Wednesday 30th July 2025

Its not often we get to entertain.

Have guests.

However, it is the summer holidays, and Ange, being a teacher, is off, and we invited her over at what time suited.

She arrived at eight, just after we had drunk the first coffee of the day.

After hugs and news, I made breakfast of the usual fruit and yogurt, made Ange a coffee, and we sat round the table eating and talking.

Once eaten and cleared up, Jools to Ange for a walk up to Windy Ridge and a seat on the bench, while I made bread: focaccia allo Stracchino, slightly different recipe, but close enough. To go with Caprese.

While the dough was resting, I mowed the lawn on a lower setting, intending to scarify it later.

Once done and they got back from the walk, I baked the bread with the cheese between to thin layers, so it gets nice n crispy, prepare the tomatoes, mozzarella balsamic, basil and olive oil.

I had received a fresh consignment of wine, so popped a cork, and poured a good large glass:

Cheers.

It was a very good lunch indeed.

On top of which, Jools had made tiramisu as well, which we had after an hour's break with more coffee.

While Jools and Ange went to the harbour for a swim, depsite the wine, I got busy in the garden and scarified the lawnmeadow again, getting another large sack of thatch.

Somehow it was half five. I was still working my way through the wine, so come seven we had the leftover Caprese and bread. I finished the wine.

And all was well with the world. I would sleep well.

Tuesday 29th July 2025

I am writing this on Wednesday, and so thinking about what we did yesterday, and for a few moments, I drew a blank.

The news is, I got a new piece of garden equipment: a scarifier.

And electric one.

I have had a manual one for a decade, to prepare the lawnmeadow for the winter and possible spreading seed for the upcoming season.

Truth is, the thought of dragging the tool through the thatch for a day or two did not fill me with joy, huffing and puffing all the while dealing with my grumbling back.

So, as a retirement present for myself, I got an electric one. One that can be pushed, has two blades: one for scarifying and the other for (easy) raking.

First of all, the box had to be opened and the machine assembled, following the wordless instructions.

Now, I had not slept well, and so was not in the best of moods, and spurned Jools's offer of help in the assembly.

Truth is, it was easy enough, seemed to be correct, so I had to road test it.

After a brew, I got the cable reel out, plugged in the machine, pressed the button and pulled the lever.

ROAR.

It went.

As much as an electric motor can roar, and the drum with blades spun.

I put on the box, and started.

As per the reviews online, the box wasn't big enough, so after one half length of the garden and back, the box had to be taken off and emptied.

No matter how annoying that might be, it was far, far easier that the manual tool.

In twenty minutes the main part of the garden was done, but despite no rain was forecast, there was rain in the air, hinting it might begin to get worse.

Even I know electrics and water don't mix.

So I quickly packed it all away, put in the shed and went to sit on the patio to monitor the weather and look at the lovely lawnmeadow, now mostly thatch-less.

We had lunch, which meant an afternoon struggling against the drooping eyelids and a power snooze.

Jools made tiramisu for consumption on Wednesday when were we spending the day entertaining.

I made breaded sliced aubergine for dinner, which we wolfed down with yet more pasta salad and a glass or three of red vino collapso.

The nights are drawing in, doubly so when cloudy, so to bed at half eight to read more of WSC while impatient Cleo glared at me waiting for me to turn the light out so we could go to sleep.

New football season starts tomorrow!

Bear in mind that there was neither a men's senoir European Championship or World Cup, the summer should have been fairly football free.

But you may have noticed the opposite.

There were the U19 and U21 Men's European Championships, and as England won both last time out, all of both competitions were screened on TV. England won the U21.

Then there was the World Club Cup in the US which I watched almost nothing of.

And finally, there was the Women's Euros which ended on Sunday with England again winning.

Just over five days later, Luton play Wimbledon in the first League 1 game of the season, on TV.

Over the weekend, both the rest of League 1 and League 2 will play their first games. Next weekend, The Championship begins on Friday, with the Charity Shield on Sunday, before the week after, the Premier League begins.

I once said to my friend in Arkansas, Jason, that we had almost 365 days of football, and how he said that sounded like heavan. But it isn't of course, no time to rest, to savour triumphs or recover from poor seasons, just the same three months on.

League football will carry on until the end of May 2026, have a week or two off, then the 48 team World Cup will begin in Mexico, the US and Canada.

The end of July

I guess, this is an update on how retirement is going.

Retirement is going well. You'll be glad to hear.

For the last three months, there has been the orchid season, long hot sunny days, butterflies in the garden: all stuff to fill the lazy hours and days with.

