Sunday 1st March 2026

I woke at half five when the rooster next door informed the world that his cocked had been a doodled. So I woke, and lay in bed as dawn crept round the edge of unfamiliar curtains.

Birds still sang, but these were different birds, singing different songs. More like summer than spring, and yet it were chilly. So I used my phone to check online, find out the news, and to read about and watch Norwich’s victory yesterday.

Jools woke at half seven, so after exchanged greetings, we both went for showers, got dressed before trying to find the restaurant for breakfast.

It wasn’t where we picked up the key last night, but in a large greenhouse-like building nearby, so we wandered over. Poured a coffee, had some bran, and did some people watching.

On the next table there were four people and a guide, on a birdwatching tour I guess, judging by their cameras and lenses. They discussed the news before leaving to get into a mini bus.

We ate on.

From the bedroom window, I had noticed some rough ground, so I suggested after breakfast going for a short walk to explore and look for plants.

And so we did. Crossing near the small shrine, onto the rough ground admiring the banks of Cyclamen, as well as various peas, Groundsels, and some Henbit deadnettle.

We walked along the road, over a bridge, and I saw a roungh farm track leading up the hill.

We’ll go that way, I told Jools.

Because, on Rhodes, a lot of orchid species were found in olive groves, or former olive groves, so thought this looked a good idea.

We saw plenty of interest, and then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot an ophrys. Now, I’m sure you’re hoping for a better ID than that, but for now, that’s as good as I can do.

We both take shots.

Further up we find another ophrys, then another. I find a Tongue orchid, and then Jools spots something yellow. Orchis punctulata is one of Europe’s rarest orchids, and we find one just like that! It is one of the key species of the tour, the tour which starts tomorrow. And we find one.

Two.

Three.

And another ophrys.

And an Anacamptis, probably colina. Most had gone over, but one was still showing, although faded.

One species I did recognise was Ophrys mamosa, AKA the “Breasted” orchid. And then another species similar, but different.

We reach the top of the hill, but the track kept on going, so we looked in more areas of grass, and find more and more orchids. They were everywhere.

Bees buzzed, butterflies fluttered by, birds sang, and away behind us on both sides, the land fell away to the rugged coast with headlands in the distance, and sea a wonderful shade of deep blue.

Walking back down I see a Yellow Star of Bethlehem, just growing between the wheel tracks of a tractor long since passed. We took a fork down a steeper path and find more orchids, including more punctulata, one of a fairly large size.

We go further down, more ophrys seen, until we come to an abandoned store of bathroom fittings, benches and tiles. We walk through that, then past a helipad (!) and onto the road, turning towards the hotel.

On the other side, a way lead down, should we go down?

Yes.

We go down and find half a dozen Giant orchids, no really giant, but robust.

It was getting warm, so we walk back to the road, hugging the edge, we walk back to the junction and the hotel, avoided by cars flying by.

We thought we needed supplies, so drove to the village to the market. Jools went in and bought beer, cider, crisps, filled rolls, peanuts, Pringles, and Ritz crackers. Its three minutes to dive back, so once inside we crack open a cold can of beer/cider, then sit on the rooftop patio to drink and soak up more rays.

The car said it was 22 degrees, it didn’t feel that warm with the breeze, but nice enough.

Nice enough for Jools to try the hot tub, which wasn’t so hot after all.

We fritter away the afternoon as the sky clouded over, and the sinking sun caused the chairs outside to be covered in shadow. We went inside to try to keep warm.

I kept up with the football on the BBC website, so with the two hour time difference, when those games finished at four in the UK, it was six here. I had looked online, and the best place nearby to eat at a beach bar place.

Another three minute to drive into the village, parking beside the beach where the waves laped against the narrow sandy beach.

We go in and order grilled halumi with fig jam, also some garlic bread. Followed by king prawns in a white wine and garlic sauce. This also came with a platter of frites, which we also made disappear.

While we were eating, darkness fell, revealing the nearly full moon hanging high above us. We drove back to the hotel, for more of the same.

Saturday 28th February 2026

This will be important later. Back when we planned the trip, I told Jen that she needed to renew her passport due to rules meaning that, in general, passports were only valid from ten years from issue, and hers had ten years nine months, it might be a problem, I said.

I checked and it’s not a problem she said.

OK, I said.

So anyway. Saturday morning, we were up at six,, giving us just over two hours to get ready, load the car and drink coffee. This we did, easier without four demanding cats, obviously.

