Monday 7th April 2025

Up at half five, so to wake up, pack, shower, then go down for breakfast for another buffet meal at half seven, so to be ready for wheels at quarter to eight.

The bus was waiting, so we loaded our cases into the trunk, then climbed onboard and waited for the others. And once all on board, the bus moved off, ramming every speed bump and pot hole, and out onto the main road.

Through a park, where whole families were sleeping under plastic sheeting, then into the traffic, to much honking of horns.

We drive for half an hour through the suburbs of Delhi, turning this way and that, always with the honking of horns, until we came to the “expressway”.

This took us out into the countryside, as the city thinned out, but already new commuter railways stations had been built, in preparation for new areas of housing.

The day was sunny, but hazy due to smog, so the fields and trees meted into the brown haze in the middle distance.

Then onto the motorway, across fields, now at harvest time were families gather in their corn, making little sheaves, and once dried, the sheaves were stacked into hayricks. Mile after mile, hour after hour, the same scene.

Only broken at one town where there were dozens of brickworks, marked by elongated kiln chimneys belching black smoke. Oher bricks were laid in long lines to dry and harden in the sun.

We came in time to Agra, turning off the motorway and straight into a busy shopping street, and along in heavy traffic until we came to the hotel, crossing six lanes of traffic and entering the heavy sliding gates, to more air-conditioned luxury.

In the lobby we were bedecked with garlands of flowers, and given frozen fruit juice, while our check in was done.

Another huge room awaited us, with queen bed, air con and basket of fruit. Just half an hour before lunch, and another buffet meal, with selections of curries, dahls and rice to choose from, as well as salad, fruit and a large selection of deserts.

After lunch, the others went birding in the hotel grounds. It was climbing close to forty degrees, and too warm for us, so here I am writing.

At four we meet up in the lobby to head out for a viewpoint the other side of the river from the Taj, this will involve a long coach trip along narrow streets, clogged with all sorts of traffic, and again to the soundtrack of two thousand horns.

The tip was worth it on its own, gaudy neon lit shops, to stalls and shacks set up in the gutter, and all along, tuk-tuks pulling up to pick up or drop of passengers, and mad motorcyclists and moped riders trying to get through the narrowest of gaps.

It was an amazing free show.

We came to the view point, with a mile walk from the car park to the park, and in the late afternoon heat past beggars, hawkers and stalls selling pop and cold water along with endless tat.

Through the park and through a small wood, with monkeys and small striped squirrels scattering, clambering onto a low and wide wall, there was the Taj in the late afternoon sun.

Jools arrived, flushed and overheating as she had not worn her hat. I gave her my water as well as her own, and sitting in the shade for 45 minutes she began to feel better.

The sun went down, we got shots, then ambled back to the car, all of us stopping to buy ice cold drinks from the shack, then along the road, nearly a mile to the bus park, past a huge park where young men were playing rough cricket in the gathering dusk.

Onto the bus, air con to full, and we lurch off once again, back the way we came, though this time in darkness. Quite how more people are not killed is beyond me.

Neon lit up the night, bells clanged in shrines, and families strode around looking for bargains, or young men looking for young women. Back along to the bridge, then over the river as its still surface mirrored the pastel sky, and into darkness the other side, as the headed back to the hotel.

Horns redoubled as the coach bounced along the rough roads, round the big roundabout near the main entrance to the Taj, before turning sharp left into the hotel grounds, where there was still time for dinner.

Though we were hot and bothered, we ate and drank, but soon bed was calling, as it seemed bright idea to get up the next morning early to catch wheels at five and see sunrise from beside the Taj Mahal.

Sunday 6th April 2025

We landed, and by the time we taxied to the terminal, and all the other stuff, it as ten before we got off, then walking miles and miles to the immigration hall, where more forms to fill in, biometric data taken, and then we could present ourselves, our passports, our visas and declaration form for scrutiny, and then after stamping the passport, we were allowed in.

