Monday 21st July 2026

Amiens, France.

We woke after close to ten hours sleep.

Ten.

Hours.

Life seemed better. And there was breakfast that was going to be prepared for us, with no washing up afterwards.

That's living alright.

Outside it looked warm already. Time would tell.

We went down for breakfast, there was fruit, bready stuff, croissants, coffee, Nutella. All the major food groups.

We filled our boots, by which time it was just after eight. And the cathedral opened at half seven.

We walked outside to the car, and in the shade of the hotel it was lovely and cool, but wouldn't stay that way for long.

We programmed a parking house nearby, I fired up the horses in the car, and we lurched off towards the city centre.

For a Monday morning, traffic was light, so we cruised carefully into the centre, turning down a side road, then down the ramp to the underground parking house.

Whether we would find our way back again after our visit and lunch would be another matter.

We had seen the cathedral, the largest by volume in France, apparently., on the way into the centre. To say it towered over the surrounding area would be something of an understatement.

But once we parked, walked up the the street level, and at the next junction we looked to the left and there was the roof of the cathedral.

We'd go that way.

Five minutes later, after walking down an alley paved with white marble, we came to the south-west corner of the church.

Entrance by the south door, a sign seemed to be suggesting.

We walked along the southside, and there was an open door. We went in.

Inside was a space at least as large as St Paul's in London, but untouched by puritans or time, A Baroque pulpit, covered in gold leaf caught the eye.

I took a shot, and a guy came over to engage me in conversation. As my French is below middle school standard, and his English was little better, but he seemed to be suggesting that I was taking my photos wrong.

I said thanks, tried to explain the hand-held night-shooting mode, but went over his head.

He came back, and showed me a video of his work. Not sure if he was trying to get me to employ him to take shots.

I explained I had some 50,000 pictures of churches, and I really did know what what I was doing.

When he came back a third time, I guess I became rude. As ride as you can be in fractured Franglais.

He walked off.

Phew.

I went round snapping the scenes, chapels and details, then switched to the big lens for more details and the stained glass windows.

Meanwhile, at nine, Mass began, and the cathedral was filled with the harmonised voices of the choir, then the benediction read out.

Amen.

Amiens, and the Valley of the Somme, was the centre of the First World War battle of the same name, so the cathedral has memorials to nations and battalions that sacrificed themselves in the defence of the city and area.

There is little evidence of the war now, other than the occasional memorial, the city is rebuilt and vibrant.

We walked back outside, into the bright sunshine, and temperatures were some ten degrees higher than went we entered.

Next on the list were the "floating gardens" of Les Hortillonnages. Of which we had no idea what they were, but was high on the top rated attractions in the city.

We walked down from the butte that the cathedral straddles, and came across a small stream, running in the lea of the cathedral. On the other was a row of houses with shops in their ground floors, and behind all had identical metal spiral staircases.

The road in front was filled with fast food joints, discotheques, and other shops, all closed at half eleven, though some stayed open until 05:00.

On the left a road opened up, and there over the main road was the Somme river, also lined with restaurants, bars, and shops. The maps app said to carry on, so we did.

We crossed the river beside another main road, then the way was down a steep curving road to the riverbanks. On the side was a brasserie, where we called in for a cold drink. And then a beer.

We went back out and down to the riverbank, walking along hoping to see an entrance. We did find it, but turns out the public part doesn't open until one, and it was too hot to wait.

We explored further along, where there was a mixture of houses, summer houses and allotments, all on small islands separated with by ditches or minor stretches of the river.

It was all very nice, and peaceful despite being only a short walk from the city centre. But all private.

We sat and watched the wildlife: dragonflies, damselflies, butterflies and birds, while a couple of boats chugged by.

Thoughts turned to lunch, so we walked back towards the cathedral, stopping for a drink at the same brasserie, then along the river where we took a shaded table at a café, and ordered pork something. Which came with a very thin carrot, some kind of root vegetable (half of) and a sauce.

It was so pleasant sitting and eating watching the world go by, we had dessert and a coffee.

Back to the cathedral to take shots of the statues and triple doors at the west end, by which time it was hot indeed, so we made our way back to the parking garage, paid the fee and drove back to street level.

Our journey back to the hotel wasn't helped by a failure of the net, and the road the hotel is on is so new the car's sat nav didn't have it listed. However, nearby was Rue de Christ, which we remembered the name of, so programmed that in, which got us withing a mile of the hotel, at which point the internet came back and we found our way back.

