Tuesday 11th August 2026

The holiday is well and truly over as Tuesday rolled round, and so the alarm had to be set so we could go to the gym early doors.

I had weeks of podcasts ready to listen to, what could go wrong?

What could go wrong was that the rechargeable battery had gone flat.

This I only discovered when at the gym beside the bike, and all revved up and ready to peddle.

I tried and tried and connect the headphones with the phone, and nothing was doing. So, the only choice was to listen to the Eurodisco on the gym hi-fi, and watch the video of a bike ride through the French Alps.

You can guess why I chose that.

As the first session back after 24 days, I did 21 minutes, and so reached the Rush time: 21:12, I called it a day, and said I'd do more the next session on Thursday.

I had also managed to strain my knee sitting badly at the table, so with every step I felt my right knee was going to collapse.

But didn't.

And through the day it got better.

We had showers, and then took the day easy.

I filled the day watching "I am a cliché", the life story of the erstwhile Poly Styrene, aka Marianne Joan Elliott-Said, the lead singer and songwriter for X-Ray-Spex.

A remarkable story, and a sad one told by her daughter, who used the film I think as a journey of discovery as who her Mother was before she was born.

Marianne/Poly was ahead of the curve when it came to DIY fashions, having lived through a hard life as the child of a mixed race couple.

Anyway, its a film well worth seeking out, and is currently on Sky Arts, which for me is free, rather than renting through Amazon.

The other task for the day was to search the listings for the Heritage Weekends in September, and choosing which places to visit or have to book for. I will try a few of these, and others on the Ride and Stride list, which takes place at the same time on the same day.

There was no football, but the start of the season gets ever closer, with the grande depart for the football league kicks off this weekend.

We were going out on the patio to watch the bats emerge and hunt for food, but tiredness overtook us, so we went upstairs to bed.

Monday 10th August 2026

Were not the weather so hot and dry, we would be in the south of France, preparing to cross over the Pyrenees into Spain.

As it is, we're back home, and its Monday morning.

The last day before we restart phys and life returns to something like normal.

But life is not normal. Like France, the colour of the countryside and gardens is brown, and there is has been little or no rain since the middle of May, apparently.

We had a little water in the butts left over, so the ponds were topped up, and the Canas and tomatoes given a slight drink, but most of our other plants are dead or beyond help.

Life is far from normal.

Jools went out soon after breakfast, and so I grabbed a camera and went for a short walk, hoping to see butterflies or other insects.

And in that I was successful, though by the time I stirred myself it was mid-morning and all species too flighty to be snapped.

The hedgerows are full of autumn fruit, though whether the local farmer will let nature or us harvest the bounty is another matter.

The horses in the new paddock at the end of he street try to nibble what native plants have survived thus far, otherwise stamp their hooves for the return of who will bring hay, as the winter food stocks are used to cover the gaps.

Past the old butterfly glade, now overgrown, I walk to the paddock at Fleet House to snap what butterflies there were around the abandoned farm equipment, though they too were too flighty to be snapped.

It was hot. Not overly so, but hot enough. Hot enough to want to get back home for a cold drink.

Back down Collingwood, then down the track to our street and back home.

I was gone less than an hour, and the walk was pretty flat, at least compared to where we were a week ago.

I arrive back just as Jools returned, so the kettle was put on and brew made.

That made life better.

But it really was too hot to sit in the back garden, at least until the afternoon when the shadows cover the top patio.

And when it does we can admire the hedges, now shorn, as Rob did them whilst we were away, and bagged up the clippings, the clippings which Jools dropped off at the tip earlier.

We stay inside during the hottest part of the day, out of the sun, trying to stay cool.

A cold beer or cider went well with lunch, as did an ice cream and hour later. The day grew old.

For the evening there was the last game of the first round of the League Cup, which passed a couple of hours until it was time to go to bed at ten.

Some rum helped ease the pain of the dullness of the early season football.

The earth dies burning

Last winter, at least to my memory, was very wet.

So wet that the Drellingore flowed before Christmas I seem to recall, and was on February25th this year.

It usually took months of rain for this to flow, and yet there it was living proof of the abundance of rain we in east Kent had received up to that point.