We had to wait at baggage claim for the others, our bags were already waiting, then we could all go into the arrivals hall and look for our agent.

Who wasn’t there.

At first.

We he did arrive, he led us outside, into the blistering heat, along a walkway to a booth to wait for the bus to arrive. The others were thrilled to have a family of Minah birds close to photograph. I skipped this.

Our vintage bus arrived, we loaded the bags on board, climbed up the steps and into the seats. The air con was turned up to full, and we moved off.

The exit was through well manicured gardens and lawns, with a small army of guys snipping and strimming. This was as a contrast to when a few minutes later, we left through the main gate and onto a main road, which was lined with litter-strewn verges and scrub. In some places worse than others, but where back, was terrible.

Also terrible was the traffic, with a cacophony of horns soundtracking this, and I suspect every, journey. With cars, buses, trucks, tuk-tuks and mopeds all vying for space on the road.

The bus hit every pot hole and gap in areas of the road, juddering us all the time.

Each junction the bus forced its way out, to yet more horn toots.

We saw every aspect of modern Indian life on the way, from those living under bridges or in parks, people with stalls selling brightly coloured crisps and bottles of pop, to houses and mansions.

All to a soundtrack of angry horns.

We arrived at the hotel, lurching across two lanes of traffic as the security gates opened, and we entered air-conditioned luxury.

We had to do nothing, except walk off the buss into the hotel, our luggage was carried for us, we just had to identify ours and it was taken to our rooms, we were given a drinks, and all the while, all staff bowed to us.

The lobby was huge, all gleaming marble and fresh flower displays. While we waited to be allocated rooms, we went for lunch, which as I also suspect will be every meal, a buffet.

Dahl, curry, vegetables and fruit for desert. All very tasty.

Noting planned for the afternoon, so once we had our room keycards, we went upstairs, and like the others in our group, tried to sleep for a few hours.

We woke at half five, sun was setting and we were party rested. A shower and change of clothes helped make us feel human again, so at half six we could go down to meet the others and go for dinner.

It was happy hour in the bar, buy one, get one free, so the beers went down well, before we went back to the restaurant for another buffet meal.

Back into the bar, where we made friends with a former New York City judge, John, who is on a Grand Tour of India, Nepal and Greece. In the background, the IPL played out, with players from round the world in snazzy kits smashing the ball all over the place.

It looked exciting.

We went to bed at half ten, with me clutching a free beer the barman insisted I was owed, hiding it from the duty manager who had a gaze like Medussa.

Saturday 5th April 2025

I am writing this on Monday afternoon, here in Agra. So, I will try to write about what passed since I last wrote, Friday evening.

Saturday, we decided to begin by going out for breakfast, down in the town at Chaplins, so to fil ourselves up for the day so not need to eat until we got to the airport.

Town is very quiet now, but very much so at just gone eight, parking near to the church, then waking through to the café. The regulars were already in, or came soon after, swapping news on their latest ailments.

We ordered big breakfasts and a pot of tea, then looked out of the window until the food came. It did indeed fill us up. But then it was down to business.

Back home to drop me off so I could pack and have a shower, while Jools took Sylv shopping so she could eat when we were gone.

Time was now a valuable commodity, and it was falling through our fingers quickly.

Jools came back and we did the last of the tasks, so at midday we could have a brew before Jen and Sylv came at one, Jen would take us to Worth where we were to meet John and the others on the tour.

Our cases and us just fitted into Jen’s small hatchback, and once we were al in and the doors secure, we lurched off back to Whitfield then along the Sandwich Road to Worth.

Another glorious spring day, with another week of such expected, it seemed sad to be leaving the country, but it would be a good trip.

We hope.

We unloaded the car, said goodbye to Jen and Sylv, then just wait for the others and the taxi to arrive.

By two we were all waiting, the taxi came and the eight of us and our luggage just fitted inside. Two hours to Heathrow, the sat nav said.