Before going to the room, we went over the road to the corner store to buy beer, mile, sandwiches and crips, so we would not go down to eat.

And finally up the the air conditioned coolness of the room, where i cracked open the family sized bottle of Le Chouffe as I reviewed my shots from the day.

Sunday 19th July 2026

And so to our last full day in England for about a month.

Being a Sunday that meant phys, of course. But it would have been easy not to do it, but we did.

Jools slept through the alarm, as did I, of course, so we rose at six, then did our stuff and drank coffee before leaving the house at five to seven.

As there was a swimming gala on, again, the pool was closed, so there was just three cars in the car park. We joined them, went in and up the stairs to the gym and di our session.

Another hot and humid session, and another thirty five minutes done.

As we will be in either France or Spain the next few weeks, we decided to go to Chaplin's for breakfast, so down Castle Hill and the Castle into town, parking behind the church, and being at their door as it opened at eight.

We had the usual, mine with added fried bread.

It was too much, really, but we wouldn't eat again until the evening.

Back home along Townwall Street and up Jubilee Way, both of which had no traffic at all, though a P&O ferry was just disgorging traffic, so we powered up the hill just in time.

We both have showers, then the last washing down so that we have lots of clothes for the trip. We sit and listen to Huey on the radio, until it was midday and time for Le Tour.

The Tour would reach the Alps by the end of the day, until then there was a punishing course of 180km up and down, ever-increasingly steeper hills.

On the sharp bend before the final climb, Jonas Vingegaard misjudged the corner, hit a kerb and went down on his shoulder breaking his collarbone. Just as his team were mustering for an assault on the hill and launching Jonas to possibly win.

We'll never know.

Supper was Caprese and salad, as we try to use up all the fresh food in the fridge.

And then to the World Cup Final: Spain v Argentina, which started out well, then Argentina retreated into their back third and encouraged Spain to try to score.

Again the referee was over-lenient, and failed to book Argentine players for fouls.

Fernández was sent off for a second yellow, which should have been a red in its own right, and then it was a matter of whether Spain could score.

It went to extra time, and in the first minute of the second period, Ferran Torres volleyed in to win the game and cup.

At the end, Argentine players threw punches as Spain celebrated.

Best team won.

Saturday 18th July 2026

We have reached the weekend.

A weekend that will bring the 103rd and 104th and final games of the 2026 World Cup, England to play France, though not in the final.

So it goes.

And its the last two days at home before our grand European road trip, which will begin at about half ten Monday morning, and I hope to post blogs each day as we go.

I hope.

I slept in until six, when the alarm brought me from having lunch at the chicken factory where I was on some sort of course. A reminder that I left the chicken factory in September 1990, and due to an accident hadn't worked there after 18th June, so some 36 years ago.

We feed the cats, have coffee, then drive to the sports centre after checking the traffic for jams leading to the port.

All was clear.

Not many at the gym, so we get our bikes, and begin the session.

Thirty five minutes later we were done, drive to Tesco for a few supplies to last the weekend, and back home.

Brews.

Whilst sitting on the patio with Scully, the sun already warm, but not too warm. Just pleasant.

I had received a request if I could show a chap the Violet helleborines at Barham?

As they were not open on Monday, I agreed as I could get my shots too of the penultimate Kent species, so arranged to meet Jonathon at nine under the old railway bridge.

We both arrived at the same time, he got in our car and I drove us both to the parking area, and we chatted orchids as we drove.

Up the usual path beside the wood. The air still, and light green-filtered through the thick beech canopy.

It is a magical place, still, and a million miles and a hundred years from the modern world or motorways and tik tok.

We are met by a local lady walking her two dogs. She said she only saw cyclists and orchidists in the wood. I confirmed we were the latter as we had no bikes, but had cameras!

She was happy that there was unseen nature here on her doorstep, though the two hounds were impatient to get going again.

We walked up the down, along the track further, until we came to the arrow I had made last week with two branches, we went into the wood, and a few yards away from one trunk were three spikes, the one partially open now fully out.

Although one spike had most of its flowers upside down, as the spike was so densely populated that the flowers were unable to rotate, so appeared upside down.

I thought I could remember where the largest of the clumps were, but no matter how hard I looked, walking back and forth, I couldn't find them. So having found two clumps, we decided that we were happy with that, and walked back to the car.

