Thursday 13th August 2026

Thursday.

And we have been home nearly a week. There is a little of the post-holiday blues setting in, so mundane things like going to the gym are ever more of a drag.

But we were up at ten past five. The cats fed, Scully tested and jabbed, then coffee made, so that we could be out by five to six.

This is the start of a two day mini-heatwave, with temperatures expected to top thirty degrees both days, and as usual, the air conditioning in the gym doesn't reach to where our two bikes are.

But it is what it is, and we both get pedalling. The plan was to get close to forty minutes again, although I thought getting there on the second session back was ambitious.

In the end I did thirty five. as hot and bothered, and 60% of the pod listened to.

There is still enough food in the house, so no need to go shopping, except for some milk, which we'd pick up later.

Home again before seven, the top patio still in shade, and cool enough to sit outside for a while.

We both have showers through the morning, but as we had forgotten to put the afternoon tea date on the calendar, I made sausage sarnies for lunch. It was only after we had eaten both sarnies did Jools remember.

Afternoon tea is rather old fashioned, and was never a thing again until a decade or so ago, or not that I was aware. It has finger sandwiches, small portions of cake, a clotted cream and jam scone, as well as a pot of tea.

All served on a fancy set of mini-shelves. Sean and Ange had invited us, as Ange had won the meal for being super fit and winning at being able to plank the longest.

It was also her birthday, though she didn't tell us until we were back home.

As it was over thirty in the shade, the beach that was left at high tide, and parking in the surrounds was packed. And as we walked to the hotel, the sweet smell of sun lotion wafted by, bringing memories of childhood days spent on the beach.

We walked on, and found our friends sitting in the foyer, so we walk to the deserted chop room where tea was to be served.

We caught up, chatted and talk, as it always does between two ex-servicemen, to military matters and so we hijack the conversation.

But two hours pass.

Our parking is running out, so we say goodbye and we part on the prom, we walking to our respective cars, us to drive back onto Townwall Street then back home.

It were still hot.

And Friday would be hotter still.

Yay.

So, an ice cold beer was called for.

And then another.

Cats were fed, Scully jabbed and tested.

Life goes on.

No football again, but the Football League season starts Friday night, so there'll be football most nights.

A hot an humid night ahead, and sleep would be difficult. Again.

He's got (most of) the world in his pocket

We were away when the latest FIFA scandal hit, out the fallout from it hit. Many have written about it, so sorry to be the latest and probably last.

But here goes.

Giovanni Vincenzo "Gianni" Infantino was elected FIFA President in 2015 on an anti-corruption ticket.

The decisions to give the 2018 tournament to Russia and the 2022 to Qatar were not his. But he had the power to open investigations into how inproper those two votes were back in 2010.

He did not open an investigation into either.

In fact, he moved to Qatar in time for the 2022 tournament, and brushed aside concerns about slave labour and deaths during contruction of the stadiums, stating he knew what it was like to be marginalised, as he grew up with ginger hair.

FIFA is supposed to be apolitical, so there was more than surprise when he announced that Donald Judas Trump was the winner of the first, and probably only, FIFA Peace Prize in 2025. Norway has raised a case with FIFA's ethics committee in regards to this, as it clear breaks a FIFA statute.

Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts, absolutely. So it is said.

In the run up to this year's World Cup in the US, Cristiano Ronaldo had his three match ban for a red card, given as he elboed an Irish player in the face, suspended.

The red card given to US forward, Folarin Balogun, was also suspended after Trump called on the FIFA President to ask it to be suspeded. The rules for the tournament stated, clearly, that a straight red card, or a red card for two yellows, would lead to a suspension. This was communicated to every team befvore they played each game, until after that decision.

Somali referee Omar Artan was banned from entering the US as he had a similar name to a person who had alleged links to a terrorist organisation. FIFA did not challenge this as would be expected. And the Iranian team had most of their officials and fans banned from entering the US, and the team itself could only enter the US on the day of the game and leave again as soon as their games were finished.

Again, FIFA did not challenge this, although there is clear reference to allowing free movement of fans, officials and players of participating countries in the legally binding contracts signed at the ceremony awarding the tornament.

In 2026, in an effort to raise $4.2 billion in development grants, Infantino proposed plans to sell a minority stake of FIFA Forward Enterprise (FFE), without the apparent knoowledge or approval of the FIFA executive committee or any of the 211 National FAs. Pressure was put on national FAs by the President to agree to this so to be eligiable for $40million in funding from the sale in September, failure to approve would mean no money.

This was dropped after a worldwide backlash, though due to the unaudited money funnelled to the National FAs in the poorer parts of the world, he seems likely to remain in post with their support. But support is crumbling. A little.

Nothing has been said by FIFA's commercial partners, whose baulking a the corruption under Blatter caused him to resign mere weeks after winning a further term in office.

UEFA is to boycott FIFA competitons until major changes are made, and that threat remains in place.

As an auditor, the fact that the President clearing bypassed the rules for decision making and change management without the knowledge of most of the organisation should have made his position untenable, and should have been removed from office, if such a process was available to it.

What could follow is a battle between UEFA and FIFA for the control and ethics of the game, and how much of the rest of world football will stand beside the European body. A split in the game seems a distinct possibility.

Wednesday 12th August 2026

In any other year, with maybe an average year's weather, we would have been in northern Spain enjoying the total eclipse.

But you know the story already.

A year with already five heatwaves, and our first day out of the Alps eight days ago, driving into temperatures approaching forty degrees, and the thought of seven more such days of maybe even higher temperatures as we drove south, meant, instead, we headed north.

So, the morning of the 12th dawned, and I slept on to half six, and opened the curtains to reveal clear blue skies.

We had bought filters for our cameras, and the ISO certified glasses for the occasion. IN fact my filter was from the "Great American Eclipse" of 2017, but was still good.

During the day we checked our cameras, lenses, filters, did test shots, and so were ready for showtime before just before six.

Before then Jools went to her class, and then knot and natter, before going into town to look for more crocks for me.

At half nine I was video-called by three former colleagues for a catch up chat. I have been feeling a little abandoned by them, but this more than made up for it, even if the company hasn't changed.

So it goes.

Lunch was hash, which I prepared through the morning, then cooked up once she came back home at half twelve, so that we sat down to eat with ice cold beer/cider at about half one.

We are working our way through the three hours of the Proggy Proms, which is pretty good and still on the i player for several weeks, worth seeking out.

I tried a new beer, 7.9% tripel aged in rum barrels. I went for a snooze once we had washed up, so that come half five I was fighting fit and ready to go.

We decided to go to the top of Station Road, near the transponder beacon, and once up there at ten past six, there was just one other car, though they had no glasses, just welder's masks to share between the six of them, so we gave them our spare eclipse glasses so the kids could get a good view.

Soon after, first contact happened, as the disc had a slight bite taken out of the right side, then the moon slid further over, taking an hour to get to about 92% hidden.

By then the area beside the road was full of cars, families and three boy racers who thought we needed a techno version of Kylie's hits.

We didn't.

But the cosmic dance played out to the west, getting lower as more and more of the sun was blocked out.

The bright sunlight had that odd texture to it, not its usual Technicolor, something flatter. Not sure if the birds stopped singing, I do know the techno didn't stop.

Once maximum had passed, we packed away and drove home, on the way seeing people set up with deckchairs, tables and various binos, cameras and picnics to enjoy the show.

We got home, poured the last of the drinks left from lunchtime, had the rest of the cheese, before settling down to watch PSG v Villa in the Supercup.

Football is indeed back, if ever it went away.

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.