Friday 30th May 2025

Somehow its Friday again.

How'd that happen?

I woke up to hear Jools leaving for yoga, so I leap up, get dressed and go do the bins, fill up the feeders, make coffee then go and sit on the patio with Scully.

She purrs her happiness.

It is a fine day. The wind dropped and felt much warmer.

Which is nice.

Once Jools returned, we had breakfast, and I nipped to Folkestone to check on the LSO on the downs, so that friends who were leading a tour over the weekend had something to show guests there. Four spikes, two in position to snap.

I called Jon to relay the good news.

By this time Jools had walked to the village library for her craft class/chat, so it was down to me once home to round Scully up to take her to the vet for her monthly check up.

The little bugger heard the box catch opening, and made a break for it. But a few minutes sitting on the bench brought her to me, so I scooped her up, and popped her in the box, then the box into the car, and off to Whitfield.

And then an hour's wait.

And. She is a conundrum. Blood sugar too high to read, though she is perky, she is always hungry and lost another 100g in a month.

Up the dose in the morning, and that'll be £110 please.

I'm in the wrong game, clearly.

So, I paid and we came home, where upon getting out the car we fed Scully.

And that was that.

I listened to podcasts sitting on the patio through the afternoon.

Which is much better than work.

Obvs.

As we were sitting, I saw three Painted Ladies feeding on the Ox-eyed daisies swaying in the garden, so grab a camera and go chasing, capturing one pretty darn good, even if I say so myself.

Dinner is carbonara and the last of the focaccia bread and red wine.

I warmed the bread in the oven, so was as good as fresh.

And finally, a relaxing evening, the music quiz and an early night, as a hard day's orchiding beckoned.

Thursday 29th May 2025

I think we have achieved normality.

Normality in the sense that we felt well enough to go to the gym.

Needless to say, I laid in to twenty five past seven, and it would have been all too easy to bin phys, but after coffee, I put on my pumps and shorts, and off we went.

I did 30 minutes on the level i reached at the start of last week. I won't say it was enjoyable, but I did complete the thirty minutes, something which appeared impossible twenty minutes before.

We went home and had breakfast, sitting on the patio.

I had a shower, got dressed, and then it was a case of twiddling our fingers until quarter past twelve, as we attended another leaving party.

Jools's old boss, Andy, had been offered a package, and had accepted it. So, we were to attend the leaving "do" drinks in Hythe, although I knew almost no one there.

The Tree Mariners is a fine old pub, a former Shepherd Neame, judging by the artwork outside, but with a good choice of ales.

I had a pint before those from Woodings appeared, before I switched to Coke, thus allowing Jools to drink Weston's Vintage Cider.

People queued up to shake Jools's hand, or give her a hug, making it slightly embarrassing, as it was supposed to be Andy's day.

Andy has been through hell, really. Four years ago diagnosed with bone cancer as his back disintegrated. But he recovered, and came back to work, between relapses. His eyes tell a hard story, but he smiled, weakly.

There was much mirth and laughter, a pub on a workday lunchtime, and the tab picked up by the MD.

But come quarter to two, all had left, just leaving Jools and I and Andy. We chatted, and then said goodbye, we went home over the downs to Folkestone and back home, then spent the rest of the afternoon trying to stay awake.

We feasted on dinner of chicken Kyiv, salad and roast potatoes. Which worked well. Very crispy spuds.

The sun came out and it looked like summer, even if it didn't feel like it.

Nine weeks on

I have been retired for nine weeks now, and the reality of it still hasn't sunk in.

In fact its like a huge holiday, and that work and normality will return shortly.

The first two weeks were preparing for the India trip: going to Bury to collect Sylv, then getting the last of our supplies.

Next up was the trip itself, 25 days away.

After was fixing the jetlag, unpacking, washing and getting back on with the four cats.

A night in that London for Danny Backer and football.

Going back up to Bury to help Jen drive back home, and be back in Kent so we could go to Norfolk for the wedding last weekend.

In short, there has been something, sometimes lots to do, with days between where we go out looking for orchids, or whatever.

I have no idea whether retirement is bad thing, it feels like a good thing to be honest. We don't have to do shopping on Saturdays, play cards on Friday, we can do it other days/times.

At the moment, it seems that retirement is better than work. I have no stress, sleep nine hours at night, and relaxed as heck during the day. But that's what being able to go for pub lunches at a drop of a hat is pretty good.

Wednesday 28th May 2025

Another day in paradise.

Or Chez Jelltex.

And the plan had been to go to the gym, but Jools had another class down in town, did I want to be dropped off at the sports centre?

No.

Instead I stayed home, Drank my coffee and then had a shower, shave and put on a fresh set of clothes, then came down for breakfast and to ignore Scully's demands for food as the insulin takes effect.