On the way back to the bridge, we stop off so I could show him the Yellow birdsnests.

I explained that a Ghost orchid would little different from a Yellow birdsnest, and with a first scan of your eyes, the small yellow spikes were almost invisible.

I dropped him off, then drove home in the thick port traffic, turning off and going through Coldred and both East and West Langdon before arriving home at half eleven.

Time for a brew before it was time to sit down and watch the latest, 13th, stage of Le Tour, as they peddle closer and closer to The Alps.

The stage took most of the afternoon to play out, with the expected result of Tadej Pogačar breaking away and winning again.

We had supper, then listened to the funk and soul show, while I pondered whether to sit up and watch the England v France 3rd play play off.

In the end I decide not to, so went to bed at half eight, so slept through the game, the result of which I wouldn't find out until the morning.

Friday 17th July 2026

In our memories, summers were long, golden, and filled with singing birds and fluttering butterflies.

Do those days exist now?

Bird song, sadly, as scarce now. Even the dawn chorus is muted, except in spring when the birds have other thigs on their minds.

Spring is poor in east Kent for butterflies, but come summer and those season species emerge, as well as second broods of others, the air can still be filled with flutterbies.

The week has reached Friday, and that means bins, and yoga for Jools, and a day off phys for me.

And maybe a lay in!

With no football to watch the evening before, and asleep before nine, I heard Jools get up at five, but nodded off again until nearly six. I make that nine hours, which was pretty good for high summer.

If that is what this is.

So, I get up, get dressed and find a coffee waiting for me. After drinking that, I put out the two bins and consider my day.

I do some stuff in the garden. I water the pot plants and tomatoes, though the latter will ripen when we're away and will wither before then as there'll be no one to water them.

I fill up the wildlife pond, though see no frogs or newts.

After breakfast, as it was the first day of the "Big Butterfly Count", I spent fifteen minutes counting, and see some 22 Gatekeepers, 5 Common Blues, 5 Large whites and a Wall brown.

Not bad.

I sit and look at our garden, butterflies, bees and beetles all busy collecting nectar and spreading pollen. Mulder and Scully settle down at my feet to snooze.

Jools had gone to her knit and natter group, I thought of going to Tesco for the few things we had forgotten, but thought to leave it to Saturday morning.

Le Tour began at midday. The prologue, then the depart and then the race.

Le Tour is heading east now towards the final week and The Alps, so this was the last semi-flat stage for a while, and featured a breakaway for nearly forty riders. The countryside, villages and towns slid by. I tried to stay awake.

I come second in the music quiz, one of only six to guess the correct answer. Now, will I be able to take part from that France next week? We shall see.

And after supper, early to bed at half eight for some much-needed sleep.

It was nearly dark by nine.

Thursday 16th July 2026

The weeks still rattle by, and make it even more manic, we are going away in four days.

Although most preparations are done, there will be the great cat round up on Monday morning before we can load up the car and leave.

It would be easy to let phys slip this week, what with it being so hot and humid. I feel bad enough not doing a full forty minutes, doing just thirty five these days.

But upon our return, we shall get back on the straight and narrow, and do even more than before.

And this day came after England's exit from the World Cup. As always with England, the media and fans, expectations were high, too high to be met. And in the final quarter on Wednesday, England were just outplayed and too passive.

But the sun rose still Thursday morning, and life is still good.

I did not want to get up at five to go to the gym, but did. Cats were fed, coffee made, and we were five minutes late leaving the house, so that the centre was open when we arrived. We went up to the gym and got to work on the bikes.

The air con in the gym is great, except in the corners, which is where the two bikes are, so it is warm even before you begin to turn the peddles.

We stood outside for ten minutes to cool down, then drove to Tesco for a few things and to fill up the car. Back home for a brew and breakfast.

Time for a shower, shave and change of clothes, before out again, this time to Deal to get some medical supplies for the trip, then at midday go to the chippy for lunch.

We will be away for nearly four weeks, so need stuff to cover all bases, including factor 50 sun block as we'll be at over 2,000m at times, then in Spain which could be hotter than the surface of the sun.

In a break from the usual, I have cod instead of skate, which is what I fancied for a change.

The shop soon filled up, but we had our table in the corner so we could people watch both inside and out.

