Thursday 25th June 2026

There, I think, three native Kent butterfly species I have yet to see: Grizzled Skipper, Dark green fritillary, and Purple emperor.

The latter I had tried to see on two previous occasions. The first with Jools we wandered around the woodland clearing and saw plenty of other butterflies and moths,, but no Purple.

The second I met two experts, including Billy, who is the king of the fish paste bait. But the weather never really got out, and the only Purple Emperor seen was one that dive-bombed me at the delightfully named Dog-poo Corner.

It was perhaps a week early to be going, but they had been seen on site, and having been asked by Fran if I was going, Thursday was picked, as days when I am receiving my jabs make it impossible.

Thursday was going to be very hot, especially at Tunbridge Wells, near to where our prey is found.

Before then, there was the getting up, drinking coffee, and going to the gym.

What with the concert and the car, I had not been for two sessions, so needed to go. And yet was hot and humid, so would not be pleasant.

We both went, I did thirty minutes, which felt like enough to be honest.

And then to the Promenade so Jools could do some swimming.

We parked near the shallow part of the beach, I waited by the car while Jools changed and went in, splashed for fifteen minutes and then back home before the school run.

And we were heading home for breakfast before I was to collect Fran from Dover Priory at nine.

All went well. Rush hour had died down. Her train was on time, so shortly after five past, we were tearing up Old Folkestone Road to the A20 and then up through Ashford and beyond.

The motorway was busy, but not too bad. So we made good time, the sat nav suggested we would get to the car park at ten to ten.

Through Ightham, past its crooked buildings and picturesque pub, and onwards to the woods, and the car park.

The Purple Emperor spends most of its short adult life in the treetops, feeding off honeydew, only coming to the ground to take up water or salts from puddles or poo.

A bait made from various substances derived from fish has been cooked up, to lure the butterflies to the car park, and where, if we were lucky, we would see and snap one.

After parking, we find one fellow chaser, and he said that had already seen one, so prospects were good.

I asked Fran how long it would take to see our first Purple: her answer was 15 minutes, while mine was half an hour.

After waiting around the car park, we walked up the the corner, and a large butterfly was seen, which I thought at first was a White admiral. But no, as Fran shouted, it was a Purple emperor, and so we gave chase, hoping it would settle.

The Purple upper surfaces on its wings only shows if the angle between the wing and the sun is exactly right. And the shot everyone hopes for is an open-wing with both wings showing that purple sheen.

We only saw the purple on distance shots, not so in close up, where it was in the shade with its wings firmly closed.

We met up with three other chases, and indeed chased two males around until one settled near the new metal gate.

It sheltered in deep shade, wings closed, but allowed us to get shots.

But it was nearing midday, it was now beyond hot, and i was running out of water. So, we agreed to end the chase there, and I had some closed wings close up shots, and a single shot with (brown) wings wide open.

Out of 280 plus shots over two hours.

So it goes. So it goes.

We walked back to the car, opened all windows, and drove back out of the wood, and to the motorway, so to head back east to Dover.

Drink in a pub, Fran?

Yes.

I know just the place.

We turned off at Leeds and went down the A20, turning off and going up the down to Stalisfield Green to the Plough which would be not too busy and the beer is pretty good.

I had a Coke and followed that with a pint of Fuller's ESB, which was a very fine pint.

But it were hot.

I said I would drop Fran off at Faversham, making it easier for her to get to Herne Bay and home.

Faversham wasn't too busy, neither was the A2 once I made my way from the station and out of town.

Back home for three, and time to have a cool beer before relaxing. Tough no cooking as we were going out with Steve from next door. A new place for a quiz.

At seven, Jools drove us to the old High and Dry at Waldershare, now called "The Cider Works", the first time we had darkened their doors for about fifteen years, after that suspicious fire that destroyed the pub.

The quiz was to take place in the marquee where the weddings are held, so be cooler, and very nice it was too.

We did very well, just the three of us, and when the marks were tallied at the end of the evening, we were joint first.

A tie breaker question was asked: how many underground stations are there in London.

I knew it was about 270, but sadly one of the other team knew it was exactly 272.

So close.