Thursday 3rd September 2026

I have been letting things slip. Too much wine, cheese and crackers for supper, then beer, and so on.

So, I put some timber back on round my waist.

So, a new, or a renewed determination to to do longer, but not so hard at the gym.

Come next week, only drinking on phys days, and cut out the wine. Wine is too easy and lovely to drink, and I have been drinking too much.

So, the alarm went off at ten past five. It was dark, and Jools slept on. So, I got up, tested and jabbed Scully, fed the other cats, then made drinks. So, although we were five minutes behind, we were in the gym at five past six.

I dialled back from level 15 to 12, and so steadily pedalled for fifty minutes. Fifty one and a half, so I did four hundred k/calories.

It was so easy, and I wasn't out of breath come seven.

I waited for Jools outside, then after cooling down, we drove home.

I sat outside to cool down some more, Jools made brews, and we sat outside with Scully laying down between us as the day began, the sun rose.

I go for a shave and shower, so felt more human once I was dried and dressed, and what to do with the day?

Well, there was cycling from just after lunch, so I managed to fritter away the morning until it was time to sit on the sofa with Poppy near by feet under the TV, sleeping away.

I watched about half the stage, then paused so we could have dinner.

Corn boiled, lamb (which I had coated in harissa paste) friend in a little oil, and some grains flavoured with tomatoes and herbs.

Then back in front of the TV to watch the closing 80km of the race, which was through yet more arid hills, now further south.

That done, there was the evening to fritter away, with no football to watch.

And somehow, the day was passed and it was time for bed.

Poppy slept on.

Wednesday 2nd September 2026

I may have mentioned that I have had a big falling out with our local U3A, for whom I ran a group, then two groups, then one, and now, none.

It was tough to leave the small group of crawlers, telling them via a WhatsApp message that the group no longer exists.

But I had already arranged a "tour" of some of the Romney churches, though the initial date had to be cancelled due to my B12 injections, and then there was our holiday, so the first Wednesday in September was selected. And in all honesty, accidentally at the same time as the U3A's AGM. Though the tour would be outside of the organisation, though a couple did think it was deliberate.

It wasn't.

So, I would have the car all day, so had to drop Jools off in Dover at half seven, then get back home to get my stuff ready, meaning there wasn't time for breakfast.

Bugger.

First I had to pick up Martina from Deal, and as I had seen kids waiting for their buses on the way back from town, I thought Walmer and Deal would be busy with traffic on the school run.

So I took the Sandwich road, then doubling back through Worth to her house. Only traffic was mad there too. At the roundabout, stationary all along the bypass to the next roundabout just over a mile away near the White Mill.

I got into Deal with no issues, parked outside her house, called her to let her know I was waiting, so she came out, loaded the car, so we could drive back to Dover.

We picked up Ros and Phil at St James's, so with a full car we could get going, along the A20 to Folkestone, turning off at Hythe services.

Light rain was falling, which was a shame, but we were in good spirits, as it was the first time we had met since the end of April.

We turned off to Hythe, past the RH&DR station, then out along the coast road, past the shooting range, which was in use, with guns going off as we went past.

Pew, pew, pew!

Once we reached Dymchurch, we turned off, onto the Marsh itself, along narrow twisty lanes to St Mary in the Marsh.

There waiting were the other two members, only problem was that the church was locked, but it wasn't quite ten.

So I showed them E.M. Nesbit's grave, which is marked by a simple wooden marker.

By then the warden arrived. Apologised for being late, so we could go inside and me put my guide head on, so point out areas of interest.

From then on, we drove in our two car convoy the rest of the day, first of all the two miles along most twisty lanes and onto the main road to Old Romney.

Old Romney is situated beside the main road into Sussex and to Rye, and being under the care of the CCT is open every day.

Inside the pale pink painted pews and gallery still look fine, although would look better in white.

The church features two hagioscopes, the doorway to the rood stairs still has the original wooden frame for the door, but most remarkable is the fact it has a large brick bread oven in the south chapel.

When in use would also heat the church too.

I pointed out the multiple buttresses and the leaning walls and tower, so said that Newchurch nearby had an even more dramatic leaning tower: did they want to see it? As I had built some time into the day.

They did, so we drove the couple of miles back the other way and arrived at Newchurch as the rain came down harder.

The tower was three-quarters bult when the lean became worrying, so work stopped until the tower settled, then the bell stage was added, and level.

This came down to the soft ground, something which another church got round in rather a unique way when it came to heir belltower.

But that for later.