I am off to the vet's with her on Friday and I will find out again about feeding her outside meal times when she also gets her insulin jabs.

But for the time being, her plaintive meows for kitty kibbles must go without response.

The weather did improve from previous days, and got better as the day went on. I did chase an Orange Tip or two around the garden, but it was already too warm for them to settle much, so it was a fruitless task.

There was no more internetting to do, so I sat with Scully on the patio, watching the birds and insects in the garden, the breeze caused the clouds of Ox-eye daisies to sway and look most relaxing.

Jools decided that as we hadn't gone to the gym in the morning, we could go for a walk in the afternoon.

We had lunch, then she set about getting me to commit to a time to go out, as I really didn't fancy it.

We did venture out at half two, and walked along the street to the track, then over the fields.

The nagging doubt I had manifested itself with pins and needles in my feet, and a sore back.

I pressed on to over the field, double the distance I did last time, then we turned for home.

Just as well we did as Jools's foot began to get really sore, so no shame in calling it a day early.

So, back home for a couple of hours before we were to go out.

Again.

Yes, out to the old pub again.

With Sean and Ange, as after our last meal at the Crown in Finglesham, because after our meal there in March and the dreadful service we received, we submitted a complaint and we were given free meals.

Free is our favourite price.

So, across the fields from Ringwould, the sat nav took us through former mining villages out to near to Finglesham, from the top of the down we could see the land falling away and the sea from Ramsgate all the way to Deal, the warming gloaming light making it really quite spectacular.

And the good news is the service was wonderful, greeted at the door by the manager, the drinks order taken at the bar, and our meal request dealt with very quickly, and with regular revisits to ensure that all was god with the food and experience.

We all had burgers with bacon and cheese, then Sean and I shared a cheeseboard while Jools and Ange shared rhubarb and custard profiteroles.

The manager hadn't realised we had come for the free meal, accepted the e mail as proof, and all we had to pay for was drinks.

A top night all round.

Tuesday 27th May 2025

Would have been Mum's 81st birthday.

A day on which we should have done stuff, but instead the wind blew and rain fell.

Also, the car had to go for a lube service, so Jools took it into town, and was gone six hours.

I was left at home looking after the cats and listening to podcasts. As going to India meant we were nearly four weeks behind with what we listen to or read, and so trying to catch up.

Anyway, cold, breezy and then I got a message that the doctor would call me.

I was making focaccia at the time, so did a quick lift and fold and was ready.

Test results: better than he expected, all good other than high blood sugar, so need to cut down on sugar and booze.

And while we're at it, less cheese, red meat and all things fun and tasty.

So it seems.

And so as the wind blew and rain fell, Jools rode on the bus to Canterbury while the car was being done.

Jools came back at half two, the bread was nearly done and could be put into a tin for the final rising. This would go with Caprese, of course.

Come five, the bread was cooked, but really needed ten more minutes, but with herbs on it, was good even if soggy.

Of course there is no football at the moment, so we listen to music before going to bed to read.

Monday 26th May 2025

Bank Holiday Monday.

Every day is now a bank holiday, of course.

Schools are off but most holiday traffic is now at the destination, so this is the pause until folks return home.

There were swimming galas at the pool, so it would be crowded up there at Whitfield, so after a lay in and late start, we did gardening. though, as ever, my heart wasn't really in it, but I clear a wheelie bin for of borage and hedge garlic from the centre beds, leaving lots of room for new plants.

We stop at regular intervals for coffee/tea and sit back to admire our work.

In fact we had just half a day to fill, as we were back playing cards with Jen and John in the afternoon.

Before we left, I made chorizo hash for lunch, so we would not graze on custard creams through the afternoon.

John won heavily, despite moaning all the time how little he had in his hands. I, meanwhile, won very little, and even though we only play for pennies, is still disappointing.

Back home for a recording of the League 2 play off final and supper of cheese, crackers and wine. And the day was done, and Wimbledon promoted.

Just like old times.

Sunday 25th May 2025

For Whit Sunday, there were no plans.

Thankfully.

I had travelled on all of Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday, and all I wanted to do the whole day was rest.

It was a fine, if windy day, got up at just gone seven, had coffee, then breakfast. So was soon after nine, and nothing had been achieved.

Mike arrived soon after ten to put up a fly screen for us. I think I could have done it, but he has the tools, and has done stuff like this for years.

I watched, took mental notes, and hope to be as handy in due course.

Of course, we are all handy in our won ways, and in paying back Mike, we have the chance. There is stuff going on I won't write about, its hard on the family, but we rally together and get through it.

Jools did a tip run getting rid of more garden and cardboard, and soon it is lunchtime.