Not much to tell about the journey, other than the roads were pretty clear, we had no holdups, so arrived at the airport just before half four.

We unloaded the taxi, walked into the terminal, checked our bags, and because we had upgraded to business, we had our own desk, got a fast track through security, then had a fifteen minute walk to the B Gates to the United Lounge where we had access.

Free beer, cider and wine went with the buffet, we ate well, and so time passed.

With the flight departing at half eight, the gate wouldn’t be announced until half seven, which could have meant a long walk back to the main terminal building, but as luck would have it, B37 was the first gate out of the lounge, so once it was announced, we were the first there.

We were not alone for long, and soon several hundred people were milling around. The inbound flight was delayed, so ours was too, but again as business passengers we were in the first group on, and once on board turned left instead of right to get our super-duper seats/booths.

It was all very nice, but as I don’t watch films, the super-large screen was unused, and with all the blankets, pillows, sheets, slippers, pyjamas and so on you get given, there was little room to move, let alone use the alcove for your feet which allows you to lay down.

We took off 45 minutes late, and despite having huge numbers of staff, dinner took two hours to arrive, and I had to ask twice for a second glass of wine.

The lights were dimmed and so we all tried to go to sleep, but for me I could not get comfortable, and got too hot, so was restless, which also meant I kept knocking buttons on the side of the seat turning the TV or the lights on.

Jools did go to sleep, and I guess I must have had an hour or so, but then went back to reading Enigma.

The flight was just seven hours, and before long the dawn began to show on the horizon, and in time the lights were put back up and breakfast was served, if you were hungry.

Two weeks on

I have shed the baggage from 15 years in the wind industry like a snake shedding skin.

Each shedding leaves less trace of what has come before, and what was once important, is no longer.

I do not miss the work or the company. I do miss my colleagues.

I downloaded Teams so we could call, but calling is not possible, so we swap messages. And we have also facetimed.

I have realised that what is still important to my former colleagues is more of the same old, same old story.

And I have no time to listen to it now.

It made me realise that leaving was the right thing to do, as what irked me these last four years still has not been improved.

They carry on fighting the good fight.

I surrendered, and sheathed my sword of truth and justice.

And it feels good.

My work life balance is now perfect.

Friday 4th April 2025

Dancing Ledge and Dorset gets their Early Spiders a good couple of weeks before Kent. And with us travelling on Saturday, Friday was the last chance for me to see a UK Hardy Orchid before May.

Jools went to yoga first thing, while I laid in bed to half six, then up to do the bins and the other chores.

We had much more planned, but there is only so much we can do, so Jools decided to skip aquafit, and so I was able to go to Samphire Hoe to check on the orchids.

We have breakfast first, and then I am gone, driving into town then up the A20 before turning off.

Samphire Hoe is well known for these orchids, but it is bedevilled with keen westerlies that stunts growth until the weather really warms up.

But there is one spot, under the lea of the cliffs that creates its own microclimate, and allows a few spikes to be earlier than the main colony.

Even so, it was a faint hope that after parking, I set off down the sea wall, chatting to the lone fisherman who had the same views regarding his chances as mine.

Another chap, a twitcher, was watching the cliffs, looking for Black redstarts and Peregrines. I ask if he minded if I went to the cliffs . He was laid back, so I approached the chaky steps and the narrow passageway.

Every winter the colony is bombarded with rocks from above, buring the previous season's plants. I go to the far end, then shuffle back, seeing no orchids.

Until about 10m up, a single small spike, with open flower was seen.

I could have tried to clim the scree slope, but could have fallen of trampled other plants, so I took a shot and that was that.

I walked back, and shared the finds with the two guys, then walked back to the site offices and beyond to the overflow car park, where I saw a single rosette last month.

I failed to find it again, and the warden then appeared and told me there were no spikes in flower along the path, thus saving me a long walk.

