settle down to watch Palace v Everton, and it was the Toffees who win again under their old new manager, David Moyes.

Friday 14th February 2025

Every day is now full of feline drama: due to Scully's diabetes and injections, we have to make sure she only gets fed at actual meal times, not to have food hanging round all day.

And that means that it effects all other cats, and so cats having been used to, in Mulder and Scully's case, food all the while for fifteen years, to having to wait twelve hours between feeds, and no amount of meowing or spragging curtains and sofas isn't going to change anything.

So, whenever either of us walks about, one cat or anther follows us and meows for food, Mulder here trying to get up to my eye level to enforce his pain not eating for eight hours.

The end of another week. Very quiet, though Friday was filled with four meetings, and after the first one, I press the "nuclear" button and escalate their inaction.

Mails fly back and forth the rest of the day, and two more meetings arranged, but attention grabbed.

Once Jools comes home, we go back out again, via Tesco to get photos done for our Indian Visa, then to Jen's for cards and chat.

Jools and I are nearly out of money, and the mood on our side was low, but raised right at the end when I scooped the kitty in getting a run of four.

Yay.

Back home for dinner of Carbonara followed by the music quiz. I do poorly again, though get the answer right, but not one for the first ten to submit the answer.

There was football on the box: Brighton v Chelsea, and Brighton cruised to a 3-0 win.

Thursday 13th February 2025

Thursday. Each day the weather perks up, and there is clearly more light every morning and evening.

I spoke with my friend, Gary, and halfway though talking, I could see it was five and yet still light.

As if by magic.

And so by magic, the year presses on and my time for gainful employment grows ever shorter. 26 days left at the end of Thursday, and the realisation there isn't enough tome to get the tasks I have already done, or take on any new ones.

So it goes, so it goes.

We lay in now to six, then stumble around in a sleepy fug to get dressed, feed the cats ad be ready for work by seven, or having left the house.

Cats sleep on.

I can't go out, there are two deliveries coming: a rain jacket and the new PSB album.

Cast iron excuses.

Not much to report in truth. There is no apparent manager, so I just cruise through this last month at work, unbothered by additional tasks.

I have a fresh brew and find a new podcast to listen to.

The garden is still to show much new growth, though there are now seven, sorry, eight aconites in flower, though two have been pecked at my Chaffinches looking for sunflower seeds.

I sit with Scully through the afternoon, watching crap, but gentle TV, and following an ancient edition of Kojak during the ad breaks on a neighbouring channel. Telly was a great actor, and I think it captures the 70s NYC police station chic, or how I imagined it to be.

I make Moroccan spiced chickpeas and lentil stew for dinner. I give it an extra spicy kick, and it is splendid. Lentils for lunch and dinner is too much, apparently.

Check.

No football on the tellybox during the evening, so off to bed at ten past eight, and no reading, straight to sleep.

Wednesday 12th February 2025

Life goes on.

And the year goes on.

Wednesday was a warmer and brighter day, and light until five in the evening, and was not quite dark when Jools came home at half five.

By then I had been a busy bee.

I have no work really to prepare for, just follow up, so my days have openings.

Sorry, my calendar has openings. Windows. And with the sun having broken through the mist at dawn, it was warm enough to sit on the patio and watch the birds on the feeders.

At this time of year, after the local farmers have thrashed the hedges, gardens are pretty much the only source for food now. And we have had most of the usual garden birds, plus a few Jays coming in to jam up to 20 peanuts in their craw.

Blackbirds have started to sing, but looking around the garden, still the only spring flowers out are aconites, with the tally now having gone up to 7 (seven).

here is some work, but with Rune trying not to break his legs in Italy whilst skiing, and Henrik spent the day in Hamburg on a confined spaces Course.

So I worked on.

But at half ten with the sun shining and there being just a gentle breeze, I went to the shed to pick up the shears, broom and bin, and set about trimming the lavender which is thriving in front of the wall out the front, so much so the pavement is now only wide enough for one person, so the task was to widen that.

After half an hour shearing, sweeping, I do the Verbascums along the drive too. I tidy up and look at a job well done.

Heck, I even put the tools away, then go for a brew and lunch, sitting again on the patio as the air is filled with birdsong.