But now, on to Ivychuch for the "Cathedral of the Marsh", and lunch.

Upon arrival I went into the pub next door to make sure they were doing food and could seat a group of six. They could.

So I joined the others in the church, enjoying the huge space inside, showing that in the middle ages, the area was made rich thanks to the wool from he hardy Romney Marsh sheep, and some of that money went into building large and grand churches.

The church also features a museum of local farming, and finds from farms nearby.

And then to the pub where two people offered to buy me lunch. One did, but then the other bought me a drink, so we were able to site down, to talk about what we had seen, and me hint at what we might see in the afternoon.

Lunch for me was steak and stilton pie, and despite not having breakfast, I was unable to finish it. We all ate well, so at nearly two in the afternoon, we drove the two miles to Brookland.

St Augustine has several remarkable features.

The stable door-like porch doors that greet visitors.

The magnificent lead font inside, with a ring of astrological signs, with the labours of the month below.

But it is the belltower that the church is rightly best known for.

In order to keep weight down, a triple-decked "candle-snuff" wooden belltowers was constructed, and survives, even if I have never visited the church when the tower doors were unlocked.

And no change this time.

Inside it is remarkable too, a large space with wooden family pews, full of light. And three bored local teenagers, who leave when we arrive.

That leaves just one final church of the afternoon.

A short drive away, even closer to the border with (East) Sussex, is Fairfield. The church is a simple brick and timber building, set among fields and ditches.

It featured in many BBC Dickens dramatisations, just for the uber-rural church.

But it isn't as it seems, as Hasted himself says that when he visited the parish at the end of the 18th century remarked at how recently built the church seemed, and had just one memorial stone inside.

And if that isn't enough, the entire building was rebuilt in the 1920s.

But location here is everything.

We parked on the lane, near a family in an estate car. The Mother told me a couple of cyclists at the church had the key, so we set off through the gate to the field and along the top of a drainage ditch.

Over a narrow bridge, on the other side I met the two guys, took over the key and said I would put it back. Just as well as they didn't know which house it was to be returned to.

I unlocked the door, and I let the group go inside and marvel at how perfectly simple it was.

And tha was that.

We waked back to the road, and I set off along the road to return the key, then the long drove through Hythe via the coast road, passing through New Romney.

Onto the motorway, back to Dover, dropping Ros and Phil off at their house, then took Martina back to Deal.

And that was that, all done.

I drove back home, calling Jools on the way out of Deal, so that she put the kettle on and had a fresh brew waiting after reversing the car down the drive.

We had both eaten well, so had some Spanish tapas for supper, and I opened a new beer, but to my dismay, it was a sour beer, made in the traditional Lambic tradition.

Was OK after a while.

Tuesday 1st September 2026

It is autumn.

Apparently.

And the year is getting older too. It was dark at ten past five when the alarm went off, I opened my eyes and wondered why the alarm had gone off in the middle of the night.

But it was morning.

Technically.

We get up and do the usual stuff, I sit down to drink coffee before going to the gym at ten to six, arriving there as the doors opened.

I was cycling away when after eight minutes the podcast I was listening to just stopped, and when I checked the pod itself had vanished from the podcast library.

I carried on cycling, and found an episode of Radcliffe and Maconie to listen to for the last half hour of the session. And when home contacted the creators about what happened, as the process for deleting a podcast from the library takes about four steps, and the phone was in my pocketses all the time, Precious.

Traffic was still light, I think the kids go back to school on Wednesday, so I arrived back home safe and sound, sat outside to cool down and dear Jools brought me a brew to sup as I watched the birds on the feeders.

She goes to her class, leaving me and the cats alone. Nothing planned for the day, just stuff. And cycling in the afternoon.

I had a shower, changed, then did some light gardening, picking up the clippings I missed last week, so that the grass isn't fed that much. It'll be soon time for another, harsher cut, then the scarifying, and finally the sowing of the seeds.

All in good time.

With Jools expected home soon after midday, I chop the salad and place roughly on plates, so that once she returns, I can air fry the chicken, and within ten minutes or so, dinner is prepared.

And eaten, washed up, all in time for the start of the day's coverage of the cycling.

More riding through dry rolling hills, up and down, through villages, concluding with a sprint to the finish.

Huge smiles and tears at the end.

For the evening there is football, and the madness that was the last day of the transfer window. I see a bubble soon to burst, but we've been saying that for years. Average players now needing £40 to £60 million to buy them, and at the top, more than £100 million.

Madness.