Of course the afternoon is full of football: first up is the League 1 playoff which saw Charlton beat Orient 1-0, then the final round of games in the Prem, kicking off at four in the afternoon.

And there was the rat.
We keep cats so to keep the vermin under control, but sometimes, when bored and/or hungry, the cats bring vermin in to eat or play with.

Jools and I were eating lunch, when I heard a noise coming from the TV. When I went to ivestigate, it was an adult rat climbing the curtains trying to find a way out.

We have no idea which cat brought it in, but Scully had brought us in two baby rats during the week, so might have been her.

I have no qualms about picking up mice or other small rodents, but rats? No thanks.

So, we tried to coral it, without success, then Jools left the front door open with limited ways it could get about, and during the afternoon, hungry and thirst, the rat came out, sniffed about and found the porch door open, and then the front doo, made its escape

By the time that was done and dusted, it was half six, time for supper and a shower for me.

Of course, no work for Monday, so we talk and I drink whisky into the evening, ging to bed well after ten.

Phew, rock and roll.

Football is broken

Yesterday, the final round of Premier League fixtures kicked off at four in the afternoon, with most of the main issues having been decided weeks ago.

Liverpool became champions when we were still in India on 27th April. And the three relegated teams were confirmed soon afterwards. Arsenal would almost certainly come second behind Liverpool, so the reamining issues were who would finish in 3rd, 4th and 5th, so enter next season's Champions League, who would get the other European places, and who would run out.

TV and fan enjoy the issues being sorted out on a hectic final afternoon, with last minute goals and issues swinging one way and then the other.

But not this year, it was all rather flat, with Sky and the BBC trying to make the scramble for the minor places more exciting than it actuall was.

Truth is only Manchester City or Liverpool have won the title since 2017, that's eight seasons.

I said at the start that as long as Citeh didn't win it again, I wouldn't mind, but another Liverpool title was only slightly better.

At least there was Citeh's mid-season collapse to enjoy, not because I don't like the club, but it ensured they didn't win the title for the 5th season in a row.

Meanwhile at the bottom, the three promoted teams were all relegated, with Southampton close to having the worse season ever, only avoiding that by winning at fellow relagated team, Ipswich.

This is the second season in a row when all three promoted teams have gone straight back down, and with less combined points and goals scored than last year too. Its too soon to say if this a sign of things to come, as the previous time it had happened was 27 years ago.

But the "prize" for escaping the Championship is being beaten in 30 out of 38 games like happened to Southampton, how soon before a club declines promotion?

And what of Sky and the BBC as well as overseas broadcasters covering the self-proclaimed best league in the world? For how much longer will they accept the same teamsd winning, the promoted teams being dreadful, and there being little of any sporting cmpetition over the season? On a game by game basis any team can beat any other, but over the season, cream and money rises to the top.

It has been the absolute failure of Tottenham Hotspur and Manchester United that has brought light relief for those who do not support them. Spurs finished in 17th place, just above the relagation zone, though 13 points above next placed Leicester, and United climbed to 15th through their last day win over Aston Villa. That both clubs played each other last week in the final of the Europa League for a place in next season's Champion's League is very strange to anyone looking in.

Is the interest going forward to ee how bad Manchester United can be, or can Chelsea or Arsenal break the near decade-long stranglehold on the title by Citeh and Liverpool? It is nine years since Leicester won the league, the first first time winners of the English title since Nottingham Forest in 1978, some 36 years previously. How many years will it be before another first time winner triumphs?

And who will keep paying top dollar, or pounds, to see season after season of foregone conclusions? In order to make as much money with the new TV more games than ever will be live on Sky and TNT here?

The Premier League is currently destroying the matchday experience for those at games on those watching on TV by the use, or misuse of VAR, with some reviews taking up to 5 minutes, removing the thrill of the spontaneous release of joy upon scoring a goal shared by players and fans.

On turning left

Years back, I heard radio "personality" Chris Moyles recounting how great it is to turn left when boarding a plane. Or in other words, go to business or first class rather than cattle class.

Whenever Jen travels to Australia, she travels either business or first class, so we thought to celebrate our retirement we would travel business when we went to India.

I guess not all business and first class sections are the same, so this post applies to Air India's business class.

Upon entering, our seats were covered in blankets, sheets, slippers, another blanket and other stuff.

Which is nice.

But too much.

We had a drink upon sitting down, a hot towel.

There was a menu card and a drinks/bar menu card too. I was expecting wine, for example, to come in either a bottle or mini bottle, rather than just a glass. But the wine with dinner came in a glass, and staff were so poorly trained and haphazerd, that it took half an hour to flag a stewardess down to refil my glass, and dinner itself took the best part of two hours to serve, a third of the flight.