But August is on our shoulder, and the days are now clearly shorter.

When there are no more orchids this season, and there is only so many days at the gym you can do in weel, what then?

There is churches.

Obviously.

And railtours.

And rail rover tickets.

And buses.

In fact, from the end of September I am leading a small churchcrawling group through U3A, no idea yet how many might want to join, but I hope a visit every other Wednesday afternoon will help.

I have not yet followed up on volunteering at the Battle of Britain Memorial site, as frankly, there hasn't been enough time.

I don't miss work. I don't miss not being productive, as again frankly, my employer didn't act on my reports and findings, so I was part of the box-ticking that flowed through the company. But there was little else I could do.

Both Jools and I miss the interaction we had with people, and it is that gao we are trying to fill.

Its a work in progress, so we shall see.

Sometimes its just nice to sit on the pation with a book or listen to a podcast, and watch the garden and its comings and goings.

Time spent staring into space is time well spent.

Monday 28th July 2025

People ask how do we get shots of butterflies. Well, 90% of it is luck, 10% knowledge. Thing is, there is a period between the butterflies take to the wing in the morning, and the half hour it takes for the sun to warm their flying muscles up, and for the sky dancers to have their first meal of the day, when they are less flighty.

Leave it an hour and they are whizzing about all over the shop.

Much like the common or garden Jelltex, who is very lethargic until after the first coffee, and he is minded to go to the gym where half an hour's cycling will warm his leg muscles up!

It was Monday, and I promised this was the day routine would kick in, what with no football or cycling, so we would return to the gym.

After coffee we went, and found the car park already busy, though more with swimmers and those going to yoga classes. Upstairs, the gym was pretty empty and both bikes were empty.

I set one up then cycle around the Pyrenees some more, whilst Jools went swimming.

I was listening to a podcast in the café when someone came over to say hello.

I don't look out for folks in Dover, I didn't grow up here, and its been 16 years since I worked at the box factory, so I just see faces and people.

It was Jen.

A good meeting.

She was off to yoga, and I was done, and we agreed for cards that afternoon.

Once Jools was out and dressed, we drove to Tesco where we hunted and gathered, in and out in twenty minutes, so back home to put it all away and to have breakfast.

It was between getting back and having breakfast I saw the Peacock butterfly, posing wonderfully. So, I grabbed my camera, and stepped closer on foot at a time, taking shots with each step, until it was almost in the lens.

Good shots.

So, to breakfast, and a lazy morning.

I had a shower and shave, Jools did some work in the garden, and was soon time for lunch.

Corned beef, cucumber, onion and pickle seeded rolls.

Splendid.

And then off to Jen's. Monday is to be the regular card day. As she and John play dominos with friends on Tuesdays, sometimes Wednesdays. And then has yoga classes and so on.

Its all go, being retired.

And John is dealing as we walk in. Jen makes brews, and soon eyes down for three hours of fun and frolics without the hint of vulgarity.

Jools and John are the big winners.

But is fun.

At least the trip home is now quiet now that schools are out for summer, so we get back without incident. Feed the cats. And I prepare dinner of chicken and salad with yet more pasta salad.

I made a big bowl this time.

The evening was spent listening to the radio and me reading the latest edition of WSC. Season preview, the best issue of the whole year.

Sunday 27th July 2025

It may be hard for some people to believe, but some days there can be just too much sport on TV.

Take Sunday, there was the last day of the 4th test between England and India, the Belgian Grand Prix from Spa, the final stage to Le Tour and the final of the women's Euros.

All on at pretty much the same time.

I have not watched motor racing in over two decades, and live Test Match Cricket since 2005, so it was going to be a toss up between the cycling and kicky ball.

We were up pretty early, the cats fed, coffee drunk. But I saw we didn't have enough fruit for breakfast, but instead of waiting until Tesco opened, I suggested going out for breakfast.

We went into town and found the car park already three quarters full, and once we were in Chaplins, found just one table free.

A cruise ship has docked, and so the wait between ordering our food and it coming was enlivened by bus-loads of mainly American tourists being dropped into town.

As the bus left, you could them, standing around looking at DDC's worst plans made real, and them thinking, is this it?

Breakfast came, and was good. We are so regular here now, the waitress knows our order before we say it.

Not much else to do, so once finished we go back to the car and drive back home, along Townwall Street, now not clogged with traffic, then home.

Back home I mow the lawnmeadow, then after thinking about it, rake the thatch up. But my mind baulked at the scarifying tool. So, we decided to buy a machine instead, to make it easier.