We have booked up another trip. In 13 months we will be going to Cyprus looking for orchids, and Jools will be coming along for the craic.

I did too much, of course, my back complained, and at the office, Jools had a hell of a day and did not leave for home until twenty past five. She called if I wanted to go to the gym, I said not a good idea. Phew, she said.

So we had toasted hot cross buns for supper once she was home, and a lazy evening of crafting or listening to football.

Tuesday 11th February 2025

It has been a bad start to the year.

One of my former quality inspectors died two weeks back, and within our RAF trade group on Facebook, there have been at least one member passing each week, sometimes more.

I have thought of the chemicals and other substances we used, and at time cocktails of drugs meant to protect us, so apparently healthy and hearty well met fellows have met their end sooner than expected.

I don't know.

Two weeks back, a guy I joined up with passed away from heart disease, Hans Peter in Denmark passed from colon cancer, both were the same age as me.

Hardest to bear was the passing of my last Flight Sergeant, Steve. He joined at 17, rose through the ranks and played rugby union.

Very well.

At High School his team went undefeated for four whole years, then joining the RAF he represented the Service, and lead the Combined Services team in a match against the All Blacks. He was the last serviceman to be selected to play for the Barbarians.

After playing, he coached. Coached wherever he was posted to, and being a Rugger Bugger, lived life to the full. And being a fellow Armourer too upped the ante even further.

He was a Father too, and left behind to grown up daughters and his wife.

I was going to go to the funeral in Weston Super Mare, but it would have cost £270 to travel there and back in a day on the train, or as much to stay in hotels.

So I watched online, via a link.

It is the modern way.

So, the day was the build up to half twelve when it began, and then the aftermath when it finished just after one.

I was washed out, so sat on the sofa with Scully and watched Bangers and Cash, missing an hour's worth when my eyes grew too heavy and I dozed.

After work, Jools went to the physio in Canterbury to have her shoulder assessed, so she brought KFC back upon her return at eight.

I had raised two or three drams in Steve's memory by then, and then sent down two St. Bernardus to keep them and supper company.

Barrel was indeed a legend, and we'll not see the like of him again.

Comrade, friend, boss.

Monday 10th February 2025

Scully has diabetes, which requires monitoring. And regular check ups, which is why I am taking Jools into town to meet with Sean so they can go to work together, and I have to car for the midday appointment.

UP at half five, time for coffee before leaving the house at ten past six, out into the steady rain and out to the south east, no sign of dawn.

So down Jubilee Way and along the promenade to the Best Western where Jools gets out, and I turn round and go for home.

Scully was crazy hungry, but she has had breakfast and her morning jab, so she just had to accept it, and so she goes to sleep.

And I go to work, or start work once the office is set up.

We have a department meeting at nine, talking about how to improve things. I really should have said some more staff would be nine, but button my lip

At half eleven, I grab Scully and put her in the caged box, then drive us to Whitfield with her singing all the way.

We have to wait half an hour, then she was weighed: up to 4.2 Kg, I think 200g increase in a week, and then a blood test.

And that cost £58.

Back in the car to drive home, have breakfast of strawberry jam sandwiches with salt and vinegar crisps: my favourite. I had nipped to Tesco earlier for supplies.

So, Scully sleeps on the sofa once it is clear there is no lunch, and I get working some more.

Outside the rain falls harder from darker clouds than ever. I put the table lamp back on so I could see.

The day faded and turned to an early dark night. I get a message to pick up Jools at ten past five from martin Mill, so drive out into the rain, down Station Road, across the main road and to the station.

Then back gain where lunch is burgers and beer.

After clearing up there is, of course, football. I watch half-heartedly until half nine, and I let my legs take me up the wooden hill.

Sunday 9th February 2025

The weather forecast was not wrong.

It hoofed it down from dawn to dusk, and beyond. There seemed little point to be dropped off in Folkestone for two hours so I could have a hair cut, but then have to shelter from the rain somewhere, and the pubs didn't open until midday.

So I called the trip off.

Jools was to meet an old friend, Leanne, on Samphire Hoe for a walk and chat. Instead she came here for tea and a chat.

We got up late, had coffee, fed the cats, had breakfast. Had second coffee and second breakfast of bacon butties, all before Leanne came round just before eleven.