And then it way too hot to sleep.

Four hours later we were woken up for breakfast.

On top of that, we had access to the United (I think it was), and access to two Air India lounge on the journey back.

On the plus side, the huge screen for the TV made watching films enjoyable. But the pod was out of alignment for my legs to be able to lay down and sleep.

What do you expect for six grand? Well, beter service.

Saying that, service was better on the trip back.

Saturday 24th May 2025

It's been a couple of days since we had a road trip, so let's get going!

The trip had been long planned, as weddings are things not done on the spur of the moment. Jen received an invite to her niece's daughter's wedding in Norfolk. And as I'm from Norfolk, would I take her?

The plan went from staying for the wedding and reception so needing an overnight stay, to just going up for the wedding.

This meant leaving home on the Saturday of a bank holiday, crossing the Thames at Dartford, battling through Essex and Suffolk to a small village near Diss.

Traffic was feared to be dreadful, but then the weather turned, and after weeks of unbroken sunshine, there was mist and steady rain when the day dawned.

We left Chez Jelltex at half seven, went to pick up Jen who was in her wedding finest with hair done and make up. Then up the A2 in light traffic and rain.

I pressed on while the traffic was light, just so we could get to Dartford and over, or under, the river as quick as possible. Google Maps showed no delays.

We merged onto the M25 with traffic flowing well, we cruised to the ramp leading down to the tunnel.

We had done it.

And out into Essex the other side, the rain had eased and there was no spray, it was almost pleasant.

Turning off up the M11 towards Cambridge, we mixed with the traffic going to Stansted.

With four and a half hours to kill, we stopped off at the services near the airport where we had a disappointing breakfast of bacon, sausage and eggs.

I had other plans of things to do before the wedding, and first port of call was an ancient meadow just over the border in Suffolk.

We pressed on up the M11, then onto the A11 (the road to Norwich), and all was going well until the A14 was closed east of Newmarket, and all traffic was being sent up the A11.

We had no choice.

So, we turned north, then used the sat nav to take us through various tiny villages and along Suffolk six-foot sixers back to the other side of the accident, so we were back on track.

Winks Meadow is near to Harleston halfway to Lowestoft, really. We turn off onto ever narrower lanes until we come to the old airfield near to Metfield, and park next to the small copse beside the meadow.

I searched for an hour in the north-eastern corner of the meadow, but the once familiar tracks had gone, now overgrown. And the Frog Orchids, my target species, grew beside that now faded path.

Everywhere were faded or faded spikes of Green-wing orchids, which confused matters.

At half twelve, I gave up, and switched to the alternative plan: churches.

We retraced our steps back to the main road, then back to Diss, battling through the traffic on the main road, and out the other side. There were a few interesting churches here, and we were only a few miles from the wedding venue.

Bressingham is best know to me as the home of a railway museum and several narrow gauge railway lines to ride. Over the years I have visited here many times. It is also home to a huge decorate gardens once owned by Alan Bloom.

Next to the gardens and hall is the church, I hoped it would be open.

I parked up, and tried the door of the south porch: locked.

I walked round to the north door in the base of the tower: also locked.

It was then that I saw the sign stating the way into the church was via the north door, so round I went and indeed found the church open.

Glory here are the bench ends in both the Nave and Quire, sadly defaced by the not-so fun-loving iconoclasts defaced soon after they were carved. What is left is remarkable, but a shadow of what could have been.

Otherwise Bressingham is a fine wel kept church, with much of interest, an impressive west tower, pews and a Charles II coast of arms.

I was under time pressure, as the clock was ticking near to two, and wedding was at half past. And I had promised Jen we wouldn't be late.

It was only a few minutes drive to North Lopham, we dropped Jen at the lych gate, or where one should have been, and people in suits and fancy frocks were gathering.

There were limited parking, all taken, in the village. So, we turned round, Jools dropped my off at South Lopham church while she went to the garden centre at Bressingham.

It wouldn't have mattered is South Lopham were locked, as it was the huge Norman tower that is the feature here. It is indeed impressive, more so for being in the centre of the transept, inside would reveal two fine Norman arches giving views through the whole length of the church.

Also here were more fine carved bench ends, also defaced, but featuring creatures: pelican in her piety, and elephant with a beak among others.

I sat outside waiting for Jools to come back, and when she did there was a car full of plants.

I drove us back to North Lopham, as the bells ringing out in celebration at the end of the service could be heard. We parked down the street from the church, got a message from Jen saying she was just having the official pictures taken, but would be ready when we got there.

As we pulled up, Jen was trying to make her way through the churchyard in her high heels, with mixed results.