That's arriving on Monday.

I sit on the patio with Scully, watching the birds and beers, me sipping from an ice cold bottle of Leffe.

Which I discover is now brewed in the UK, so will not be buying that again.

Come three in the afternoon, and the cycling starts. So, I settle down to watch it, and with the addition of three climbs up to Sacré-Cœur up the narrow cobbled streets of Montmartre, I decided to watch that until the end, and tape England v Spain to watch once the cycling was finished.

The cycling was brilliant, and doubly so the new climb. The race was won by my favourite rider, Wout van Aert, who found new reserves of strength to outclimb Tadej Pogačar on the second climb, then being the best descender, opened up a large lead, which he kept through the last circuit.

Then over to the footy. The game had nearly finished, or should have, but I started from kick off, sipping a pint of Taddy Porter and munching chilli nuts as Spain took the lead, then England levelled early in the second half.

Due to a glitch in the i player, I had seen the score with 5 minutes to go in extra time, so the only unknown was those last five minutes.

No goals scored, so went to penalties.

And unlike the England men, there was never any doubt with Spain scoring just one spot kick, so England ran out 3-1 winners.

Let the celebration, and tears, begin.

Saturday 26th July 2025

It am the weekend.

And we have little planned.

Should we go to the gym: no.

Should Jools go swimming: no.

Instead, she had to go for a further scan at Buckland hospital.

She goes and gets the all clear, as much as such can be given without surgery.

I won't go into details, needless to say, this is good news.

I am at least awake, up, have drunk coffee, had a shower and got dressed by the time she gets back, so we have breakfast.

Breakfast was so late, we have a second course of Cornish pasty with a second brew, so becomes brunch.

That was better.

We take the rest of the morning easy, listening to Huey before the cycling started at one in the afternoon.

Stuff is still growing in the garden: flower, runner beans and countless bees and butterflies. I snap them all.

I take up position on the sofa, and take in the racing and the passing landscapes.

Heavy rainshowers made it dicey, with several crashes, one involving the leading pack.

In a few KM, its dry again for the finish, and there is another breakaway for the win, no group finish, and for once the peloton has an easy day cruising along, ending the day nearly seven minutes behind the winner.

Just one more day now, the grande finale in Paris, the same time as the Euros final.

Eeek.

We have supper, ragu with ravioli, garlic bread and fine wine.

I end up going to bed early to listen to podcasts, might have fallen asleep at times.

Friday 25th July 2025

Is it Friday again?

Apparently so.

Some things don't change from our working days: Jools still goes to yoga, though doesn't go to work after.

So, as is usual, I am still in bed when she gets in the car to drive off. I had better get up, as the bins needs doing.

And I need a coffee.

That first coffee is great, Scully likes to pretend she hasn't been fed, but I know she has. So, I give her her insulin, and she goes to sleep in the garden.

The bins are done, so I sit on the patio and watch the garden wake up. Though, in fairness, its been awake since before dawn. But the sun is now strong enough to warm butterfly's wing muscles, and they are on the wing.

It is rather gratifying to think we have made this insect-friendly space in what used to be our garden. It still is a garden, just different.

At times, the garden hums with the biomass of insects feeding on the various plants and shrubs.

Jools come back, we have breakfast. And then to the main event of the day, except Le Tour, of course.

I drop Jools at the library for her craft and chat morning, while I drive to Barham for another visit to the sites along the valley.

In Spring, on the southern side Greater Butterfly flower, while on the north side, Lesser can occasionally be seen. And now on the eastern end there are Broad leaved helleborines, while at the western end, its Violet helleborines.

Ten o'clock is peak dogwalking time, apparently, with all bar one spaces at the first site full, I take the last one.

I don't have to go far far for the BLH or the Yellow birdsnests, they are both growing around the entrance gate.

Six spikes of BLH, all bar one in flower, though rather straggly, and nearby emerging out of the thick leaf litter, 80 plus spikes of Yellow Birdsnests.

I check every single one to make sure one isn't a Ghost orchid, none are, sadly.

A short drive further on is our favourite wood.

I park up, grab the walking pole and camera, and set off up the track.

Past the area where the Lady Orchids grow, up along the track which 24 hours previously had clearly been a raging torrent, though is now drying out.

Up the dog-leg, just about keeping my feet, then up the final slope.

The nine spikes we saw just over a week before had gone, probably a snack for deer, as the early fungi that were showing all had nibble marks.