The town was filling up, as to be expected for a seasidey town in July, so we walk back to the car and drive home. Skipping an ice cream.

Just be coincidence, Le Tour started a few minutes before we got home, so with a fresh brew I sat down to watch, and try to stay awake.

Another lightning quick stage, with a bunch finish and a huge crash in the last 500m.

Phew.

For the evening, we had tickets for a show: Arthur Smith and Phil Nice at the Aster.

It was a pleasant evening for a drive along to coast through Walmer and into Deal. The Just Reproach was full, so we skip a swifter and walk round to the theatre, and after showing our tickets, we go to the bar for a quick drink.

Arthur and Phil were of the generation before the 80s alternative comedy, so started in a review when there wasn't really a Fringe", they then formed a double act, had a couple of TV series where they did spoof travel and history shows, decades ahead of the curve, then split up at the end of the 80s.

The show was a muse on age and growing old. rowing old in an ever changing world, and the difficulties in maintaining friendships. It was pretty good.

But the air con had been switched off, so that by the interval it was like a swamp, so I stood outside and watched the boy-racers tear up and down the short street, impressing the nesting pigeons.

There was a brief Q&A, then all over, we walked back to the car and home.

Time for a night cap, and then to bed.

Thomas Tuchel: what now

Do I think Thomas Tuchel should be replaced?

If the answer is yes, then the next question would be, who would you put in his place?

There is a certain Pep who has no job at the moment, though he may want some time off after his decade at Citeh.

As I have remarked before, its not as though England appoint the same kind of manager. Over the years they have tried just about everything, and the one who worked was the guy promoted from coaching the U21 side.

Thomas Tuchel had a different approach to Southgate, with the expectations that the German's approach would result in England being able to cope with the pressures of leading big games and seeing them out to win.

That did not happen.

I guess my point is that although results have improved, and England in most tournaments get at least to the quarter finals, what they do when they get there ends up with the same results: play well then retreat further and further back.

And furthermore, Tuchel seems to be suggesting that the players didn't follow his game plan. And yet it was Tuchel who made those poorly thought out substitutions, which meant England would really struggle to mount attacks if Argentina levelled in the closing stages.

There is to be a review, and the BBC is reporting that players are unhappy with the negative tactics Tuchel employed. So it is possible that a few months after signing a contract extension, he may be gone.

Or not.

Of Thomas Tuchel and bitter disappointment

Last night, England conceded two goals in the final ten minutes of their game with Angentina, to crash out again at the semi-final stage.

Tuchel was employed to win the 2026 World Cup, and to ensure, in exactly this kind of situation, being a goal up in the latter stages of a game, being abler to close out the result at win.

He failed to do that.

In fact, his England side bottled it even more than those under Southgate. Falling back to defend deeper and deeper.

Like they did against Mexico and Norway.

England hung on in those two games, but to defend half an hour, an Argentine side looking to win back to back cups, was always going to be a tall order.

On those final twenty minutes, Argentina scored twice, hot the post twice, and Pickford saved two headers on the line. It could and should have been a heavier defeat.

In the 35 minutes between England scoring and the end of the game, England enjoyed just 19% possession.

Tuchel's substitutions were defensive players replacing attacking ones, so that when Argentina did level, there wasn't the players on the pitch for England to fight back.

Tuchel had one job: not to repeat Southgate's mistakes. But he did, and more.

Better to live one day as a lion, than a life as a mouse.

Argentina wanted to win from the start, I heard to described as they went into the game prepared for a knife fight, while England saw it as a step to the final. A friendly referee didn't punish repeated fouls on England, so they were emboldened. Breaking up England's play, so it became a battle, one that meant England tired.

But they did score. A fine goal, but then sat on it, invited pressure. Invisted Messi to play by ceeding space and time for him to pick out passes.

And punish.

Harry Kane will be 36 at the next tournament, and he has hinted he would be too old. What will England do without him?

Wednesday 15th July 2026

There are some 28 native Kent orchid species that in most years you can see. If you know where to go and when.

There are orchids for most habitats: down, meadow, dunes, fields, and woods. Many are showy, others less so, but even the tiny Musk has a certain charm. If you get close enough.

But there is one that disappoints almost every time. Doubly so it is found only in at one site in north Kent, and as it has learned to self-pollenate, its flowers rarely ever open.

It is small, straggly, usually covered by ants, and is found now at just one location, in a lay by on a minor A-road between two picturesque villages.