The final call was at the Thatcher's Needle pub in Diss, where we were to meet Sam and Vic, as they had also bailed out of the reception, despite being the bride's parents.

The pub is a family pub, and when you looked at the seats and tales, worn out and needing a refurb, but the food, the self-proclaimed best pub pie in the world, was splendid, which we gave 8 out of 10.

We talked and swapped news, but the clock was ticking and the day getting old. And we had many miles to travel to get back to Dover.

We paid up, said our goodbyes, and walked to the car.

The along the now quiet main road through Diss, out onto the A146, turned south towards Ipswich.

On the radio Craig played funk and soul as the car ate up the miles. Once we reach Ipswich, down the A12, a road I could possibly drive with my eyes closed, maybe just one.

Down through Colchester, Chelmsford to the M25 junction. Traffic was lift, the sun came out and the music lifted our spirits.

Even the M25 was free-flowing, getting us to Dartford and over the bridge into Kent. We turned down the A2, for the final leg down to Canterbury and home.

We had taken less than two hours to get home, dropping Jen off at ten to eight, and we home at five past. The cats were hangry, so Jools fed them while I unloaded the car of plants, and then put the kettle on for a well deserved brew.

Phew.

Shattered.

Friday 23rd May 2025

Friday again, an I'm a sleepy slugabed. Again.

I sleep through the alarm, and Jools wakes me as she's leaving for yoga.

So, I get up, get dressed then do the bins, in case the collections are early, then have coffee and check on the world.

Not much to report.

Jools comes back at half eight, so we have breakfast, soon after I am out to the doctor's to have a blood test.

All such things are now done in their surgery on London Street, so I drive into town and park as ASDA, walk through and report in.

I drop off a sample, then wait for the nurse to be free to take some blood.

I am now at the age when the NHS is far more interested in what comes out of my body.

Anyway, I was out by twenty to ten, not the hour delay I had last time, so could walk back to the car and then make my way to PGD to meet with Fran.

The usual mix of the patient and inpatient drivers on the way, and apparently, my use of the highway code to decide who should give way when there is room for a single vehicle makes me some kind of criminal.

Oh well.

I arrive at Barham, go down Gravel Castle Road to the Elham Valley road, then almost into Elham itself before turning off.

Fran is still walking to the site, so I stop and take her the last 400 yards, then up into the reserve to look for the Monkeys and other orchids.

I was only here three days ago, and things hadn't changed much. So instead I chatted to folks from the KWT who were surveying the site for orchid numbers, before going to sit on an ant mound.

As I sat down, I lost balance, so rolled off and was left on my back, legs in the air.

I don't think anyone saw this.

Fran was done fairly quick, so we walk back to the car then drive back to Barham for the White Lady.

Over the weekend and into next week I will have to come back four times to show various people the Lady.

We park and walk up the track, cutting into the wood. At first I couldn't see her, and thought maybe she had been dug up. But she was just hiding behind vegetation, and so was there in her glory.

Fran snapped her.

And then we moved onto the Birds Nest, where I think we found 12 spikes.

Back to the car and a request from Fran to take her to Folkestone for some Late Spider action.

I had heard that a spike was out, so off we went, more than hopeful.

And yet once we reached the site, we could see no spikes or pink sepals.

On the third scan I finally see a yellowy spike and a flash of dark red, a single spike.

Fran went to get her shot, I didn't bother as I had seen others at another site earlier in the week.

And with that the orchiding was over.

I dropped her off at Priory so she could get a Fran back home, while I braved Tesco for a few things to tide us over the weekend.

That done, I escape the madness back to the car, then back home all before three, so the weekend could start.

Thursday 22nd May 2025

I slept on a mattress on the floor, so therefore I was awake at five with a stiff back, then laid in the half light wondering when I should try to get up.

But my bladder told me I had to get up at half five, on the way I put the kettle on, and soon after Jen emerged, so we had a brew.

We didn't have much to pack, just wait for Sylv to get up then we could leave. We had another brew and toast, and just before eight, Sylv herself graced us with her presence.

We loaded the car, hugged and said our goodbyes, and Jen took us out into the school run up the hill from Kearsley to the roundabout leading to the motorway.

We were soon zooming through Rochdale and up the long climb to Saddleworth, Jen's little Ford eating the miles. Noisily.

For a change, the fine weather faded as we approached the border with Yorkshire, and then the rain began to fall. We cruised along before dropping down through Huddersfield.

Again, to avoid traffic on the A1, we turned down the M1 through Sheffield, then across on the M18, thus cutting out a huge chunk of the A1 out, and the roadworks, so we were soon speeding towards Newark.

Traffic was light, and so the trip was enjoyable, and we made for good company, of course.