But in three places, I find a dozen more new Violet Helleborine spikes, one a large one in full flower.

It looked fabulous.

On the other side of the path, a ray of light illuminated a single non-flowering spike, and next to it, eight more spikes.

No Ghosts here either.

I walk back to the car, then drive back home, dodging roadworks so to be back in St Maggies in time to pick Jools up from the library.

Back in time for the 12:30 grande depart, only there's trouble with the local farmers, and the first climb had been cancelled, and the start delayed by an hour, and instead The Champions were on, looking pretty poor with its cardboard sets as faux eastern Europe.

An hour late, the race starts, and became a 96km dash up the three remaining mountains, all gripping stuff, although the excitement did not stop me from nodding off and missing the first half of the race.

So it goes.

There is the music quiz: I came third, and end up third in the overall monthly standings, though I don't win anything for that.

A quick supper, and relax for the evening, which I spend writing and posting stuff online.

Thursday 24th July 2025

There are between 50 and 60 species of resident butterflies in the UK, with a few more migrant species that can be seen when conditions are right.

I have seen most of the UK and Irish species, with a couple of exceptions, so the possibility of a new migrant which might become resident in Kent is tantalising.

Climate change, whether you believe in it or not, will change many things, and will help Mediterranean species liver at higher latitudes. And the Southern small white butterfly, has rapidly spread from there northwards, reaching Calais about five years ago.

And with it being 23 miles across the Channel, expectations that the species will be seen in Kent have been high.

Problem is, differences between the Southern small white and our native Small white as fairly small, so people could easily miss it.

As we live at the nearest point to mainland Europe, it seems logical to keep an eye out here, and so I have been chasing Small whites around the garden and neighbourhood for five years.

This week has seen a increase in numbers of small white butterflies, so the task is to photograph as many as possible in the hope that one might be a Southern.

So far, so good.

Thursday started out fine, but clouded over later and soon the rain began to fall.

Before then I had been in the garden, and seen many species: Red admiral, Painted lady, Large white, Wall, Common blue and some small whites.

The garden is all a hum with other insects too: bees, wasps, hoverflies and beetles too, as well as our old friend the Hummingbird hawkmoth.

One small white seemed yellower than others, I stalked it, snapped it, but the tiny butterfly refused to open its wings to show the tell-tale obvious difference, the concave forewing spot.

The afternoon brought cards at Jen's.

All played in good spirits with Jen winning Meld and Jools scooping the kitty in Queenie, meaning we went from nearly being out of pennies to a half-full tin.

I then took Jools into town so she could have an ECG, as a test at the surgery last week showed a possible issue. Nothing found, but I sat in the car near ASDA, watching the rain hammer down, and the car park turn into a very shallow pond.

No issues found, so back home for a quick supper, and me sitting down to watch the whole stage of Le Tour in the Alps, which lasted until it was dark.

Yes, dark now by half nine, earlier if cloudy and raining.

AI with everything

At some point in recent history, the internet had been written all by human hands.

I say this, as at that point a statement was either true, a lie or a mistake.

And along came AI.

AI "scrapes" data from many sources, depending on the users need, but does not mid whether the data it has scraped is accurate, truthful or not.

And now the internet is being polluted by AI bots that scrape data from not just the internet, but each other too. And it will be up to us to decide what we search for is truthful or not.

But, with ever more AI, the data becoming ever more polluted, will the AI bots themselves be able to tell, or just vomit out ever more bizzare search results until its no longer worth using them?

I heard it called AI mad cow disease, and maybe that's the hope for the internet and makind, that we learn not to trust AI, that AI cannot replace people, and having AI with everything just not make life better, but might make it a lot worse.

That's even before you look into the actual programming of a bot, and its that that might turn it into a "meta Hitler".

Or they just might take over and we not notice.

Remember, that with every search, if you add "-AI", the results will be AI free. Or as best they can be.

Wednesday 23rd July 2025

Summer, it seems, has left the building.

Long gone is the balmy, hot sunny days of last week, and instead a cool wind and clouds, sometimes with rain, sometime heavy.

It will do the garden tres bon, however.

Days are settling down now, with Jools getting up at six to feed the cats, and me sometime between half an hour and an hour later.

Then comes coffee.

Breakfast.

And another brew.

And the question of what to do with the day.

Well, I had a dentist appointment just before eleven, so we load the car with hedge clippings, so we can go to the tip afterwards, and Jools drives us into town, dropping me off outside the surgery.

Holiday traffic is building day by day, and now that all schools are off for summer, the great getaway gets going in earnest.