We all chatted abut life, the universe and everything, drank yet more tea, and outside the rain fell down still.

Leanne left just before the footy started, and yet I didn't watch most of the fist game. Or the second, as I watched Ireland play Scotland at Murrayfield instead. And an altogether much better game than the England on the day before.

As I was watching that, Plymouth (bottom of the Championship) beat Liverpool (top of the Premier League) 1-0.

So it goes.

Then it was Villa v Spurs. Ending 2-1, but Villa should have had half a dozen.

We had cake in the afternoon, then I defrosted ragu and cooked some pasta for dinner.

A good, if quiet and dull day.

Saturday 8th February 2025

And again, once the weekend rolls round, the rain clouds gather and it does pisseth it down.

If Saturday was cold, grey and damp, the promise is that Sunday will be worse.

Well, that's just peachy.

Being a Saturday, there is hunter-gathering once the first coffee had been drunk. And the news was that the shop was pretty quiet, so I tear round, get stuff off the list, and back home for breakfast and put the rest of the shopping away.

It is now the second week of February, and we have done very little with our weekends this year so far, so I say let's go looking for snowdrops and crocuses.

Closest place for wild snowdrops is Waldershare church, where the churchyard is semi-wild, though a volunteer has taken it on and it is much tidier than in previous years, and she has got DDC coming in once every three months.

There are many clumps of snowdrops, but more yet to flower, so I snap a few of the best, talk more to the lady, and we slide back to the car on the plentiful mud.

I take the cross-county way through Coldred, Lydden, Acrise to Lyminge. Up and down the undulating countryside, along narrow and partly flooded lanes.

Lyminge church sits on a hill from which the Nailbourne springs. The Romans were here, and so were the Saxons. An early Christian princess, St Ethelburga was canonised, and the church is dedicated to her, though she shares it with Mary now.

The remains of her Saxon church were excavated in 2019, and now the path over it has coloured patterns showing the church's footprint.

The churchyard is extensive, and full of snowdrops, crocuses and a few primroses just about opening among and on the graves.

We park up and chat with a guy who is there to clear the paths and I tell him of the history of the church and the wildflowers that can be seen.

Jools and I walk up the path, under the single flying buttress, over the ruins of the Saxon chapel, and into the graveyard; flowers were everywhere, looking splendid even on a dull and dank day.

I take shots and we take the scene in before walking bac down and onto the High Street, down to St Etheburga's Well, and the bubbling waters of the Nailbourne that flowed from the grassy bank.

We walked back to the car alongside the moss covered wall, to the church car park, then back along the Elham Valley Road back to the motorway and then to home.

Once back home I boil some potatoes, then once they had dried, popped them in bubbling hot duck fat to be roasted. Two beef pies were cooked and vegetables steamed.

We ate at two, with cup football on the tellybox/computer. It was a splendid lunch.

I failed totally to keep awake sitting on the sofa with Scully. I lost an hour, in that one moment it was quarter past three, next it was into the second half.

Norwich drew with Derby in a non-Derby game, there were many cup games, and then eyes down for the Rugby with England v France, which was error-strewn with England scoring the winning try in the last minute.

There was yet two more cup games on TV, and I bailed watching Brighton v Chelsea proving that there can be too much football.

Apparently.

Friday 7th February 2025

Life is getting back to normal, although Jools skipped yoga, obviously, but her shoulder is getting better each day now.

Which is good news.

I set the alarm to make sure I was up in time to do the bins and all the faff before work, but lay in bed for twenty minutes listening to the wind and rain outside.

Jools had fed the cats, coffee was made, and once the bins and other rubbish put outside, on with work.

As usual, there is the usual swarm of meetings, as I try to catch up on past reports and statuses.

A mix of good and bed news, really.

Jools was dressed and drove to Samphire Hoe for a walk, so to be out of my hair for a couple of hours. By the time she came back I was wrapping up the last meeting, one last phone call and that was that.

Smashed it.

We have a pasty for lunch, then drove to Jen's for the first card session since before Christmas.

It was good to get playing again and catch up on news from John, though that was tempered by the fact he scooped the jackpot just as dusk fell and he needed to get home.

In out kitty with only have a few coppers left. We only play for pennies, but it nice to win occasionally.