Epipactis phyllanthes, aka The Green-flowered helleborine, aka the Green-flowered disappointment.

And I had not made the trip since 2021, and vowed not to go again.

There are, however, other things of interest in the area: the lavender fields, Dark Green fritillary butterfly, and Lullingstone church perhaps.

And on the way we go go to The Larches for some BLH action, and maybe Yellow birdsnests too.

So, I got the gang together, and all was set for Wednesday morning.

I dropped Jools off in town for her class, then scuttled back home for breakfast and tidy up. Iain arrived at ten past nine, then on route to collect Fran from the station, we picked up Jools.

So by half nine we were heading up Old Folkestone Road to join the A20, thus missing out the port and any possible delays.

Then it was a cruise up through Folkestone and Ashford, through Operation Brock contraflow, before finally turning up Detling Hill, and easing onto Pilgrim's Way, where we stop by the reserve entrance.

The Larches is well known, I guess, but for the first time visitor, the large sign for it is now hidden behind vegetation, so would be difficult.

Then along the path beside the road for five minutes, no real indication that there would be any open space, until you reach a crossing of paths, and in front is the meadow-cum-clearing.

Our first task was to turn left to look for the Yellow birdsnest under the canopy of some large trees, and in deep leaf litter we find three emerging spikes, in no better condition that the ones we found at Barham earlier in the week.

After snapping those, we turn round and walked back to the clearing, taking the side track to the upper gate, and from there I could see an amazing almost yellow BLH spike.

BLH are a variable species, with size, spike density, flower colour and so on differs from plant to plant, but here there are almost green ones all the way through to dark flowered spikes, almost chocolate-coloured.

Fran spots and snaps her first Chalkhill blue of the year, but it flies away when it sees my DSLR, as they always seem to do.

Then walk to the first of the orchids, getting some fine close ups with spikes covered in ants, and some with drunken wasps crawling among the flowers, their heads overed in pollen.

Huge amounts of St John's Wort covered the ground, and elsewhere, Ploughman's spikenard was coming into flower, though plants less vigorous than in previous years.

By the trees, there were many more BLH spikes, including the fine spike with Variegated basal leaves.

Finally, to the other path running along the bottom of the meadow, where there were dozens more spikes of BLH, some chocolate brown, and some green, many between the two.

An amazing visit.

We walk back to the car, then out back onto Detling Hill, turning down towards Maidstone, then back onto the motorway towards London.

We turn off just before it joins the M25, and turn back down the hill, across two roundabout before taking the turning to Eynsford.

Through the village, which is clogged with traffic caused by delivery vehicles, delivering. But out the other side, we pull up at the lay by.

On the left hand side, there were perhaps a dozen small plants, some with malformed spikes, those with normal flowers were closed tightly shut.

We take pictures, then I go to explore the bank to see if the colony had spread. I do find two spikes of a helleborine, but think they were of a BLH. Apparently there were more plants there, but I was away of Jools, Fran and Iain waiting on the road below, so I walk back.

From there it's a short drive to the next lay by, where from the opposite verge you can get a free view of the lavender fields.

The field has several people in, enjoying the scent and sight of the huge field. We take shots then get back in the car and drive to the country park.

Living here, on a bank beside a golf fairway is a large colony of butterflies, Dark green fritillaries, as species I have seen in Northumberland, but not in Kent.

From the café, it is a long walk up the down, through the wood, then along one fairway before crossing it by the tee, then if clear, across the second fairway to the bank.

The clouds of earlier had cleared, and it was now hot, so we sweated our way to the bank, and began to look.

Out target is a large orange butterfly, and should have been obvious, and in good numbers. But we see none. Nor do we see any Marbled whites either, just lots of Meadow browns and Gatekeepers, with a few newly emerged Common blues being very active.

We also come across a damselfly, a Wite-legged damsel, right on top of the down, a mile from the stream far below. We get shots.

We looked for an hour, then with time ebbing away, we walk back to the café, where we buy drinks and sit in the shade.

It was by now three, and the visit to the church was scrubbed, as the gates to the castle were locked. Although as we drove through Eynsford, I saw a sign over the old packhorse bridge and ford pointing the way to it.

I was set for home, however, and we made good time back to the motorway, where we could have turned onto the M25 in either direction, or back down to M20 to home.

We went south.

