Monday 4th May 2026

Bank holiday Monday.

Dateline: Lewisham, London.

I had slept poorly under a 500 tog duvet, so was all hot and bothered.

I was in London, trains back to Dover twice hourly, so I could spend the day in the city and galabad about.

But, truth is, London would be packed on a Bank Holiday, so the earlier I left for home, the more likely it was I would get a seat on the train.

I went down for breakfast at ten to seven, had some fruit followed by sausages and bacon.

And coffee.

And it was just a two minute walk up the hill to the station, where I just missed a train to Victoria, so had a twenty minute wait for the next one. Meaning it was touch and go whether I'd make the five past eight train home.

The train stopped at three stations on the way across south London, before turning for Battersea and across the river to Victoria.

I had ten minutes, so swiped out at the gates, found the Dover train was leaving from platform 2, rushed over there and the gates wouldn't let me through.

I showed the guy manning the gates my ticket.

This aint Lewisham he said.

I just come from there, I had to go through the barriers from platform 8 to get here, as there's no direct way.

He shrugged, and let me through.

I got onto the train, asking the guard if I had to sit any specific part of the train to get to Dover, as sometimes they divide at Ashford or Tonbridge.

This has only four coaches, all going all the way to Dover.

So I got in, made it with four minutes to spare. So, settled on the right side of the train for the hour and fifty minute journey back home.

We rattled out of Victoria, up the slope to Battersea, then retraced the way I had just come before passing by London Bridge, so on the tracks we should have been.

From there it ran fast to Sevenoaks, and stopped at the usual places as outside, the sun tried to break through.

Loads got on at Sevenoaks, families taking their children for the seaside on a Bank Holiday, even though it was downright chilly.

Soon we were passing Marden, and the familiar meadows, still full of orchid colour from the thousands of Green-wings. Before arriving in Ashford, then on to Folkestone and home.

Jools was waiting, so I climbed in, wearily, and she drove us home up Jubilee Way.

Home for a brew and some chocolate covered ginger cookies.

Lovely.

Should we g to The Swingate for supper? Yes, we should.

I book a table online and get confirmation mail, which I don't check.

Jen was to meet us there, so at five to six, we both arrived and I was surprised not to smell curry cooking from outside.

Worse than that was the fact the door was locked. The owner came out and said they were always closed Monday, so I checked the reservation, and it was for Tuesday.

We tried to find somewhere to park near to the restaurant at Whitfield, but all spaces were taken by those going to the chippy.

We could park at Jen's and walk round.

So we drive to Jen's, and as we talked before going to walk back, Jools said or we could have a Chinese delivered?

Yes, that's much better.

In fact, Jools went to collect the meal, so by quarter to seven we were filling our plates from the foil containers.

And there was enough left over to take home for another day.

Back home Citeh were on TV playing Everton, but seemed an easy win, so don't watch. But after seventy minutes Everton had fought back from one down to lead 2-1, so I put the TV on in time to see them score a third.

Citeh score a second to be one goal behind, and level with the last kick of the game to make it 3-3, but advantage Arsenal, who can be champions if they win their remaining three games.

Sunday 3rd May 2026

I have followed Danny Baker's career for nearly 40 years, and yet not being from London missed most of his early radio career, it was only when he got onto Radio 1 and then Radio 5 did I really listen to him.

I know he's not everyone's cuppa, but he has always worked, and sometimes done things on impulse without thinking, and so suffered the consequences.

Radio 5, for example.

Anyway, I am a subscriber to his podcast, The Treehouse, and have written in several times and been interviewed at least twice in the last year, as well as having been on his Radio 5 show a few years back.

His podcast has an active group of fans/subscribers, and there is a part that overlaps with A Word in Your Ear. So, when tickets went on sale for a live show of the podcast, I wanted one. But was away when the sale went live and could not get tickets.

Then on Tuesday, three tickets were returned. I got one, booked accommodation near to Blackheath, in Lewisham when I last went. Arrangements were made to meet friends before the show.

Was good.

Sunday.

And you know what's coming: up early, to the gym for a session.

Jools did swimming, while I did my cycling. And as drinking might be involved later in the day, we went out for breakfast. To Chaplins in town, ordering our usual in an already packed café at ten past opening time.

Stomach lined. We came home, I had a shower, then got ready my few things I would take, until half eleven ticked round and it was time for Jools to drop me off at the station.

Due to engineering work, Charing Cross was closed, so all bar the high speed trains were going to Victoria, even the ones through Ashford, and the journey onward from there was via Maidstone East, then the Darent Valley line to Bromley, then back across south east London to Crystal Palace and then to Battersea.

The train was fairly quiet, at least until Maidstone, and its always nice to see unfamiliar countryside roll past the windows.

It was a fine day for travel, and no real hurry to get to London, so I sat back and enjoyed the ride.

Entering the London suberbs, the train snaked from junction to junction, crossing other lines to get onto the main line into Victoria near Peckham Rye.

I had ten minutes to find my train back out to Lewisham, and had to find a way from platform 7 to 8, which meant walking almost to the end of the platform before there was a way though, where the train was waiting for departure in just four minutes.

I got my seat, then sat as for the first ten minutes were went back the way I had just come, before turning off and again, snaking through London, in tunnels and through cuttings until it screeched into Lewisham.

The hotel was at the bottom of the station approach road, so I walked down, only to be told I couldn't get in my room right away, I'd have to wait a few minutes.

Turned out to be fifteen minutes, during which I was told I could have a coffee from the breakfast bar. I checked in and went to my room. Clean enough, a double bed and a single. I had a wash, took some stuff out of my bad so not to have a toothbrush in my bag all evening.