The car was loaded, stuff checked and rechecked. We left the house, locked the door. And we were on our way.

To Whitfield to pick up Jen and her case.

We squeezed that in, and Jen. So off we went on a jolly boy’s outing up the M20 to Gatwick.

No real issues, just a pleasant Saturday morning, cruising up past Ashford and Maidstone, then along the M26 westwards. And after joining the M25, along two junctions then south towards Brighton to Gatwick.

It all went so smoothly. We found the parking garage, the car was logged in, and from there it was just a five minute walk to departures, up to travelators to the departures hall, where before joining the queue to check our bags in, our passports and boarding passes were checked.

I went first and was OK.

Jools went next and was also OK.

Jen, however, caused frowns.

The ten years vadility on her passport expired in January, and there was no way was she getting on the flight with that passort.

Bugger.

And I had told her.

Months ago.

And she had time to get it updated, we would have helped to do the online application, but she said it was OK.

I had to go as I was meeting the tour, so checked my bag in. Jen was told she could go home, apply in person to the passport office on Monday or Tuesday and travel the next day. But she said no.

I took her to the railway station, told her to buy a ticket to Dover, and to booard a northbound train to St Pancras.

And she was gone trying not to show emotion.

So Jools checked her bag, and we went up to security. Just the two of us.

Once through, we found a place for breakfast, ordered coffees and a sandwich, which along with an ice cream and second coffee and spritzer, cost £69!

Eeek, indeed.

We had hand hour to kill, so went to the restrooms, once out the gate was called, so we walked the fifteen minutes to that, and waited some more.

There was the rush to board, but we had small bags so would have them at our feet, as Easyjet charges extra for everything. We were lucky to get air free.

We waited to get on, shuffling along to row 28, and squeezing into our seats. Easyjet is cheap, functional, but you have to pay for anything other than a seat. Cabin bag, check in bag, drink, food; all extra.

We bought sandwiches from Boots, and drink. So settled in and waited for take off.

Which was on time. Into the air we leapt, and south-eastwards we flew.

No in-flight entrainment. No interactive map. Drink and food extra.

We flew over the Alps.

Over Greece. The sun sank low, there was a golden dusk.

It got dark.

We flew over diamond lit islands in a sea of inky black.

I reviewed videos and photos from India. That took over an hour, but time dragged. After four hours, the plane began to drop, and preparations for landing were made.

Paphos is a small airport. We bounced down, the engines roared to slow us down, we lurched onto the taxiway, and to the pan.

We were one of the first off, so into the terminal to have our biometrics taken, passport checked, then to baggage reclain, where are we both visited the restroom, our bags arrived, so we could go through customs, and a short wait at the car hire place, got the keys for a Fiat thing.

Out into the night, where the guy in a hut gave us our keys. We loaded up, and Jools programmed her phone to the hotel: an hour away.

So off we went.

Put of the airport, down the motorway, the along main roads over and through hills, small sleepy towns and villages, following the instructions from the phone.

We came to the town where the hotel was, along the beach, but the sea was hidden in the blackest of nights, and out the other side, up a hill, and there it was.

We found a place to park, got out the cases and tried to find reception to check in. It was mostly in darkness, but after ten minutes of dead ends, we found the night porter, and he directed us after giving us the keys, to our apartment, on the first floor on one of six identical blocks.

It had two double bedrooms; a kitchenette-cum-living room; a bathroom, a terrace which had a spa bath. And above, the majesty of creation and a nearly full moon. We took off our shoes and stood on the cold marble, looking up.

What a day.

The restaurant was closed.

The bar was closed.

We were too pooped to find a late night market, so with a bottle of water ech to drink, we slumped into the sofa.

Norwich had won. Again. And so are pretty much safe. Beating Leicester 2-0 away. Despite 16 first team injuries.

Friday 27th February 2026

And so the day of much activity arrived.

It is Friday, so Jools was up and about, feeding the cats and getting ready for yoga, while I slept.

Until Mulder and Poppy were fighting under and on the bed, thus waking me up.

So, may as well get up.

The Springlike weather is gone, though still mild, but drizzle was already falling, and would get steadier through the morning.

Bins were put out, feeders topped up. And Jools was gone to do some downard facing cats. Or something.

The cats had no idea what was to come, so went to sleep in their various favourite places. I had a tea and breakfast, while sunrise happened outside, though the red sun was soon lost in thick clouds. Behind thick clouds.

Jools came home at twenty past eight, at the same time as Craig, Jon and the plumber.