On the way we dropped Fran off at Faversham, then down the A2 in light traffic to Dover and home.

11,000 steps done, and hot and bothered. And hungry.

I cook breaded chicken, lentils, and peas & sweetcorn, rustled up in half an hour.

And then, eyes down for the big game, which kicked off at eight: England v Argentina.

Tuesday 14th July 2026

Tuesday again.

And as usual, it is up with the larks to go to the gym sharpish.

This was made easier as my stupid brain woke me up at three, and did not want to let me go back to sleep.

So I was first up, so test and jab Scully, then feed her and the rest, before filling and boiling the kettle for that first coffee of the day.

Always the best.

Off to the gym, and it was packed, at least waiting to go in as there were parents and kids waiting to get into the pool, they went right to the changing rooms, and we went left and up the stairs.

I get my favourite machine, set up a podcast and began to peddle.

Although it seemed to be cool outside, it was humid enough inside, and soon it was uncomfortable. So I did thirty five minutes again, which I decide was close enough.

Back down to the car, drive home. I sat outside to cool down, and Jools brought me a fresh brew to enjoy in the cool of the morning.

Jools was gone at seven, as the car needed an oil change, so it told us, so she dropped the car off then walked to the centre for her class.

I would stay home and chill, have a shower and shave.

And was human again.

With the wind set in the north-east, clouds remained all day, so was cool and pleasant, which was very nice.

At midday, eyes down for the depart of Le Tour, a monster stage over the Massif Central, with hardly any flat ground all 180 km.

Phew, I worn out watching it, so how they felt in that is another matter.

And then, to the World Cup.

Spain v France, and what should have been a classic, two evenly matched teams.

But was transpired was Spain not letting France getting into their stride, closing down players, and scoring goals.

Scoring goals wins games.

Spain cantered to a 2-0 win, and France lost, on Bastille Day as well.

Monday 13th July 2026

Monday rolls round again.

And as ever, my brain has me awake before five, though I lay back down after checking the time, and fall back to sleep.

A nice quiet morning in which to wake up, drink coffee, before being dropped off in Deal by Jools at half seven, as I had an appointment with the pediatrist.

So, with fifty minutes to kill, Jools dropped me off near to where The Berry used to be, so I could cut across the grass to the promenade, and walk towards the pier, looking for botanical delights to snap.

Most people out at that time are dogwalkers and joggers.

And me.

I am careful when I cross the cycle-lane to check both ways lest be run down or be shouted at by some lycra-clad buffoon.

But nothing exciting happened to recount.

I walked to the castle, past the fishing fleet grounded on the shingle beach before turning inland towards the clinic.

My feet were checked, nails cut and the rest, while I talk about moths to the nurse.

Jools had suggested I might like to catch the bus home rather than wait for her, as she had to take Cleo and Poppy to the vets for their six-monthly check-up.

I said I'd think about it.

But needed a hair cut, as our trip to southern Europe is a week away, and I didn't want to be wearing a bearskin in forty degree heat.

The first barber I came to had a seat free, so I go in, tell him to make it short, and he gets to work with his shears.

Not as meticulous as the one in Dover or Folkestone I go to normally, but the aim was to be shorn, and shorn short.

C/out satis.

I went to Greggs to get something for lunch: a four pack of sausage rolls would do, then wander to the small bus station.

I say bus station, its a double long bus stop, that clearly used to be busier, but now just has services to Dover or Sandwich, and buses to St Maggies leave hourly, or is it two-hourly?

Anyway, it was due to leave at ten.

It pulled in a two minutes to ten, and five of us got on it, costing me three pounds, for which I got a mystery tour round the housing estates of Walmer.

Which was nice.

Back home for a late breakfast and a fresh hot brew, and then time for some light orchiding.

The season is drawing to an end, but with four more species, possibly, to see, we would be heading back to Barham.

First of all, we stop at Hearts Delight Lane, and walk up hoping to see some Broad-leaved helleborines. There used to be dozens here, but we found just one in flower, with several blind spikes in the undergrowth.

But no Yellow birdsnests.

Further along we stop at the dog-walker's wood, and after some searching find about eight Yellow birdsnest spikes, though most were already going brown soon after emerging.

Then to our favourite wood, and the long walk up the path up the down, with gnarled old trees on the left, and majestic beech trees reaching for the sky on the other.