Back home to make fritters for dinner and to have them cooked and eaten before the start of the quiz at six.

I don't do well, but again, good to catch up with friends.

Then there was Man Utd on the tellybox, playing bad as usual, but scoring n the last minute to beat Leicester.

Thursday 6th February 2025

It has taken a week, but there were signs that Jools's shoulder was improving. Though that would only become clearer through the day.

She had toyed with the idea of going back Thursday, as there was a supplier visit on, but thought better of it. As it turned out, she might have been able to go in, but it could have set her back, so instead she is off now until Monday, and still won't drive.

We so wanted to get up on time, or intended to, but it was twenty past six when we did wake, and pale light was already showing round the edges of the curtains.

Too clod and windy for her to go for a walk, so she went upstairs to cross stitch, read and pass the time away as I worked on down in the living room.

The days are now running out, and while others have future activities to plan for, I do not. Only one last trip to head office for a not-so-secret party that's being arranged.

I am going to meet lots of former colleagues and friends, it will be a joy, maybe bittersweet all the same.

I nip to Tesco to get some lunch, fruit and pasta. I spend fifty quid, which seemed amazing, but less to buy at the weekend.

I suppose.

Back home for a meeting, then prepare the fruit and yogurt, make a fresh coffee and we eat.

The cats are still not happy with eating in a one hour window, twice a day. This is ensure Scully's insulin have maximum effect, so no snacking to allow the insulin to work.

And working it is, water consumption is well down, which is what sparked our worry in the first place.

I make Rubens for lunch, with sliced beef, mustard and pickles, and are very good indeed.

Later in the day I make Italian lentils with pasta; a hearty meal to which I add sausages. Its all done in about 90 minutes, and it another triumph, and not bad for a first attempt.

We have cider/wine with dinner. Then wash up and have a coffee, before Spurs played Liverpool in the League Cup.

Ended 4-0 to Liverpool, and was a grim performance from Spurs. Pity the 5,500 fans who made the trip.

Its a long way back.

Wednesday 5th February 2025

Spring is coming.

Not only with this, but three Winter aconites have now flowered in the lawnmeadow. Drops of golden sunshine scattered among the worm cats and clumps of sleeping grass.

Jools woke, hoping her should might be getting better and allowing her to return to work on light duties on Thursday. Sadly, it was little better.

So she kept up the regime of ice and rest, and though the day there was some improvement, but always the sharp jab of pain if she moved her arm too far in a particular direction.

At work it was the end of year results, and we are to get a bonus, which will be paid with my last full month's pay.

Which is nice.

No news on how much it will be, but it will be quite substantial.

At least in our eyes, and an unexpected windfall before we retire.

I get some rolls out of the freezer so we can have bacon butties for lunch, though there is little else, I hope to prevent me from going to Tesco every day. Every other day is OK.

Not much else to report at work, so I finish at three, try to stay awake before preparing dinner.

Crunchy cubed potatoes with Parmesan cheese, garlic granules and chopped rosemary, to go with the rest of the leftover Côte de boeuf, pan fried in garlic butter, and served with more creamed spinach and a portion of Boston beans.

Readers, it was glorious. As was the remainder of the XV I drained from the half filled bottle.

Newcastle played Arse in the League Cup semi-final. Already 2-0 up from the away leg in London, they dominated the second leg and won 2-0 again, to win the tie 4-0 overall. Was this the same Arse that beat Citeh 5-1 three days earlier?

Your daily constitutional

It has been said that what the UK needs is a codified constitution, like the US has, where all the checks and balances and limits are in one place, rather than as it is with the constitution being defined over hundreds of years and thousands of acts of law, written on vellum scrolls.

It is just two weeks since Donald Judas Trump took office for the second time, and depsite having a codiefied constitution stating clearly what can and cannot be done, he is driving a coach and horses through the very thig he swore to uphold.

Four years ago, the constitution and legal framework that underpinned it, just about held and there was a transfer of power. Trump's legal challenges all failed as his legal teams could not state soething in a court of law that was untrue, lest they be debarred.

I'm talking to you, Rudy.

Since then, many checks and balances have been removed at State level, and in the Supreme Court, while the legal process to convict Trump stared to late and ran out of time.