The last significant rain I can recall was on 20th May, this was my comment on the day:

"Water! Falling from the sky!

These are the last few days of "spring", with, according to the Met Office, summer will be arriving on Friday, and by Saturday it will be 29 degrees.

By which point we can all complain about how darn hot it is.

But until then, it is cloudy, with frequent heavy rain showers, a keen breeze, and we need the heating on.

Not that it was cold, just felt cold."

After that damp winter, we had a dry Spring, followed by a dry June and July. At Kew, there was no measureable rain for the whole month of July, the first month on record that had happened.

Not only was it dry in east Kent, or all of Kent, or the South East of England or all of England, but most of Europe too.

May Day weekend we had temperatures of 37 degrees in the south east, the hottest May or June day on record.

Wild flowers failed, crops failed, rains failed.

Then came the wildfires.

Not just here, but in Canada and parts of the US too. In the Pacific a mega-El Nino is brewing that will put more heat into the oceans and provide the energy for more extreme weather.

The colour of western Europe this summer is burnet brown grass. We saw it all up our drive through western France, then into Normandy to Calais, then here in Kent. All bar the hardiest of native plants with the deepest of tap roots is dead.

There will be low yields from crops, food prices will go up and there will be shortages. And yet our new Prime Minister has said nothing about the drought.

A new heatwave is coming on Thursday, London might hit 38 degrees of higher. It'll be cooler here, but not by much.

Looking at the two week forecast on the BBC, there might be rain on the 22nd.

Might be.

Of course we cut short our holiday due to high temperatures, returning home to where it was, for a time, bearable.

The right wing press report on the drought and wildfires, while they attack the Government for their net zero policy, the one policy that might turn things around, and instead demand we drill for more oil. While our techbro overlords demand data centres that each will consume more water and energy than a city, and pump out more heat.

The techbros plan trips to Mars to make that habitable while it would be cheaper and more sensible to save the planet we currently live on.

Sunday 9th August 2026

We should have been in Bezier this morning, instead we woke up in our own bed, a cool and refreshing night meant lots of much needed sleep.

Jools went for a walk first thing, while I snoozed some more, only to wake up and find the house empty when I did finally get up just after six.

I made a coffee, then sat in the cool morning on the patio with Scully, who was very happy with that turn of events.

I asked Jools if she thought Ange and Sean would be down the beach, she thought they might, so we jumped in the car and drove down to the prom, parking near the sliver of beach, as it was high tide.

But something odd was going on.

It seemed the high tide had brough a shoal of whitebait into the harbour, and near to the shore, herrings were leaping trying to catch them. And in the air and on the surface, huge numbers of gulls joined in the hunt, making a huge noise about it, with more and more gulls flying in as the shoal surfaced with splashes of water.

There was hardly and open water along the shore, as the gulls, fish and cormorants all had their fill of the tiny fish.

Ange and Sean joined the crowd in watching, then smiled as they realised we had come to say hello. Hugs and handshakes followed.

In a couple of weeks, Ange is going to swim across the Solent to the Isle of Wight, something like three miles, but in a place with very strong tides. They have both been practicing for months, so are just about ready.

We leave them, and drive back to Townwall Street, now cleared of Saturday's holiday traffic, and head home for a brew and breakfast.

And that was the excitement for the day done and dusted.

There was football in the afternoon, Celtic vs someone, though by the time we had eaten our lunch of chicken and salad, Celtic were 4-0 up going into half time, and the former Norwich target, Kasper Hogh, scoring a hat trick.

In a surprise, Steve from next door came round bearing beers, so we popped a couple open and sat on the sofa to watch the end of the game, then some of the women's Le Tour, before switching over to see another League Cup game.

Three glasses of beer each of at least 8% were drank, and the afternoon had turned to evening.

Saturday 8th August 2026

Back home.

Nine days early.

And on top of that it was cool enough during the night to allow us to sleep well, and long into the morning. What with no cats to disturb us, we slept to nearly seven.

Outside, it was cool enough to sit on the patio, even in the full sun , well, until after ten.

As stressful as the cat round-up is before going away, there is the joy of the collection upon our return.