They laid dust sheets, looked at what was to be done, and started ripping stuff out.

Banging, drilling, sanding continued. The cats, alarmed, ran outside, where the dreich greeted them. Came back in, went out, back in.

After a couple of hours, they got used to it, and so the youngest sheltered under the bed, Scully slept on the sofa, and Mulder wandered around demanding attention.

The flooring was glued down, and took some removing, but soon after lunchtime, the shower, sink, toilet, radiator, and all the tiles were out and in the back of the van, and then came the job of trying to make sense of the pipework.

That took a couple of hours, but by three all the prep work was done, and so with kids to collect from school, they left and silence returned to the house.

But for the cats, the worse was yet to come, as at half four the round up would begin, as they were going to the cattery. If we could catch all four of them, and put them in their boxes.

We had 90 calm minutes, and then the round up began.

Block off the cat flat. Close the doors to the kitchen, office, small bedroom. And at least with the bathroom now a bare room, there was no hiding place for Cleo and Poppy. Mulder and Scully were fed, then caged and the cages put in the car.

Cleo first, cornered in the bathroom, she was grabbed and caged. And finally, the same for Poppy. All in ten minutes.

We load the car, so Jools could take them to Whitfield, and I stay home to cook dinner of steak pie, steamed veggies, roast potatoes and gravy.

All done after I had crashed and burned out of the quiz, so we could sit down and eat, drink and be merry. As we are on holiday.

Thursday 26th February 2026

Thursday.

The week is flying past, and we have loads to do.

But first there is always the gym.

Truth be told, our hearts weren't in it, and we were late up, late feeding the cats and late finishing our coffees. But out of the house just before six, at the sports centre at ten past, then up to the gym finding both bikes, free, we got on and started to peddle. Me listening to podcasts, and Jools watching more of The Handmaiden's Tale.

Being a warm morning, we were soon glowing well, and it would have been easy to bail. We looked at each other a couple of times to see if either of us would, but we kept on going.

And once we were done, wiped the machines down, and we were walking back to the car, passing people just arriving, we are always smug to think we had ours in the bag.

We called into B&Q for some earplugs in case it was noisy at the hotel, then back home for a brew, fill the feeders and have a brew.

The day was cloudy, and the breeze had picked up, so that it felt colder than it was, certainly colder than the glorious spring day we had on Wednesday, when I saw my first two butterflies of the season: a Brimstone and a Peacock.

We dismantled the cube from the bathroom, then took the pieces to the tip. The bits only just fitted the car, and the shelves were just about resting on the rear screen, meaning acceleration had to be slow, as well as braking so it didn't fly through the windscreen.

That done it was back home, and the rest of the day was ours.

We had toasted hot cross buns for lunch, so I could cook breaded cod, dahl and sprouts cooked in guanciale fat for supper later.

Scully and I watched TV, She was very happy with that, softly snoring all afternoon, but happy when I got up that meant it might be dinner time.

No football on TV for the evening, so early to bed, all ready for the big day in the morning.

Work starts on the new bathroom, with Craig coming round to rip the old one out, so I went round to take shots of how it is. And when we come back, there'll be a new one in its place.

on A.I.

Over the last week or so, I have listened to a three part BBC series on AI, as well as us both attending a lecture last Friday on the subject.

Here are some thoughts:

The top seven companies in A.I: Google, Microsft and so on, have invested $20 trillion in the technoogy.On top of that, tere are 500 A.I. tech start ups valued at or than $1 billion each.

That is a lot of money.

The money either comes from internally in the "big seven", or in the 500, from venture capatalists.

Its still a lot of money.

The question, as far as I can see, is how is anyone going to make A.I. as it is at the moment, turn a proofit on the investment?

The big Large Langauage Models (LLMs), like Chat GBT does requests through it's website, free of charge, as far as I can see.

LLMs operate, generally, in two phases: learning and operational. And in the learning phase, scrape data to "learn". This comes from mostly the internet, where it scrapes copyrighted and uncopyrighted information. LLMs have said that if they had to pay the legally required costs for use of copyrighted material, their business model doesn't work, so have not paid, they just stole.

If obeying the law makes your business model fail, then you don't have a business model.

There are cirrently a number of class actions regarding copyright theft going through courts around the world, and it seems inevitable that the copyright holders will win, and that some sort of payment will have to be forthcoming.

Copyright costs are on top of the figures already mentioned above ($20 trillion and $500 billion). Huge sums that will have to be factored in in being able to turn a profit.