I have no work to be done, just a clean to be booked.

Jools collects me and we go up Crabble Hill, past our old flat, up Whitfield Hill and into the council tip. Three bags of clippings and half the lilac bush tipped away.

Finally, to Tesco for the only shop of the week, hunting and gathering the usual stuff, enough to see us beyond the weekend.

Tesco now doubles as a creche and old people's day centre, meaning the people=phobic get round and out as soon as possible, and are soon on the road back to Chez Jelltex, where we have rolls for lunch, huge brews, all in time for the start of the day's Le Tour coverage.

Mountains.

Scully and I sit on the sofa as ran hammers down outside, and I enjoy the hyper-fit whizzing up mountains past huge cheering crowds.

Time during the ad breaks to chop and boil the potatoes for hash, so that once the race is done I can get busy in the kitchen.

The potatoes crispier than ever, and smoked chipotle flakes added to the onions and sweet peppers.

Fabulous.

Before the football, we nip to Walmer to the offy to pick up some Belgian beers, spending fifty quid, then bac home, put the bottles away and sit down for Germany v Spain in the other semi.

A close game, won in the last ten minutes by a shot from an acute angle by Spain.

So its England v Spain in the final.

I finished the bottle of Red Spot during the game, toasting my friend Tony on the other side of the world.

Thank you, my friend.

Tuesday 22nd July 2025

Some three or so weeks ago, the gym at the sports centre closed for refurbishment, and on Sunday morning, all work was done, all new machines installed so we could return to the world of phys.

I set the alarm for half six, was up and had coffee, so we could be out by twenty to eight to beat what rush there would be in the summer, and Tuesday was the last day of summer term for children in Dover and surrounds, so traffic might have been mad.

But wasn't.

We parked, and checked in so to be able to enter the gym. Swiped in, and into the new shiny world of connected equipment.

There were no staff around to show us what to do, but there was a large icon saying "quick start", I showed the guy on the bike next to me as he had forgotten his glasses, and soon we were both peddling.

Once peddling, there was an icon which suggested a video of going down a lane, I pressed that and was transported to Aix-en-Provence, cycling through picturesque villages and the threat of steep climbs up the mountains to the right.

I did my session, first one after four weeks, so took it easy. Jools still had some pain but did her session too. We met in the café, then walked out to the car and home, as a man with a tape measure was coming round.

Because choosing a kitchen is only half the issue, getting someone to install it, decorate and the rest was another.

Steve arrived just before nine, laughing. He has seen everything, and knows solutions, preferably easy solutions.

He found issues with our plans, changed them, and made things better and cheaper, and in the end we would have a larger downstairs toilet with a hand basin, and enough room for the American double fridge-freezer, washing machine, tumble dryer and cupboards in the utility room.

This is not going to be cheap, or quick. But his estimate on the time needed was a third of the first guy.

So, we have new plans, so we have to tell the supplier to change the drawings and come up with a new, cheaper, estimate.

Kerching.

We had breakfast to celebrate.

A day of intermittent thunder storms was forecast. So we planned to do very little.

No storms came.

There was Le Tour to watch, but die to the manic pace of the stage, we got less than 90 minutes live action as the stage was two thirds over, but the climbs yet to take place.

Mike came round with his mate, who does kitchen installation, but what we need is beyond what he can do, though he saw some issues, and the plan is going to change slightly, but otherwise good.

Breaded chicken done in the air fryer, the last of the pasta salad and garlic mushrooms for dinner, all eaten and put away so I could watch the football, England v Italy, which was an incredible game, England levelling in injury time at the end of the game, then winning and scoring a penalty in the 199th minute, so go onwards to the final.

Italy were left in tears. So close, and yet so far.

Monday 21st July 2025

Monday morning, and I did not check the settings on my camera, so did what I thought was the best series of shots of a Wall (Brown) only to find that the depth of field is too shallow, so picking out the best of the worse.

Saying that.

Monday.

No Le Tour.

No Women's Euros either.

But it was sunny at least.

Jools was going to spend the day at a spa near Canterbury with a friend, meaning I was home alone.

So, after laying in bed until seven, I get up, we have coffee and breakfast, meaning that I would wash and tidy up once she had left.

And I found out again how easy it was to let time slip through my fingers, as the morning slipped by, I did at least have a shower so was presentable if the King came calling.

It was lunchtime, so I had my old favourite of oatcakes with butter and Dundee marmalade with a huge brew, enjoyed sitting on the patio with Scully, surveying our little piece of England in the summer sunshine.