So, a check of another little-known spot, I walked back to the car and drove back to the tunnel.

Back home so Jools could take Scully back to the vets for another seventy quid check up, then I make lunch of pancakes with the leftover pudding batter.

And then to Jen's for an afternoon of cards with added Sylv adding great distraction. A single round of Meld took nearly three hours, as I predicted, and by then it was time to go to collect the pizza for early supper, so we could get home to jab Scully then pack.

We are just about set. We should have everything we need, if not, its too late now.

Thursday 3rd April 2025

Thursday.

And a day, part-filled with chores.

I now set the alarm for half six, and even if I don't leap out of bed right away, I am awake, meaning fair game for Mulder who comes to say hello and meow in my face.

Hello, handsome boy.

I get up, we have coffee, and then go to the gym for a session on the bikes. I up a level and really push myself, so do my best session since we started going. The new tax year has seen the cost of a session increase from £9 to £13, which is rather more than the rate of inflation.

Back home for breakfast, then into town for a haircut at one of the many Turkish barbers that have sprung up.

I am shorn, then with some lighted wick thing he burns the fuzz off from and on my ears.

And is done.

There is little else to do down town, other than get a haircut, there are vape shops, charity shops. And even WH Smith is either going to close or be rebranded now the chain has been sold.

Will Boots be next?

I walk back to the car and drive back home, making bacon butties when I get in as we try to use most of the stuff from the fridge.

The first suitcase is packed, and so with the afternoon stretching out, I watch more Bangers and Cash, while Jools makes a crochet gorilla.

Which she finishes in the evening, now it sits on the stairs,mournfully judging us as we walk round it.

I go for a walk round the neighbourhood, mainly to check on the colony of Coltsfoot on Collingwood, which as I suspected have been attacked by one householder with herbicide, but a few spikes survive among the small bed next to the path, which I snap.

Dinner is toad-in-the-hole: A Yorkshire Pudding with sausages in. Came out not so good, but good enough when paired with the ultra-crispy roast potatoes and steamed vegetables.

There is football, the last Prem game I will watch until May. Chelsea beat Spurs, and while it burbles to itself, I check us in for our flight on Saturday.

Its getting close.

Wednesday 2nd April 2025

Apparently, its Wednesday.

Yes, already, just my second week into retirement and I have no idea what day of the week t it.

We had planned to return to the gym, but other chores meant that was put back 24 hours, so we could go shopping in Tesco and then go to see Jen and Sylv afterwards.

Tesco at just gone nine was pretty empty, so we might come again at that time. We buy stuff for lunch for Wednesday and Thursday, then go to Jen's to arrange with her and Sylv the final details of operation cat-sit.

Jen had gon with John to the tip, but Sylv was there, blow-drying her hair.

We have a good chat, and a brew. Jen and John return, cards is arranged for Friday, then we set sail for home and breakfast.



Another bright, sunny but cold day, with the biting wind cutting through and making being outside really difficult. We have bacon butties for lunch, then I watch Bangers and Cash whilst Jools carries on crocheting a gorilla toy for Sean and Ange's grand-daughter.

The afternoon passes slowly.

In the background there is always the preparation for the trip to India, washing and packing and preparing.

Dinner was chorizo hash, again. Another triumph, of course.

And then the Merseyside Derby, Liverpool v Everton on the tellybox.

And wine to drink.

Tariffs

Back in 2016, I quickly learned, thanks to Brexit, that anyone who talked about trade solely in terms of tariffs, really didn't understand trade at all.

So far, so Brexit.

But Donald Judas Trump has been pbsessed with tariffs for decades, and so yesterday, he fulfilled his dream of imposing tariffs on the entire world, but not Russia.

After the announcement, some people cleaver than myself did calculations and showed that the barriers other countries had supposedly imposed on the US were totally wrong. So, how did Trump get his figures?