Before the collection, I went to Tesco where the store refurb is not yet complete, and some of the aisles have been moved, so its a reach search to find things like tea and coffee.

I buy salad, fruit and vegetables, mostly, as we need to eat healthy once again.

Back home for breakfast, and Jools then is off to collect the cats. No emergencies while we were away, and Scully in particular seemed to have enjoyed it there, even if she was in a pen on her own.

Upon their return, we let them out of the boxes at the top of the drive, so they can explore, check scent markings and get used to being home in their own time.

Both Mulder and Scully claimed not to have been fed, despite Jools having seen their bowls that morning, almost emptied.

We are followed by them for a while, then life settles down to how it was before we went away.

Norwich were on the TV in the afternoon, and Poppy slept near me on the blanket under the front window as the game started, all curled up and content with how the day panned out.

Norwich were playing MK Dons in the League Cup, and any thoughts of a struggle were put away as City went two up in the first six minutes, and never really looked in danger, so cruised to a 4-1 win.

Stinky cheese and crusty fresh bread for supper. Of course. The bread goes stale pretty quick, but is good enough with wedges of fromage on it.

After that, we both grew tired pretty quick, so were in bed by half eight, with it nearly being dark outside.

Friday 7th August 2026

Time to go home.

But before then, a short drive into the city to visit and photograph the cathedral, which if I remembered right has some of the oldest stained glass in all of Europe.

We woke up after a long sleep, the traffic on the bypass outside didn't keep us awake, and the cool temperatures meant it was easy to snuggle up under the duvet.

Cool?

Yes, eight degrees, though it would warm up quickly, but with the roof window open, it allowed the cool air in, and the sound of bird song.

We went down for breakfast after showers, and found the usual mix of fruit, bread, yogurts, and preserves. And lots of strong coffee.

We drove into the centre, parking at another underground car park called "Cathedral". And this time the large churchy building nearby was the cathedral.

Like most cities we drove into, it was quiet, even in the midst of what would be rush hour in Britain. And in the circular underground car park, only about 10% of spaces were taken.

Out into the cool of the morning, blue shadows fulling the streets, and over the roofs were the twin spires of the cathedral.

I got busy snapping the north, west and east triple doorways, as I knew it would open at half eight, but then mass would start at nine, and as I guessed, insides were signs asking no photography when a mass was being held.

Which gave me half an hour. How many shots could I take in 30 minutes?

Nearly 600 if you were wondering what the answer was.

Around the outside of the Sanctuary were incredible carved friezes depicting the life of Jesus, which I recorded in two batches.

Between I put on the big boy lens, and started to record the glass, starting with the rose window in the west, and the three 12th century panels below.

I had only taken a fraction of the shots I wanted, when the clock chimed nine, and the Bishop emerged, and the choir began to sing.

We could have waited for mass to be completed, but that would have been in thirty or more minutes, but we still had a four and a half hour drive to get to Calais, then get onto a shuttle.

We'd best be going, I said.

So we did.

Though the smell of fresh coffee in the row of restaurants on the main square did smell amazing.

Now.

Both Jools and I are old enough to remember, and experience, the traffic jams around the Paris ring road, so our intention was to go to Rouen, then up the coast road from there. Even if it did mean using the crazy fur lane link road that winds it way through a commercial estate, and is clogged with trucks and holiday traffic.

It was a quiet run up to Rouen, along less-known dual carriageways and motorways, but then onto that ring road. Not as bad as I remember, but with roadworks on the bridge over The Seine, but traffic on the road we merged on were allowing one car at a time to blend in, so we made progress, and once through the tunnel we were back out into the countryside and up to warp speed.

And so we ate the miles up until we crested a hill near Boulogne-sur-Mer, and the Kent coast could be seen some 30 miles away.

We paid the last toll of the trip, and dropped into Calais, where we had four stops. Well, two in fact.

The Carrefour hypermarket near the port for some beer. Proper 1664, brewed in France and different to the pish we get in Britain. Then to Calais Vin for some Belgian beer, French cidre, more French wine, and cheap pink fizz.

Next door to the fromagerie for a selection of cheeses, all stinky and runny. Before going to the patisserie for some fresh crusty bread. And we were done.