Maybe I should do some gardening?

And amazingly I do some, getting the clippers out to trim the hedge behind the frame the roses climb up.

But it was hot.

And Mulder then Scully demanded attention.

All the while the long-forecasted thunderstorms moved closer, then popping up over Kingsdown, so that when Jools came home at four, the rain was falling and thunder rolled round the village.

And indeed thunder rolled around the village into the evening, as spikes struck along the coast between Kingsdown and Sandwich.

But it was good to see rain falling and knowing it will do the garden good.

After dinner we play Uckers, and I am triumphant winning by two pieces.

Yay.

Sunday 20th July 2025

Twenty years ago, I was leaving the Royal Air Force.

I say it that way, as you accumulate terminal leave and other benefits, meaning pretty much the last three months of service is spent on courses and/or holiday.

I had done courses, and was thinking of moving to the US, so sent nine weeks in the US: two in New England visiting New Hampshire, Niagara Falls, whale watching and staying with friends. Then flying to Seattle, stay there for three days and then drive down Route 101 to LA over four weeks.

In a Mustang convertible.

On the 21st July, 2005 I had my first full day in Seattle. Drank some coffee, among other things.

"Woke up after ten good hours sleep: flicking through the TV channels: I came across Fox News, to find that there had been another spate of attempted bombings in London.

I tore myself away from the TV, and decided to head out into the city. On the corner of the street where the hotel was, stood a Starbucks: and I was in Seattle, it had to be done, really. I asked the woman behind the counter where to head to first. In fact she talked to me, apart from asking what I wanted, this English accent is great. Anyway, she said Pike Street Market was the place to go: and that’s where I headed.

Pike Street Market is a throwback to the early days of the city: it looks like it was converted from old warehouses, and has imposing views across the Puget Sound. Inside, it has bare wooden floorboards, worn smooth by years of use. The most famous place in the market is the fish stall. It’s an imposing place, every kind of fruit de la mare on display.

And when someone buys something, the assistants form a chain; throw the fish from one to another, whilst singing. It really is quite good. It always has a large crowd gathered around it, waiting for the fish throwing to begin. Such a shame that most tourists don’t venture further in, as it is a veritable warren of small independently owned shops spread over four floors. The floor level has fresh produce, not just fish, but meat, fruit and vegetables: all of it looking better than we get here.

I explored the rest of the market: there were the usual mix of gift stores, head shops, antique shops and right at the bottom, a brilliant record store. A ten inch copy of Black Market Clash caught my eye. I put it at the back of the rack, so no one else would see it.

Cheeky me. Back outside, I saw there was a place to eat above the market. Finding the stairs, I discovered it was owned by a family of Bolivians. A salad with spicy peanut sauce caught my eye, so I sat down, and looked down at the world. Across the roof of the market, way across the Sound, snow-capped mountains glinted in the sunshine.

From one of the fruit stalls, I bought some sweet fresh figs, and set off to discover the rest of the city. Down past the market, there were a set of steep stairs leading down to the waterfront: I headed down. To get to the waterside, I had to cross a main road, and before that, a tram line.

Vintage cream and green coloured trams ran up and down the harbour. All along the waterfront, a myriad of bars and restaurants mixed with piers and docks. Various companies offering trips around the sound, or longer ones to see more whales: this time Orcas. I think it’s politically incorrect to all them Killer Whales any more.

After a few hours, I headed back to my room, to have a shower before heading back into the city to get something to eat.

I was hoping to eat at a BBQ place opposite where I ate the night before, but it was crowded, as were most of the places. A few blocks to the south, I found a small bar that offered what turned out to be cracking Jambalaya. Also, they had the coolest music I heard on the whole trip. The new Ravonettes album was playing, and they all seemed pretty up on the music scene. When I mention I was going to see Brendan Benson the next night, one of them managed to find a compilation with Spit it Out on. As I promised myself, I got a taxi back: much less fraught."

At the time, I was decompressing from leaving the RAF, learning to be able to make my own decisions again, and it would be a glorious moment on the drive out of Seattle three days later that the realisation hit me, I could go and do whatever I wanted.

Pretty much like now to be honest.

It has gone from an extended holiday to be the new normal, and Monday is the new Friday. Or the other way round.

But this was Sunday, and another day of expected heavy rain and storms, though the storms didn't come, we did have rain in the morning.

We had an early lunch; I made breaded aubergine to go with the pasta salad. This is a recipe from my first wife, and turns two simple egg plants into a golden, crispy, and tasty meal.