One last push up the steep slope, then began the hunt, using coordinates from previous years after not finding any, I do find three spikes near to where they had been previously.

Further searching revealed three more clumps, the last one with an upright spike with flowers just beginning to open.

We drive back home, getting back at just after one. But what is this? No cycling or football?

Le Tour is on a rest day, and the semi-finals of the World Cup begin on Tuesday.

Outside the wind turned to the north east, clouds rolled in, and it got almost chilly. Doors were closed and thoughts about putting a jumper on.

We had a snack for tea, and to be honest, I was pretty tired. So at eight went for a shower and so went to bed.

It was dark by quarter to nine, and I was asleep soon after.

Sunday 12th July 2026

Due to the late night previously, caused by football, I skipped phys this Sunday.

The plan had been to lay in.

I heard Jools get up at half five to feed the cats, would I go back to sleep?

Yes I would.

In fact I slept until quarter to nine.

Almost tea time!

And then lay in bed until my woolly head cleared.

No much to fill the day with, just go to see Jen as we had not seen her since she came back from Sylv's last weekend, mainly because she's been watching Wimbledon, and I have been watching Le Tour.

She was finishing painting her dining room, after the wallpaper didn't look good.

So, it smelt of wet paint as there was wet paint. Makes sense.

We talk, have a brew and so catch up.

But time was getting on. The depart was at half twelve, and we had to get back to have lunch and then retire to the sofa to enjoy a 185km race across the Massive Centrale. Up and down all afternoon long.

After the end of the stage, I went to the end of our road and to the bottom of Station Road to snap a fine clump of Common ragwort, which had caught my eye earlier.

That done we could think about supper of party food and tapas. And a beer, before weariness overcame us and we went to bed at half eight.

What would we do on Monday without football or Le Tour as it was the first rest day?

Memento mori

This week, a former Conservative MP and Minister, now a member of Farage's Reform died.

Not only that, it was announced that Anne Widdecombe was murdered.

A shocking event.

Now, I don't wish death or a violent one on anyone, and I wish she were still alive.

But. She was a dreadful racist and homophobe, who used her claimed faith as an excuse. She also spoke strongly against immigration and immigrants, and once asked a person who challenged her on thos views as to if the person was a communist. No she was the Chairman of the Association at which you were invited to speak.

As a general rule, if you don't want people to speak ill of you when you're dead, don't do bad things, or say bad things, when you're alive. Especially as miost on the right spend so much demonising those of us in the centre or on the left, what do you expect?

Margaret Thatcher's policies destroyed industries and communities accross the nation, sent generations onto the scrapheap. And yet Conservatives were surprised when many others celebrated her death: what did they expect.

I have heard many of Widdecombe's friends say what a straight talking person she was. Well, if your firend is racist, then it is time for your friendship to end. Demonising a minority is bad enough, but to use your religion and beliefs as an excuse. I am sure if there is a an afterlife and Heavan and Hell, then she will be on the escalator going down, St Peter having turned her away.

Should we pretend her views were those of a bigot? No, we should tell the truth.

I have always said that we all light up a room, either when we enter or when we leave. Be a person who lights up a room, or the world when you enter it, not have others be happy when you leave.

Sorry if any are offended by this, but it is what it is.

Saturday 11th July 2026

It was said during yesterday's coverage, that Le Tour is the best tourist advertisement that France has.

This is true.

In half an hour yesterday, I saw three places I think we should visit on our long drive back home after the eclipse.

Most impressive was the town and chateau of Beynac-et-Cazenac, which the coverage showed as a drone flight along the river.

I think this will be well worth a few hours of our time. If we can fit it in.

Before Le Tour there was morning.

And Saturday meant phys. So, up at six, drink coffee and all ready to leave at ten to six.

I do thirty five minutes, listening to The Bugle, but that was enough. Just so humid. And hot.

Afterwards we go to Tesco to top up the fridge, manage to spend a king's ransom on nothing much, other than another bottle of rum for more rumtopf action.

Back home to pack the shopping away, then make brews and have breakfast.

After a shower, I prepare the pineapple: half for the rumtopf and half for us, some for breakfast.

And so it was half twelve, and time to take my place on the sofa, Poppy sleeping on blankets nearby.

The day had began bright, but soon sea mist and low clouds swept in, egged on by a keen cool breeze. I won't lie, it was very refreshing, and it stayed like that most of the day into the evening, which should have meant a good night's sleep for once.