The car was loaded, and had just enough room for us. We moved off going down two junctions of the motorway to the Tunnel

Check in was easy, then was the chaos of getting through the two sets of border controls. There are now staff directing cars on which lane to join, so not the free-for-all of old, but it still took an hour, meaning we missed our booked train, and there wasn't another for an hour!

So, we sat in line for half an hour before boarding, and then the five minute wait before the train moved off.

We got off at ten to four, and once we took the A20 exit, we were in Folkestone, onto the A20, over the cliffs and down into Dover.

A ferry had dicked, so traffic was heavy up Jubilee Way, but it moved quickly, and so we were able to turn onto the Deal road, then off into the village and home.

Home.

The car was unloaded. Washing put into the machine, and clean clothes put away.

We worked well as a team, and by six so much done, I could take part in the quiz, though I jumped in early and got it wrong.

Jools went to the Chinese, so for supper we dined well and drank ice cold beer/cider, as the evening darked outside, and was dark by half eight.

But we were home, so went to bed and slept well, me after 15 hours driving over two days, and Jools having to suffer my driving for 15 hours over two days!

Thursday 6th August 2026

The decision had been made, the holiday was aborted. Our next two hotels were cancelled, though we would only get partial refunds.

It was a twelve hour trip, at least to Calais, so we would break it on the way north. Break it at Chartres, as the cathedral there has some incredible early stained glass.

If I remembered correctly.

That thought did worry me through the day on the road.

We booked at another Ibis on the outskirts of the city, and the sat nav told us we had 485 miles to go.

We rose at half five, had breakfast at six, and after loading thew car the dash said it was already 27.5 degrees, and they sun wasn't yet up.

As we walked out of the hotel, a pair of Black redstarts greeted us, chirping for food, or more likely, water. We had none. Or nothing to put it in.

Arles had not yet woken up, so we had an easy run to the motorway, the day's first light illuminating the apartment buildings as we went west.

West to Montpellier on quiet roads, then north, north along where we travelled two years ago to Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert and the Devil's Bridge.

Traffic was light, driving was fun, and the road climbed to nearly 3,000 feet, up a long twisty valley and onto the high plains beyond.

We cruised at 70mph, and made good time.

The landscape the whole way was brown and desiccated. The summer has been long and hot, and the drought carries on.

In places we saw the evidence of wildfires. Just small ones, but fields and copses of threes were just brown stains and charred skeletons.

We broke into the less than 400 miles to go barrier.

And it took and age to get to the less than 300 mile stage.

We stopped for a drink and a snack. The car needed filling. Again.

The road turned into a motorway, and soon we were approaching Viaduc de Millau, this time in bright sunshine, the support towers for the deck standing stark against the dark blue sky.

We were making for the city of Clermont-Ferrand, where we would join the main road north. It took forever to get there. The morning grew old and the sun was overhead. Traffic was thicker, but we pressed on.

We stopped at a small service station, the same one we had lunch in some two years ago. A baguette with local salami and pickles, along with a Fanta.

Onwards in the afternoon sunshine, and mild heat of the day to Moulins and then Bourges. I was struggling to stay awake. I tried music. A podcast. Jools snoozed beside me as I tried to blink myself awake.

We stopped at an Aire, and I grabbed a double espresso and a sticky cake, walked around some, and felt better.

We had less than 100 miles to go.

At Orléans the sat nav's instructions and display said different things, so I followed the display. And was wrong. A twenty mile diversion, doubling back and onwards before turning off and crossing over the fields to the point where we saw the twin spires of Chartres cathedral.

But that was for the morning.

We made it to the hotel, another Ibis Styles, this time on the edge of a commercial park.

I had booked a huge family toom. We had a double bed each, a table each, and in the bathroom, a basin each too.

I had noticed two bars on the way to the hotel. The first one was a shop and bar, so we walked the fifty yards there, and found a good selection on tap. Also they did a charcuterie board.

We feasted on cured meats, cheeses and pickles, as I made three pints disappear.

The long drive, lack of sleep soon made my eyes droop, so we went back to the hotel, where the moderate heat of the day was fading, and would fall to single digits by dawn!

We slept long. And well.