Foolishly, I opened the big bottle of cask conditioned Chimay, and at 10.%% packed a mighty punch, so that I struggled to watch Le Tour through the afternoon.

And then on the patio to watch the gathering storm clouds over France, turning the blue sky to black, looking darker thanks to the bright, low sun.

And there was no football in the evening, just some internetting for #WildflowerHour, and a sensible hour to go to bed.

Love Labour's lost

It has been a year since the Labour Party swept into power, turfing the Conservatives into opposition.

But there has to be more than "not being the Conservatives", when in power. And it seems the so called "Blue Labour" seems to be driving policy: getting more sick and disabled people back to work, cutting benefits, passing more illiberal laws. Generally not making the country a better place.

It took a full scale back bench rebellion to get the Government to u-turn on the worse parts of cutting PIP payments to the disabled, but these still will be used against new claimants.

The Police now seem to think that using the words "Action" and "Palestine" in a sign is enough to get the holder arrested for supporting a procrivbed organisation, and yet holding sign supporting Isreali genocide would be fine.

strange times we are living in.

There is also the immigration policies, Starmers Island of Stangers speech (for which he has appologies for). Aping Nigel's policies to stop him getting into power, forced the Tories to the right, and didn't work. Its not going to work for Labour either.

If Labour loses support from its core, and it won't win over Farage supporters either, then who is going to vote for them? And will probably let Nigel in.

Currently, Labour are little better than the previous Government, and I can't honestly bring myself to vote for them in the next election. Although that is four years time, and a lot can change before then.

Saturday 19th July 2025

The storm arrived just before midnight on Friday evening. I heard no more than five rumbles of thunder, Jools tells me there was more. But there was plenty of rain, so that by dawn the water butts were full to overflowing again.

Storms and rain were expected through the day, at least till mid-afternoon, and with traffic to the port, not much to go out for.

Except, we had an appointment to see the kitchen designer, so we did have to go to Combe Valley to sit in their presentation room to see what they came up with.

So, after coffee and breakfast, we drive out through Pineham to miss the worse of the traffic, as Jubilee Way and Townwall Street were jammed with port traffic with the school holidays just having begun.

It all looks pretty good. We re-arrange a few things and choose the worktop.

We now have to find a builder to do the preparation and decoration as well as the installation.

But exciting stuff.

Back home to watch raindrops run down the windows, and also watch the storm radar to track storms heading north from central France.

And Le Tour.

Which for Saturday and the huge stage in the Pyrenees, with two out of category climbs and two others, was going to be a good day for it to rain, so I could sit on the sofa.

At midday, the first of the builders came round to size up the job, so an estimate could be produced. Its the guy who did the painting upstairs, and he was happy with what we need, including decorating.

But back to Le Tour: filled with breakaways, climbs, descents in mist and rain, riders bailing, and huge crowds cheering the riders as they pass through the dramatic landscape.

I made a batch of short cakes during the ad breaks, and we ate two of them each, fresh from the oven with huge brews.

It was soon evening, so we dined on anti-pasto, pasta salad which Crain spun the tunes on the wireless.

The last quarter final in the evening, France v Germany. Germany had a player sent off after 13 minutes, and France scored from the penalty spot.

All over.

But no. Germany levelled just before half time, and hung on to take the tie to extra time. Right at the end, the German keeper saved amazingly just before the ball crossed the line. Then saved two shots in the shoot out, sending ten player Germany into the semis, where they will meet Spain.

Phew.

Friday 18th July 2025

Its Friday again.

Apparently.

Days and weeks fly by, and so it is nearly 3 months, a quarter of a year, since I left Vestas.

This is the new norm, Mondays no longer feel like Mondays or something to feel blue about, and Fridays are not really the gateway to the weekend either.

But Fridays still have the same tasks: yoga, bins, Jools's knitting/gossip social. So, I wake up as Jools drives the car out, get up and make coffee before putting the bins out.

It was to be a fine, warm and sunny summer's day, but storm clouds, literally, are building to the south, with some places in southern England expected to get up to three inches of rain through Saturday.

I sat with Scully on the patio as I drank my coffee, the sun already felt warm and it still wasn't eight.

There's time between Jools coming back from town and then leaving for her class to have breakfast and a brew. Once she leaves, I wash up and return to the patio.

Jools came back saying how ill she felt, and so filled out an e consult, and had an appointment with the doctor within the hour. She had antibiotics, and more appointments for next week.

She snoozed through the afternoon, and I watched the latest stage of Le Tour.