"The Trump administration calculated "tariff rates" by taking the US trade deficit with the respective country and dividing it by the country's exports to the US. And then the tariff rate of the US is often just set by cutting that made-up "tariff rate" in half."

"Furthermore, the Trump admin only used the trade deficit in goods. And if the US balance of trade with a country is roughly even (or trade deficit to imports is less than 10%), the tariff rate is listed as 10%."

And whchever database the administration took the list of countries from, it seems the US have acknowelgded Taiwan for the first time, and :

"He has introduced a 10% tariff on the British Indian Ocean Territory.

The only inhabited island there is Diego Garcia, home to US service personnel.

TRUMP HAS PUT A TARIFF ON A US MILITARY BASE!"

Trump also imposed 10% tariffs on Heard Island in the Antarctic, inhabited only by penguins, and therefore has no exports or imports with the US or anyone else.

To quote Bernstein:

"The truth is, these are not very bright guys, and things got out of hand.”

Tuesday 1st April 2025

Being retired means going orchiding when you feel like it.

Not just orchiding, of course. But going to the gym, doing the garden or whatever.

Although I knew it was unlikely to see any orchids in flower, a walk in the woods is never wasted.

So, after another lay in to half seven, then up for coffee and breakfast before we go out just before ten.

I drop Jools off in Lydden so she could visit a friend, and I could drive to the orchid fields of east Kent.

Onto the A2 then down through Bridge, and again through the woods and fruit farms to Hardres, down Stone Street before turning off.

Don the narrowest of narrow lanes, there is a small parking space, allowing room for a couple of cars, and access to one of the gates into the reserve of Yockletts.

I know the reserve well, the long slow climb in the open gallop to the lower meadow, where I pause to take in the scene and look for Green Hairstreaks, which have been reported elsewhere on the wing.

But not here. Last year's grass is faded green, and little sign of this year's.

Down then to the area round a fallen tree where the Fly Orchids grow thick. There was a good half dozen well developed spikes. None now or before the weekend will flower.

Up the slope to the top track so I could check on the two large Lady Orchid rosettes, well developed again, but with no spikes.

Everywhere is a carpet of amemonies, bluebells and primroses, its glorious. And although no butterflies were seen, the air is full of birdsong.

Over The Gogway, and pausing to snap the Townhall Clock plants, now struggling in open sunlight now the trees and scrub has been cut back, then up the slope to the upper meadow.

Numbers of orchids are well down. Only Early Purple were in the bluebell wood, Fly were only visible where numbers are hight, and Lady Orchids were restricted to a few places.

Yes, its early, but there should be more rosettes than these.

I stop at the upper meadow after the climb, usually butterflies sweep by frequently. But not today.

But Dark-boarded Bee-flies are everywhere, though skittish, I do get a couple of series of shots.

The rest of the reserve is closed due to Ash die back, so I turn back down the slope, over the lane and back up through the woods to the car.

Nearing the car, I disturb a Peacock sunning itself on the path, and that in turn disturbed a Small Tortoiseshell, the first I have seen for 21 months, rses into the air, then comes back down and settles to bask.

I get shots.

It was then a hundred yards back to the car, and time to go to pick Jools up as she walked along the main road from Lydden to Temple Ewell.

We thought we would go out for lunch, and after a few suggestions, we went to The Plough in Ripple where we hoped to have a sandwich or Ploughmans.

But things have changed, the Ripple Steam Brewery has closed, so the pub is no longer a taphouse, nor does it do food. So, we made do with a beer and some crisps and pork scratchings.

Back home for lunch and a refreshing brew, before an afternoon of gardening and Bangers and Cash while the sun headed west and there was a strong chill in air, chill enough to warrant putting the heating on.

We had dirty burgers and beer for supper, while the house warmed up. Easy to forget that despite it looking and feeling like spring, it can still snow this time of the year.

Football in the evening, with Man Utd being the fall guys yet again.