The cycling was steady, and the only excitement was whether the lone remaining breakaway rider could make it to the finish before the peloton caught him. Sadly, he was caught with 1.7km to go, swept up by the sprint teams all ready for the crazy technical finish.

We had warmed up focaccia and more Caprese for dinner, then had the radio on for some funk and soul, as the evening game wasn't due to kick off until ten.

And the game was Norway v England: Haarland v Kane. It was a tense game, with Norway the better team overall, and they scored the fist goal near the end of the first half, with England levelling a few minutes later.

A tense second half ended with no more goals, but Bellingham scored his and England's second three minutes into extra time, and England hung on.

A good game of football. No bookings, no simulations, just pure football, and all hugs and handshakes at the end of the game, with players and fans of England singing Wonderwall together.

It was nearly 01:00 and I was beyond tired.

Friday 10th July 2026

Friday.

And in a turn up for the books, I laid in until ten to six.

Jools was already ready for yoga, but made me a coffee, so I could sit and look at the usual sites while my brain woke up.

There was also the moth trap to check. Nothing really rare, but a few worth snapping.

After dismantling it, I put the bits in the shade so the moths could fly off when they wanted.

The recycle bins put out. And tasks for the day were done.

Outside it was another sunny and warm day, though not as hot as last week. I opened both doors for the breeze, then began the task of making a focaccia loaf.

This involves mixing the wet dough, then every hour folding it at least four times with oiled fingers. So that by one, the dough was full of bubbles and put into a baking tray for a final oiling and rise.

I also put in stuffed peppers into the dough, to add something to the flavours and when eating.

There was more Le Tour at half midday. The peloton has to go nine days until the first rest day, and so it was another fairly flat day with the breakaway kept on a short leash and a manic bunch finish.

Once the race was over for the day, I warm the bread again, and prepare Caprese, and we have a right feast once the music quiz is done for the day.

After that there was just enough time to clear up before the evening's game: Belgium v Spain, a proper top quality match, and the best match up of the quarter finals.

Spain win it after a goalkeeping mistake, 2-1, and so Belgium fall again on the biggest stage, and many of their best known players will be too old come the next finals in four years.

And so to bed.

Thursday 9th July 2026

Thursday again.

And temperatures were to be near thirty again, though for us on the cliffs there would be a little breeze, so be cooler.

As usual, we were up at ten past five, fed the cats, got dressed, had coffee, and were out of the house by ten to six to be at the gym, though as ever it was the pool that would be where most people waiting would be going.

Up the stairs and on the bike. I set up the latest Sound of Football pod, and got to work.

I did 35 minutes. I was hot enough, and near enough to my target.

Outside we pause to cool down, then back to the car to drive down to the seafront so Jools could go swimming, and me paddle for the benefit of my legs.

Before leaving home I noticed an accident on Townwall Street, but thought it would be cleared by the time it was time to return home.

The sea was cold and wet. And the shingle got under my feet. I didn't stay in long.

We drove down Union Street, and at the traffic lights there was a policeman directing traffic, making port-bound traffic go through red lights and onto the wrong side of the dual-carriageway.

We had to wait ten minutes before we were allowed to turn right, and as we went past the accident scene, all debris had been cleared up, but there was a forensics van with its doors open.

Later it emerged that a woman pedestrian had been struck by a truck at twenty to four, and had been airlifted to London with life-threatening injuries.

We made it home safe, if a little late.

We both had showers and changed, and had the rest of the day to ourselves. For me there was a long mountain stage in the Pyrenees, starting before midday, so I made sure I was ready.

We can have both the back and front doors open, so this creates a breeze, though by four in the afternoon, the sun has swung to the west so that it shines in the living room window and turns sitting on the sofa into being like being in an oven.

I close the curtains.

Meanwhile, Le Tour has cycled to the foothills of the Pyrenees and began to climb. The big climb was the Col du Tourmalet, which looked like cycling up a wall.

In extreme heat, the peloton was shattered when Tadej Pogačar took to the front and with Jonas Vingegaard in his wake. But despite being in the form of his live, Vingegaard slipped further back on the final 5km, then further again on the descent, and again on the climb to the finish.

Pogačar is a machine!

A four hour gap to the football, where France took on Morocco, and won 2-0 without really breaking sweat, so make it to the semi-finals.