Not only that, using one of the A.I. tools for tasks, used about 400% more energy than non-AI, and data centres require power, land, and water to cool the banks of processors, in anticipation for the work it is expected AI to do. And that by the time the capacity currently being constructed is needed, it will probably be out of date.

A.I. has all the features of an economic bubble, promising huge returns on investments, and yet no clear explaination on how such returns will occur, or in what way it will make life better.

For the moment, A.I. seems to be stealing the work of creatives, and passing that theft to already rich companies, so they don't have to pay writes, painters, photographers and so on.

The question is either if or when the bubble will burst, and how big the impact will have on the "normal" economy. The real concern is when the start ups try to seel stock, then the contagion will be out and running. As it is, according to the Bank of England, approx 45% of the US Stock Market is on such tech stocks, and most of the growth of the Dow is done to the impossible values and returns on tech start ups.

I'm sure it'll all be fine, and there's nothing to worry about.

But if you use AI for anything, think of those whose work the tool has robbed, and how much poorer the world would be without them.

Wednesday 25th February 2026

Wednesday morning, and so up and about for a packed day.

After getting dressed and having coffee, I have to drop Jools off in town for her fitness class. Though I drop her off at the layby near the castle, where away to the left across the Channel, the coast of La Belle France is as clear as a bell.

I go down to the coach park to turn round, pausing to take shots of the castle, glistening in the rays of the just risen sun, before driving back up to the Duke of Yorks roundabout, along to Whitfield, before turning down the hill to River.

Kent is mostly chalk downland, and this is carved and shaped by the movement of water. Water caused by rain and snow melt, flows along valleys in winterbournes.

Dover's river, the River Dour, rises mainly in Temple Ewell, although that water flows from Chislehurst at least, to rise the flow along one of the town's valleys into the town.

Another branch rises along the Alkham Valley, near the hamlet of Drellingore, from which the winterbourne takes its name. This bourne is said by local lore, to only flow once every seven years, but in recent times has flowed more frequently than that.

We did pass that way on Saturday, I noted it's passage over farmland at the valley's lowest point, so would return to snap it in due course.

I park in the gateway of a field, the usual spot, and in the deep shadow of the down, take four or five shots before driving off to the next stop.

Next stop is Barham.

I go back to Temple Ewell, take a sharp left towards and through Lydden, and re-join the A2 heading towards Canterbury.

I turn off, towards Barham, take the narrow lane past the church, then onto the main valley road, past the village shop, parking on the main road near the bus stop, already busy with pupils waiting for their transport to the city and their high school.

The Nailbourne is another winterbourne, a bourne at at Littlebourne a handful of miles to the north east, becomes the Little Stour, which then in time joins the Great Stour at Plucks Gutter.

Mills were placed along the Nailbourne, towns grew up along the bourne, and at Barham, the bed of the Nailbourne is literally a street.

Kent County Council made regular updates last week as the bed of the Nailbourne filled, and the river flowed again, allowing people along its course to make arrangements.

It is quite the sight to see a lively and gurgling stream, nearly a river, flowing along a street, hemmed in by red and white plastic barriers. But this is normal. At least normal for Barham.

Further along, there is a gap between the barriers and walls of houses to allow a path to remain mostly dry, and so along this the residents can still come and go.

I take a few shots, then walk back along The Causeway, beside the bourne, back to the car, so to my final destination along the valley, Bishopsbourne.

It turned out that although the flow was impressive, it wasn't enough to close the fords into the village, the second ford had water in a culvert below the road, rather than over the road.

I didn't stop to take a shot, so instead turned back to the coast, and thoughts how to kill half an hour of time.

Down through Denton to Hawkinge, then avoiding the jams into Folkestone, I turned onto the A20 towards Dover, and when I reached Aycliffe, I turned up the cliffs to St Martins.

The rising sun caused stark contrast over the western docks, and the new customs facilities. I stayed half an hour, listening to a podcast, taking shots of the work underway.

I had things to collect from M&S, so drove down Military Road into the town, parking off Castle Street, and going to St James to collect a parcel for Jools, then going to a shoe shop to pick up a cheap pair of summer shoes to go away with.

Finally, walk to Chapin's, to wait for Jools so we could have a breakfast, without cooking at home.

I get a table for two, order a pot of tea, and settle down to wait for Jools. People come and go, ordering scones, or a breakfast.

Jools arrives. We order our breakfast and a cuppa. We catch up on news, while on the next table, an American lady tied to explain what eggs "over easy" meant.