In fact, the political process should have been enough. Had the GOP followed conventions and impeached Trump. But after Trump incited a riot that was going to lynch the vice-Presdent, the GOP cosed ranks and followed the felon.

In short, a constitution is only as strong as the mechinisms that ensure it is followed, and with judges wavering in enforcing the very laws Trump is breaking, the consitition becomes less meaningful.

THe UK's is not perfect, but under attack by Johnson in trying to force his Brexit deal through, the constitution survived, and in the end breaking conventions of the House of Commons, he resigned rather than face the consequences of his actions and lies.

Tuesday 4th February 2025

Tuesday. And Jools is off work, likely the whole week. But we'll see.

First morning we sleep through the alarm to six ten, and its a mad scramble to get ready for work, have coffee and all that, all for seven.

Once I check my mails, I quickly nip to Tesco for some supplies. Mainly something for lunch, and a few other things. Tesco has a few schoolkids in, heading to the nearest academy, but the rest of the shop away from the meal deals, was pretty empty.

Back home by eight, and so we have coffee and breakfast, then Jools puts on ice pack to bring the swelling down. In fact she has a series of packs which mean there is one on her sore shoulder pretty much all day.

It goes without saying. she is fed up with the whole situation, and has to accept that she really can't do that much other than read or snooze. Even cross-stitch hurt a little, at least until the ice packs and drugs kicked in.

We have bacon butties for lunch, while I carry on working. I have less than 35 days to do. Maybe even less than that, and can hear the clock ticking away very loudly.

The day fades away. I pack up the work computer and we have a coffee and a wad.

I defrost some chilli for dinner. Cook some rice, and serve with beers/cider and some tortillas to give the meal some crunch.

Its pretty darn good even if I say so myself. As the cook.

Jools heads to bed early, worn out, so I listen to football on the headphones and sip a wee dram or two.

Monday 3rd February 2025

Quite a day for a Monday.

Jools's shoulder had been bad all weekend, but we didn't think for a moment she shouldn't drive to work, even when I had to help her get dressed.

Maybe we should have been more realistic about it, but she went to work in the car, leaving me with Jon's car, as Scully was off to the vet.

I had put her in the porch the previous evening, and she stayed there all night, as she wasn't to eat until I dropped her off at the vet's so her blood sugars could be monitored.

The other cats were wary, what with one of them in cat prison and making a heck of a lot of noise about being banged up again.

I worked for an hour, then scooped Scully out of the porch, popped her in the box and loaded her in the car for the quick run to Whitfield.

Thankfully, not much traffic about, and I got a parking slot just outside the door to the surgery. We had to wait 15 minutes for the nurse, and after signing a form, Scully is taken from me and Jools was to collect her about four.

Back home for breakfast and down to work, getting stuff done until about half twelve when Jools messaged me to say that her employers would not let her drive, and that she was being taken to the physio in Canterbury, but would be stuck.

She would get a bus back, then to Whitfield but then how to get Scully and Jools back from there.

Once Jools was on the bus to Dover, I called a cab, and for £38 took me to Hythe to the factory to collect the car.

The taxi came, and we had a pleasant twenty minute chat as he took me up the A20, then over the downs into Hythe, dropping me off outside the factory gates.

Some twat had parked their Audi so close to ours, the driver's door would not open, so I got in the other side and climbed over, just glad that my shoes were clean.

Out the gates and along the seafront, past the Imperial, down and past the swimming pool before getting back onto the main road, then up and over, back over the downs to the motorway.

It was just before rush hour started, so easily turned to take the Alkham Valley road, no sign of the Drellingore flowing, so into Temple Ewell, then up Whitfield hill to the vets.

Scully was ready. A day in a cage, monitoring and ten days insulin came to £260. This is the new normal.

I took her to the car, along with the supplies, then back home in the gathering gloom of a winter's dusk, and to home.

Jools was back. She has done something to a tiny part of her shoulder, too inflamed to have much done, but she has extra ice packs, and hopefully that and stronger drugs would help.

I warmed up some ragu and cooked pasta for dinner, all done in half an hour. Scully was fed and I gave her an insulin jab. She didn't complain.

However, from now on there will no food left out, so no grazing, so that Scully eats as hours apart so the insulin is delivered equally.

This brought some complaints through the evening.