We made good time down the A1, stopping at Peterborough for a snack and to change over driving duties. I made do with a large Cornish pasty, while Jen has chicken noodles.

Then it was back on the road, and from then on, it would get busy.

We turned off onto the A14 to Cambridge, then down the M11 to that London.

I mean, I could go on and describe each mile that we travelled, but truth is we just wanted to get home. And get to Dartford as soon as possible.

We crossed into Kent just after one, and so back in The Garden of England.

The M20 was pretty busy, doubly so when we reached the contraflow where the Brexit checks have been re-instated. All was well until there was a breakdown, and traffic was going nowhere until it was towed.

[time passed]

Suddenly, traffic began to move, and off we went for the last half hour run to Dover.

Back home at half two. Jen drove back to Whitfield, and I let myself in as Jools was out. I made a brew, and as always, that meant Jools returned within five minutes.

Back home.

Soon enough it was dinner time: pork pie, Jersey Royals and salad. And wine.

Sweet wine.

And oh dead. No football in the evening.

No worries, pooped we went to bed well before dark.

Wednesday 21st May 2025

It's grim up north.

I thought being retired meant a life of Leisure? But on Wednesday I was on my travels again, this time up north to Bury near Manchester to meet up with Jen at Sylv's, and travel back in her car on Thursday.

I threw a change of clothes into a rucksack, and was ready for Jools to take me to the station for the quarter to eight train, but going outside we found there was more water falling from the sky, and was cool.

Into town, Jools dropped me off at Priory station, I already had my ticket, so went onto the platform to wait, then take a seat when the train came in.

Being a peak service, it was full, but not too bad, maybe some extended holidays were already being taken for Whitsun next week.

In London it was raining harder, so instead of walking, I went to the Tube to get a train the one stop to Euston, but due to the layout under St Pancras, I'm sure I walked as far to get tot eh Underground as it would have been to walk in the first place.

Just dryer.

As I emerged onto the concourse, the platform was announced, so hundreds of us made our way to platform 5, then me to coach F seat 59(f) right in the middle of a picture window, perfect for watching the world go by as we sped north.

I put on headphones, and listened to podcasts too.

Lovely.

The run up to Manchester was disrupted by a bridge strike in the Crewe area, so north of Stafford we went from one signal to the next.

Over and over again.

Meaning the train, as did all the others in the area, get later and later.

All the while, the lady in the seat next to me was designing knickers. I guess they don't design themselves.

We arrived in Manchester 58 minutes late, two minutes shy of me being able to claim the whole cost of the ticket back.

Manchester was in party mood: Utd were playing Spurs in the Europa Conference Final that night, and Utd always wins. Except when they don't.

I went down to catch a tram to Bury, £4.60 well spent. And a minute later the tram pulled in, and then began to meander through the city centre to Victoria, after which it rattled along former railways, so got a good speed up.

I love riding trams when they go through cities, along streets, screeching round corners and people scattering out of the way, and all the while the tram passing close to shop doors.

After forty minutes the tram arrived in Bury, underneath the bus station, and I emerged into bright warm sunshine, and the town looking magnificent.

Bury and the Manchester area were once the heart of the industry of the Empire, cotton weaving especially, and must have been hard places to live and work in.

Industry has gone, the town cleaned up, and its civic and other buildings are grand and sparkle in the sunshine.

Up the main street, past the vape and pound shops to the main square, where the Parish church of St Mary dominates, and opposite not one, not two, not three, but four pubs stand side by side, but only the Robert Peel offers food.

I go in and order a burger, and then a pint of vanilla porter which costs all of £2.80, so when the barmaid told me the cost, I thought she had mis-spoken.

The beer was good, the burger too.

Sadly the hour's delay caused by the bridge strike meant I had an hour less to look round, and anyway, it was time to meet with Jen and Sylv to ride the steam train.

Yes, a steam train.

Though due to fire risk, the stream locomotive had been replaced by a class 45 whistling Peak.

The main reason for wanting to visit, for me, was the preserved town centre station. I had seen videos and pictures, and thought it worth a visit, and Wednesday was the first mid-week opening of the line, perfect for a visit then.

I walked out of the pub, and was walking the corner towards the ELR when I was called by two glamourous ladies: Jen and Sylv.

I went over, and we hugged and kissed, then ambled down to Bury Station, and with the ticket office closed, we walked down the steps to the platform.

Trains left from the island platform, and normally this would require going back up the steps and across, but for us they opened the barrow crossing, so we crossed on foot over the tracks.

With twenty minutes to kill before the train left, we had an ice cream, then sat in the rear carriage, I thought, and waited for traction to arrive.

It arrived, but coupled up to our carriage, so all the way to Rawtenstall we could hear the Peak's engines growling and rumbling.