Norwich brought a sense of reality by showing they couldn't do it on a Tuesday night in Stoke, losing to a deflected goal, and unable to turn possession into goal.

Same old, same old.

Monday 31st August 2026

The last day of summer.

Perhaps.

According to the Met Office, 1st September is the first day of Autumn. They may be right.

As it is, its now dark by half eight, earlier if cloudy, and the sun rises after six.

Alongside Whitfield Hill, the Horse chestnuts have given up for another year, and their leaves are already a golden brown. The harvest is in, fields have been harrowed and some manure spread.

Autumn is coming, if its not already here.

It was also Bank Holiday Monday, the last before Christmas Day, and we had nothing planned.

There was no cycling, as it was a rest day, and only one Premier League game, and that was at eight in the evening, so we had a whole day to fill.

Truth is I had some tasks to do, something I will share with you at the end of the week, but digging out documents and information I thought I'd never need again.

Life changes, as it does.

So, after a lay in until nearly seven. Get up, get dressed and have coffee. Outside it was a chilly morning, but with the bird feeders back out, the hedge and bushes were alive with Great tits, Blue tits, Dunnocks and House sparrows, while on the wires, swallows are massing to fly south for another year.

Jools watches films, and I take my phone upstairs to listen to podcasts, sitting in the back room. Only disturbed when Mulder comes up for attention, or maybe steal my seat.

The day is quiet, apart form the couple two doors down, whose grandkids come here to scream with delight, and their mother berates them. Schools should go back this week, and apart from the powered gardening equipment, it will be quiet.

I also sit on the patio, re-reading Jon's Orchid Summer book. His prose are a delight, as is the subject matter, and I myself played two small parts in the events it details.

So it goes.

Come the evening, there is football chat on the radio: how made the transfers have been this summer, and how much madder it would be on the last day of the window on Tuesday. Then Arsenal played at Villa, winning 1-0 in a tight game.

Time for bed, worn out after doing nothing, and taking all day to do it.

Sunday 30th August 2026

It rained most of Saturday night, and the possibility of doing anything outside come Sunday seemed remote.

And yet by six in the morning, the skies had cleared, the garden was drying, and the sun was preparing to rise.

All systems go!

First up was the cats and coffee, of course. Then, I did not really fancy going to the gym, but Jools suggested we should or do something else, so we went to the gym anyway.

The middle day of a three day Bank Holiday meant it was even quieter at the sports centre, and only a couple of others in the gym.

As I had other stuff planned, I did 300 k/calories and finished, Jools did a few minutes more, and we were done.

Back home where I went straight for a shower, then changed, before the internet seduced me and stole all my time.

Fran was coming from Herne Bay, and Iain and friend were also coming on another final orchid hunt, but up the downs at Temple Ewell.

Last week I found two spikes, the expectation was that there would be more spikes a week later after more rain, but what if those were the only two, and had gone to seed?

Well, a walk is never wasted!

Iain arrives with his friend, Emily, a birding "widow", but she does love an orchid or two.

We climb into the Audi to drive to Priory to pick up Fran, then we happy four drive along London Road, past the old flat on Crabble Hill to Temple Ewell, parking behind the old pub as usual.

Emily hadn't been here before, but I had taken both Iain and Fran here previously. Fran several times.

We climbed the steps cut into the down, leading into the wood, then out to the lower meadow.

A quick diversion to the second meadow to look for, and find, Adonis blues basking in the still morning sunshine, then back to the path up the down, and through the woods.

Into open ground, and the path curves upwards, apparently into the sky. It looks steep, but my healthy lifestyle means it was an easier climb than ever as we went higher.

I spotted the first two ALTs beside the path, so the main task was achieved before we got to the main slope.

Photographs were taken before we walked to the gate, through that and along the fenceline, before dropping down through the long grass.

Butterflies scattered from our footsteps, but no orchids seen. Until Iain sees one, then a second, before more an more were spotted.

I guess in excess of thirty, maybe more seen, one spike being a good six inches tall, with a perfect tight spiral of green-tinged white flowers.

We walked back up the down, then into the next paddock to look for Autumn gentians, as I had seen none the previous week.

It seemed a fool's errand, until i spotted a tiny spike, topped with a lilac coloured flower.

Bingo.

I thought we'd find more, so didn't take a shot, so was disappointed when where the plants were usually at their densest, there were none.

So began the hunt for that first plant, so then it was when I saw about half a dozen more, getting shots.

But time was getting on, so we walked back to the car, down the down, then dropping Fran back off at the station, then home, as I had to be at Shepherdswell at half twelve to meet Andy off the train.