When the prescription was ready, I went to Tesco to collect it, and do a half shop to get us through the weekend.

I had made a big pan of pasta salad in the morning too, so we had that with some breaded chicken so Jools could get an early night, though was already feeling better.

For the evening there was the third quarter final between hosts Switzerland and favourites, Spain. Spain ran out easy 2-0 winners and missed two penalties.

I finally opened the bottle of special beer my colleagues had bought as a retirement present. It was 15% ABV, black as treacle and had no carbonation when poured.

I ate a pack of paprika crisps as I drink it, which was the only way the beer was drinkable.

Thursday 17th July 2025

The orchid season is nearly over!

Oh noes!

But yes, all good things have to come to an end, and the 20125 season is growing old, and now is the time of the Helleborines.

Broad leaved h. can grow almost anywhere, though woodland glades and the edge of woodland are good places. So, with 85% of Kent still rural, they could be anywhere and everywhere.

One of the most reliable sites in the county is The Larches near Maidstone, and wit me having arranged a meet there on Saturday, though I had better check first.

And then the weather forecast happened.

The weekend is due to be very wet and very stormy, with Saturday morning at ten, when I arranged the meet, due to be the wettest and stormiest time of all.

So, the meet is cancelled.

But we will go anyway.

I call Fran to see if she wants to go.

She does.

So, after coffee and breakfast, we go to Herne Bay to pick her up, then along Thanet Way heading west to the site.

Fran had never been, so was keen to come, so we park on the side of the road, collect our stuff and walk into the wood, picking the lower path which will lead us to the first of the colonies.

Each season is different in terms of orchids, other plants, and insects and other animals, so a week ago many of the spikes were just about to reach their best. A week later: well, many spikes were already burned to a crisp, each flower turning gold and dry once pollinated.

Thankfully, there are three other colonies, and these were in open sun in a managed large glade, but this was very surprising.

Further up, near the first tree, there were more burned spikes, but others, just coming into flower, which must have benefitted from the recent rain.

The top tree had many spikes around, most partially gone over, but some worth snapping, including the variegated plant which was yet to flower.

We had also seen many Carline thistles, and Common Fleabanes coming into flower, but Fran also saw a Blue fleabane just opening its tiny petals.

Down the path, many more spikes, most only partially open were found, and some photographed.

Jools then took Fran to see the Yellow birdsnests on the gallop nearby, in case they were a no show at our next stop.

A half hour's drive down the M2, then onto the A2 past Canterbury brought us to Barham, where last year, some 2,500 Yellow Birdsnests were recorded. Its not an orchid, but is parasitic like Birds-nest orchids.

We park in the area in front of the wood, and I walk up the track looking left and right, knowing what it was, and what it looks like.

I walked half a mile up the down, then back down. At least it was cool under the beech tree canopy.

Where were they? Asked Jools.

They were here, I said pointing at an area of dried leaves near the entrance.

Fran then saw the first spike, and in the two minutes we saw maybe 30 or more spikes, most emerging, but some fully grown.

Now you can see how a similar plant, the Ghost Orchid, can be so easily overlooked when there's just the one of them.

And then onto the long shot, to the old familiar hard standing and the walk up through the woods, along an overgrown gallop to check on the progress of the Violet Helleborines.

I thought it a fool's errand, and wondered, as we huffed our way up, why we even looking.

Up on the top of the down, I thought I saw a spike in sunlight to my right. I set off and found three spikes, all in bud, but no more than a few days from opening.

A few yards away, a group of five, and even closer. I went to walk away when Fran noticed the two lowest flowers on one spike were actually open.

Amazed, we took shots.

None on the other side of the track, until I nearly stepped on three more spikes, though these were still unfurling.

Just one more species of the season now, though we shall return in a week to check on these.

We walked back to the car, then drove to the Black Robin where the kitchen was still open, so we order cold drinks and sandwiches.

The sandwiches, when they came were like a meal in themselves.

It was half two by then, so we took Fran back to Hern Bay, back up the A2 and onto Thanet Way. After dropping her off, back onto Thanet Way and to Ramsgate before turning south past Sandwich and to home.

Phew.

A fine, fine day. Much better than working for sure.

I caught up with the latest stage of Le Tour, then there was the small matter of England v Sweden in the Euros. England two down after half an hour, and out of sorts. Then scored twice in two minutes in the final ten minutes to take it to extra time.

Then penalties.

Only five out of nearly twenty spot kicks were scored, but England win, and go to the semis.