Out of Bury, through tunnels and crossing the Irwell many times on the 35 minutes amble. It was excellent.

Being a hot afternoon, and they having a "Buffers" bar, we went in and I had a fine lemon meringue IPA which I supped on the way back to Bury.

Back in Bury we retire to the local 'Spoons, where Happy hour had fifteen minutes to run, so we had a main course and a pint for under a tenner. I had a pint of Leffe, which for 80p a pint, was a gold certified bargain.

Man Utd supporters were gathering for the game, but for us we caught a bus back to Kearsely, and having missed the direct bus, we had to take the "round the houses" one.

50 minutes alternating between former industrial towns and open farmland and fells, we were dropped off a 30 second walk from Sylv's flat beside the river.

I tried to find a way of watching the game. I could have gone to a pub, but I had drink enough and another pint would have caused me to go pop. I listen to the radio in the bedroom, and sleep though some of the first half, but were awake when Spurs scored.

Could Utd find an equaliser in the 2nd half?

No.

Huge cheers at the end of the game. I switch off the radio and go to sit with Jen and Sylv, who were watching a derivative TV crime drama.

We had a cuppa, then said good night, and a very long day drew to an end.

Tuesday 20th May 2025

Despite having two of the nation's rarest orchids in the county, Kent's rarest orchid is the Burnt (Tip).

Rare because only two or three plants remain, and only at one small area of the downs near Dover.

Its quite a hike from the car park, through the wood, the meadow, the second wood and then up through two fenced areas of the downs, out above the tree line, all the while climbing.

Its a climb best done early.

Or as early as possible.

We arranged to meet with Lisa again, and maybe Andy would meet us at the car park.

The car park has recently been surfaced, with clearly marked bays, and the steps into the wood recut, but are now really steep. If only for a few steps.

And once above the tree line, once through the stile, the path leads up, it curves up and round out of site until the second stile, then up still.

It took time, with plenty of stops to ease my back and take in the views.

No Early Spiders seen at any of the three colonies along the route, even the reliable one by the gate on the way back down.

Butterflies were on the wing, and already flighty: Common Blue, Adonis Blue, Small heath, Wall, Small Blue and Green hairstreak, though none settled long enough to photograph.

Finally, we reach the top, and the path fell away into the next reserve, down though the gate and along, running level with the main road down at the bottom of the valley.

In time we came to the site of the Burnt Tips, but already we could see the down covered in thicker grass than expected, so it took some close looking as the four of us scoured the bank.

After an hour, we drew a blank. Either a fallow year, or too dry for the spike to form and flower.

A disappointing result, but partly expected.

We stopped to talk for a while, before starting the climb back up and then down to the car once we had gone over the top.

We reached the cars at quarter to twelve, it was decided to show both Lisa and Andy the Main orchid site up the road, which we did, then drove to Kingston for lunch at the Black Robin.

Only it was closed!

So to Barham to the Duke, though they were doing no food, they did have drinks and crisps. So we refreshed ourselves before we went to Covet again so Lisa could see the white Lady and Birds-nests.

We climbed the wooded down, found the Lady, then I searched and found the BNO again, all got snapped.

And that was that, we had run out of orchids.

So, we walked back tot he car, then drove back to Priory to drop Lisa off, then head home for an early dinner as we had not eaten all day, other than crisps.

So, with some free range eggs I made carnbonara, and some Tesco focaccia.

It was quick and very, very good.

And that was your day, other than Citeh and Palace playing on the tellybox once again, but not each other.

Monday 19th May 2025

It is the second half of May, and the Kentish rarities, Monkey and Late Spider, are coming into flower.

We went to the gym in the morning, I upped the resistance and huffed and puffed my way through half an hour.

Then, back home for breakfast before going to Tesco for supplies, while Jools did gardening.

Tesco was filled with the usual idiots, including me, people just stop with trollies blocking aisles or sections of shelving. One woman blocked the berry section while she inspected every punnet of strawberries.

Then back home for bacon butties and brew, and time to for some orchiding.

First up was the public Late Spider site near Folkestone. Last week the front rosette had started to put up a spike, and seven days later, it was no further forward. This for an orchid that usually flowers before 10th May.

Its so dry up on the downs with no rain for months.

Up through Hawkinge then across through Acrise to Elham brought me to Park gate. I recognised the other Audi parked there as Terry's.

And sure enough as I entered the gate, he waved at me from the top of the down.

Life has been busy and none too nice, but there are smiles now, and time for orchids. It was good to catch up.

Then down to the orchids, and the Monkey, after not being able to see the Faversham ones.

Just a few small scattered spikes, but those were partly, or like this, mostly open. The good light made for fine and easy snapping.