Breakfast came, and we were hungry, so we tuck in, and make the lovely fried food vanish.

Our next port of call was the wood behind Waldershare church.

Wild garlic, aka Ramsons, are a wonderful ingredient for sausages, and so the butcher at Preston said he would love some sweet young Ramsons leaves.

Which is why we were in the wood behind Waldershare church, walking down the long woodland track, down the slope, then snipping the young shoots.

We soon fill a plastic bag, and I think that was enough as it was early in the season, so we take our swag and beat a retreat to the car, then drive along the Sandwich road to the coast, then over the marshes to Preston.

Mark was happy with our gift, but with us going away in three days, we take no gifts, and head back to Sandwich, then along to Whitfield to home.

Phew.

Back home we had a brew, so pistachio filled chocolates, and the question as to what to do with the rest of the afternoon.

Although sitting around eating chocolates is great, it seemed a shame to miss the warm sunshine outside, so I said I'd go for a walk.

My target was a small stretch of hedgerow at the top of the down, where Lesser Celandines show their glorious yellow faces. Only trouble was that to get there I would have to walk the muddy tracks, double so the places where water gathered and made the mud more than ankle deep.

I went up Station Road, beyond the four roads of the estate, past the war memorial and to the top track, dodging the cars and vans hammering along the road over the top of the down to the start of the track. And the start of the mud.

Truth was it looked worse than it was, with me having to walk along the very edge in only about three places, and the trainers I thought would be caked with mud, weren't.

Much.

I get to the stretch of hedge, and there were about a dozen spikes open, so i snap the best two, then set about walking to the track leading back down to Collingwood.

Thing about chalk downs is that rain and moisture seems through the nine inch soil to the chalk below, and seeps away. Even with heavy rain just a few days ago, the mud was firm enough, mostly to walk on.

There was one spot I knew would be bad, a spot where the two tracks crossed, and the two fields above the crossing both drained down the track. Making a large mud bath.

Even this had a fairly dry path through it, so it was just past the horses in their paddocks, to the bottom of the small dip, then up the other side to Collingwood.

I walk along it to check on the colony of Coltsfoot, and was rewarded with two spikes showing. So I snap one, then walk to Station Road again, before turning along to Chez Jelltex where a fresh brew was called for.

It was four by then, and the warmth of the day was fading, so the heating was put on and the back door closed.

All ready for an evening of football.

Norwich were on TV, playing already relegated Sheffield Wednesday. On Wednesday. A huge potential banana skin for City, doubly so with the injury crisis. But City played well, scored twice in the first half, then cruised to another win, albeit with another potential season-ending injury to a forward.

Still, nearly safe now.

Tuesday 24th February 2026

Time is rapidly running out for us this week, as we are jetting off at the end of the week.

Although, I'm not panicking yet. I have clothes, camera, shoes and the rest, its just a case of throwing it all in a suitcase sometime Friday evening or Saturday morning, possibly the same time Jools takes the cats to their prison.

Being a Tuesday, it is phys day. So up before the larks, and after coffee off to Whitfield to do a session.

It seems the new year surge has died out, so the car park and gym itself were not so busy.

I find a place to park, walk to the entrance, not as cold as other mornings this year, and upstairs to the bike.

I load a podcast and am off and pedalling.

And forty minutes later, I was done.

A quick dash to Tesco for some cash and some milk, then back home so Jools could jump in to go to her class.

She had a brew ready, which I happily accept. We chat, but then she has to go.

I make 90 minutes fritter away, by doing some freelance procrastinating, then Jools is back, and she had a couple of hours before she is to take Aunt Jan to Barham for a funeral.

It was some distant family friend, and my presence wasn't needed.

So, I had a shave, shower, so am all nice and stinky when she came home.

The bright sunny start soon gave way to mist and cloud, meaning it felt colder than it actually was.

Instead I prepare potatoes and veg for chorizo hash, all ready to go when Jan dropped Jools off.

That was two in the afternoon, so I fire up most of the rings on the stove and get cooking. Forty minutes later we sit down to lunch/dinner, with plenty of golden crispy potatoes to go along with the peppers, onions and chorizo.

Lovely.

An hour of Bangers and Cash, and it was four in the afternoon. The sky cleared and there was a spectacular sunset somewhere behind Di's.

Football in the evening: Watford v Ipswich on the tellybox, and Newcastle on the radio. Who said men can't multi-task?

With the results obvious by twenty past nine, I head off up to bed, tired out by the tasks of the day.