Saturday 4th April 2026

Easter Saturday.

Ad with all the football on Friday, it felt like a Sunday, but wasn't.

Not that it matters to us, really.

Up at sic, have coffee, go to the gym, or rather I did, as Jools said she was going for a walk instead. So, I drove to Whitfield and pumped lard.

As I pedalled I thought that once I was done, I should go orchiding.

As this is the start of the madness.

I had to nip home to pick up the camera, and I wasn't expecting for Jools to be back, but she was.

Earley Wood? I asked.

OK.

So, no coffee, no tea, no breakfast, just one with our boots and off to the A2, all quiet as the Easter rush to the port had died down.

Along to Bridge, then through the fields of fruit and coppiced woods to Hardres, before turning down Stone Street for a short blast to Petham, which was still enjoying its lay in.

We park at the gate to the reserve, grab our cameras and strode off along the path to where the nearest colony of orchids could be found.

We find no rosettes, but a new colony of Herb Paris, a rare plant that only grows in ancient unimproved woodland.

Past the bench and into the main part of the wood, where fallen trees had blocked the path, and had the new path not be struck, then we would not have found the first of the flowering orchid spikes.

A single flower open, but it counts!

Anyway, a little way further on, a spike, much bigger, with half its flowers open, showing well against the backdrop of bluebells and Wood anemones.

It was too cold for butterflies, but a few queen bumblebees buzzing around, slowly in the cool air.

Shall we go down this path, I asked.

We did. And as all good hobbits know, short cuts leads to long delays, but we did find more flowering orchids. All was well until we came to the edge of the wood, where the wind had decimated the trees, most falling onto the path.

We knew that if we went left for long enough, we would join the path we were on earlier.

What could go wrong?

What went wrong was the path petered out, so we had to climb and scramble through undergrowth, over fallen trees, and still no clear path was found.

I checked the "maps" app and saw that we were nearly level with the car, so the path should be here. Somewhere.

Suddenly, the vegetation cleared, and a short walk further on, there it was. And in a few minutes, past more flowering orchids we missed earlier, back to the car.

Back down Stone Street to Hythe, hoping the greasy spoon would be open. But wasn't there, as a backup, we drove along the motorway and turning off at Hougham we went to he Little Farthingloe Farm for breakfast.

Great food, and in a converted barn, was a really good thing to do, and there would be no washing up.

Traffic had begun to build along Townwall Street, so we drove into town, up Castle Hill before turning along Reach Road along the cliffs to St Maggies and home.

Oddly for a Saturday, there was little football, and the two cup games on BBC were taking place in the evening when we would be entertaining or preparing dinner.

Back home we had a brew, a shower and felt human again.

I had two sauces to make: one, a flavoursome one for crispy chilli beef I was making as a starter, then a Moroccan flavoured marinade for the two rack of lamb I would be serving as a main course.

Then there was vegetables to prepare, spinach to wilt and chop, beef to cut into thin strips and so on.

No football to listen to, or thare was, but I was never going to concentrate, so missed Citeh spanking Liverpool 4-0 in the cup.

Sean and Ange arrive at quarter to six, so after hugs and handshakes, I get on coating the beef, frying it before the sauce was poured and mixed in a bowl.

Not perfect, as the beef wasn't crispy, but otherwise was fabulous. And the remaining sauce was used to coat the baby new potatoes once they were cooked.

The lamb was roasted for just twenty minutes, and that and vegetables, creamed spinach was dished up, carried to the dining room.

Phew.

That all done, I could relax and enjoy the meal. Which I did.

We walked for hours, and in the kitchen the washing up called. I went to start, and the pots, pans and plates on the worktop looked like a disaster area. But bit by bot, it was washed, dried and put away.

We could then have the tiramisu that Jools had made, as Sean and I drained the second bottle of splendid red wine.

They left at eleven.

I had a brew before going to bed. Well fed and tired.