I went to the far paddock, found two Greater Butterfly in flower, so snapped those too.

What now?

Late Spider Orchids.

The sacrificial site near to Folkestone has no flowering spikes. In fact, there has been little or no change in the visible spikes near the front of the fenced area.

I got a message: 16 spikes. Bee Orchids. I x probable hybrid.

I was already on my way.

The site was not far, as the crow flies, but I had to take the roundabout route, so to shake any spies that might have been following me.

I park on the lane, opposite is a fence and style.

Beyond is a grass track leading up and up.

My legs sighed in resignation.

And so, the last route march up the down, only to have to march back down in about an hour.

I stop plenty of times to take in the view, get my breath back. Until I reached the top of the slope, where the track turns left and down. Opposite, is the orchid bank.

But few know this.

I go over, and look close, soon finding a single LSO spike. It is perfect, turned to face the sun, its sepals acting like radar in tracking the sun.

A little further on was, to my surprise, was a Bee Orchid spike.

Not only is it early for Bee, but on this down, the Bee are found at the top. And yet here it was, growing among the Late Spiders.

I looked up and see a triple flower spike. Too perfect to ignore, so I climb one ledge up, and take in the three obviously Late Spider flowers.

On the far side of the small valley, I could see two figures, clearly looking for something on the ground. But apparently, they hadn't seen me yet. I would be walking right by them, an there would be questions to dodge.

Sure enough, as I walked closer, the taller figure, an elderly man with bushy beard was making his way down the slope, he approached me.

Beard: I guess we are looking for the same thing.

Me: But I found what I was looking for, what are you looking for?

Beard: Do you know where the Late Spiders are?

Me: maybe, how do I know I can trust you, there have been thefts.

Beard: I am the chairman of the Hardy Orchid Society.

Me: And your name is?

Beard: Dr Richard Bateman.

Me: Sorry, your reputation precedes you!

I waved in the direction of the down:

Me: to the left of the scrub.

We then had a long chat about orchids, and so on. We have some shared friends and experiences, only he is the authority on UK Hardy Orchids.

I bid him good hunting, and set off down the slope, chuckling to myself as I went. Dr Richard Bateman himself. Well. Well. Well.

I got to the car, and was going to go home via a pub, but instead went down through Etchinghill and onto the A20 past the Tunnel and onto the motorway to home.

A fine and funny end to the day.

Dinner was breaded chicken, Jersey Royals and salad. And wonderful and light it was too.

Another day of retirement passed, ending with Brighton v Liverpool, with Brighton coming from behind to win, 3:2.

Sunday 18th May 2025

I woke up at half seven, and the house empty.

Jools had gone for an early walk.

I could barely walk to the bathroom and back.

Then get dressed and go downstairs to make a coffee, open the curtains and consider the day.

All that was planned was going out at midday to meet a new chap, Andy, from Devon, who wanted to see an orchid, and thought I could help.

I prepared breakfast, put the radio on, filled up the feeders, and still no wife.

Then I remembered the secret message: put the kettle on, and sure as anything, she appeared within five minutes as the coffee was freshly made.

It was cold, but fine once you were out.

Hmmmmm.

But I had to go out. Out at midday, and into the mad traffic from the port up the A2, before turning off down past the Black Robin to where Andy was waiting.

Andy had a van. A new van. Probably too big for the parking space, so he got his gear and climbed in our car, and off we went down the wooded valley to the parking space at the foot of the bridleway.

Then off up the track, where the sounds of modern life faded away, the sun shone down through the young leaved canopy of the beech trees, casting a unique light.

It was magical, and Andy got it, and was delighted.

First up was the white Lady he had wanted to see, so we fought through thickets of Dog's Mercury and Twayblades until, among more normal coloured ones, there she was.

Still not fully open.

But wonderful.

Then to find the Birds-nests: I had a grid code, but this is where I searched two days ago!

And yet, there they were. About ten spikes in four groups. Some just opening, and of a good size too.

Finally, And had never seen herb Paris. We have hundreds in that wood.

I pointed them out, as he has been searching Devon for years, I don't thin he believed me, but sure enough, two groups of about 100 plants each, most with just the one seed from their one flower.

Also delighted at that too.

It was two. I had lunch to cook. So bid Andy farewell, and we walked back to the car so I could drop him off back at his van.

I raced home, getting back at ten past two, five minutes before kick off.

Yay.

I made roast potatoes, cooked the two small pies and steamed vegetables, so that by quarter past two we were sitting down for a fine dinner, the potatoes perfectly crunchy and crispy.

Once the late game ended, just time before #Wildflowerhour to watch a documentary on TV, and the weekend was over again.