Time for a drink of iced squash, and off again in the car, along the A2, through heavy traffic from the port, turning off as the dual carriageway began, into the village by way of the narrow lane, playing chicken with cars coming the other way.

Jools would meet us at Eythorne, the other end of the short preserved railway, and I waited for their arrival on the train from Faversham.

Once Andy Nydia got off the train, we hurried to the ticket office to catch to twenty to train.

The class 142 was over half full for the ten minute trip, and engines roared, and the train rocked and rolled over the jointed track, over one level crossing and through Golgotha Tunnel to the terminus.

Jools was sitting at a table, so we rushed to beat the others from the train to the beer tent for fist drinks of this year's beer festival.

The beer was fine, if a little warm, but once I switched to mild it was better.

There was a food stall that did average "gourmet" burgers, but at a tenner with a portion of fries, was OK.

Once the half two train arrived, full of thirsty passengers, it got really busy, so we all decided to leave, with a return trip in three minutes for our friends, and Jools driving us back home through Eythorne village to the Sandwich road, then a 360 turn at the roundabout back to Dover and home.

There were four game on TV, but also the cycling on as well. What would I choose?

Well, there's football every weekend, so I watched the cycling, ignoring the football for a couple of hours, as the tour raced through arid hills around Valencia, before one last 22km mountain climb at the end.

It was half seven once it ended, and they can all enjoy their rest day on Monday.

I wrote, edited shots and rush to do the things I take half a day to do usually.

Saturday 29th August 2026

Its the bank holiday weekend.

The last one before Christmas, though in fairness, every weekend is a bank holiday now.

Being the weekend, it meant going to the gym first thing, so up just before six, sort the cats out and drink coffee.

The gym is at least quiet at weekends, so we park easily, walk to the entrance and up the stairs to our twin instruments of torture.

I do 35 minutes again, as I was cooking and I really wasn't into it. Being a holiday weekend, there was no new pods to listen to, so I grumbled as I peddled.

Then to Tesco where renovations are nearly done, with just the new freezers to be plugged in, but more aisles have moved and were hiding their wares.

We get all the stuff off the list, and back home for half eight, it was getting darker, not lighter, and the plan to meet up with friends at the East Kent Light Railway beer festival was looking increasingly like a bad idea.

As heavier rain was expected, I called Andy and we agreed to delay it 24 hours, meaning I suddenly had hours free.

And with the rain beginning to fall, I made a huge pot of Boston beans, taking nearly and hour to prepare the ingredients, and then combining in a big pot and cooking in the oven for four hours.

And then it was time for football: Middlesborough v unbeaten WBA, which ended 3-1 home win, then listen to the main games on the radio whilst watching the cycling with the commentary turned down.

Norwich were 2-0 up within two minutes of the start against Burnley, and romped to the first league win of the season, 4-1.

In the cycling, it was all gearing up for a sprint finish, but had been marred by three small crashes. Then forty kilometres out, leader and legend, Tadej Pogačar, swerved, crashed into a rider next to him, then went over the handlebars, breaking his collarbone and suffering concusion.

His race was run.

Wow.

Jen came round for supper. I defrosted and warmed up some ragu, boiled pasta and once dished placed crispy guanciale on top.

It was magnificent.

We talked, laughed, and drank wine.

Friday 28th August 2026

Friday.

After two early mornings in three days getting up at ten past five, to be able to lay in is a real luxury.

Of course it is my choice to go to the gym at six, but it works for me, and gets me down there, pumping lard.

I wake up as Jools was leaving for her yoga class, so I get up, make a coffee, and after drinking it put the bins out.

I put the new bird feeders out I bought. Did you know its possible to spend upwards of £60 on a single bird feeder?

Bugger that, I spent nineteen quid and bought three, and a block of seed encrusted fat. So put those out, and within half an hour a Great tit was chirping about how great it was.

Job done.

Jools comes back. We have breakfast, and then she's off again, off to knit and natter, collecting her group of old ladies on the way to the library.

I stay at home and re-read Jon's book on orchids, sitting outside on the patio as the clouds clear and the sun comes out.

For the afternoon there is more cycling from Spain, four hours of it. I take up position on the sofa with Scully and the afternoon slips by.

There was no quiz, due to summer holidays, so we have dinner of fish cakes and Boston beans, the last tub of them, so ingredients were added to tomorrow's shopping list.

After watching the football, the full moon shone low over the southern horizon, so I take a shot of it and the shelter lights.