I walked back to the station, waited ten minutes for a train to carry me the three miles to Blackheath.

I had agreed to meet friends at The Railway near the station. Makes sense to have it there. And found they had Titanic Plumb Porter on draft, so had one of those, then another with an early dinner of loaded nachos.

And once Keith and the rest arrived, two more pints of porter were supped as tongues loosened and we chatted and swapped stories.

At seven, we walked up the hill to the halls, where we met fore friends and contributors. Hugs were shared, hands shook and the rest. Already well lubricated meant I didn't have to queue for the bar, so went into the hall to find my seat.

Danny was joined by Pep and producer Phil, and talked, laughed and more for three and a bit hours, until it all came to an end at ten fifteen.

The three of them stood on stage to take their curtain calls.

Keith invited me to join his heading backstage.

This was fun.

So, past the queue for the toilets, through a big security door, up some steps, along the edge of the stage, a 18 degree turn and down more steps, through two doors, before arriving at the dressing rooms.

It was all a but unglamourous, but Danny's family was there, as was Louise's, all milling around, and the thin rider was already all gone.

I spoke with Danny, shook his hand, and spoke then to Peps. I realised I really only knew Keith, and was feeling left out.

And tired.

So, made my excuses and walked back up to the lobby and onto the street.

Back at the station I found the next train had been cancelled, so we had half an hour to wait. So I put on a podcast and listened to that until the next train arrived at two minutes to eleven.

Ten minutes later I was back in my room. Had a wash, listened to the rest of the pod and crashed out, as train passed a few metres from my triple glazed window. Soundlessly.

Saturday 2nd May 2026

It is the weekend again.

Saturday was supposed to be dull and cloudy, but we were treated to clear blue skies at sunrise, though the sun did rise out of sight away to the east. As it does this time of the year.

Despite the alarm being set for six, I was awake at half five, so got up and pulled on my shorts for a session at the gym.

We drink coffee, check on the world, then am ready for the short drive to the sports centre, where we were all confronted with a total software failure, so none of the scanners worked, so we were let in through the open gates.

I did my session, though Jools decided to go swimming instead. Giving me time when I was finished to pop to Tesco for a few things we had forgotten, then be back outside the centre when Jools was done.

Back home for breakfast and then a shower, so come nine we were all ready to do some plant shopping.

First stop was Edible Culture in Faversham, so a quick blast up the A2 past Canterbury and into the town, where at the sports centre next door, music boomed out for some kind of dance fitness class.

We bought ten plants, paid and then drove back out of town, over the roundabout before turning off through Boughton to Dunkirk.

Not Dunkirk in France, but a small village in Kent, with another garden centre.

Tucked away at the back of a residential estate, was a good place, so we buy another fifty quid's worth, load the car, then drive home.

We call in at Lydden on the way home, to check on the Man Orchids. This would be a test to see how my fitness and weight loss had gone, because last year I struggled for half an hour to get over the style.

After parking, we walk over the road to the fence. Jools is over easily enough, so it was my turn.

One foot on the lower rung, big step to the middle one, swing my leg over. Climb over, other leg follows, and was over.

Easy.

We find about a dozen spikes in partial flower. Not bad for this time of the year. I took a few shots, then we walk back to the style, both of us climb over at first attempt, and so back in the car and home.

Back home for eleven, giving me time to make salsa for nachos later in the afternoon, tidy up, so to be ready for the last matches of the season in the Championship.

Norwich were playing at Hull, and City dominated the first half, but over and over again, the final pass just wasn't good enough. City scored with a picture perfect goal, only to give away a penalty two minutes later.

A lot more even in the second half, with Hull scoring the winner from an unmarked header.

Meanwhile, Ipswich were promoted after thrashing QPR 3-0, so, sigh.

Later, West Ham hit the woodwork three times and had a goal ruled out for offside, just, and so lost to Brentford 3-0, so are teetering on the brink of relegation, hoping Villa can beat Spurs on Sunday.

We watch Arsenal beat Fulham, also 3-0, while we eat nachos laden with extra cheese and some leftover bacon, which really took it to the next level.

And that was the weekend half done.

Friday 1st May 2026

Friday.

And the first of May.

The year now rushes forward, with days tumbling past us and our next adventure coming over the horizon.

That being said, it was Friday, and that means bins.

Jools had been suffering from a pain in her side, so missed yoga, just in case, meaning we were home together as the sun climbed.

Overnight there was supposed to be rain. But none came, meaning we have had little rain for two months now. But what we had over the winter is keeping the winterbournes flowing.

Jools did go to knit and natter, and once she had gone, I took my camera out to hunt for Holly blue butterflies.

The orchid at the end of the street still hasn't flowered, but a spike is forming. I knocked to tell the house owner that progress is slow and if they could keep the mower off for a while longer.

She said yes, and that the orchid is the subject of lots of conversation between neighbours and the passing dog-walkers. I just hope they won't be disappointed when it does finally flower.

Though I suspect it might now be a Bee orchid.

I would have walked further, but there were three dog-walkers about, and it looked like to of the dogs were fighting over the fields.

I turned back and managed to snap a Holly blue as one settled on some ivy, and paused long enough to get a shot.

I came home for a brew, then sat in the sun on the top patio watching the birds and insects. Another Holly blue landed near me, so I snapped that too.

And that was the morning.

We were hungry, so as soon as Jools came back home I cooked chorizo hash, taking nearly an hour to cook as the potatoes took their time to brown.

At two we sat down to eat, toasted each other and we tucked in.

And that was it really for the day.

We sat in the garden to soak up some rays and be pestered by cats. It grew chilly as the shadows lengthened, so we went inside.

No music quiz this week, so it was straight to the evening football, as Leeds put Burnley to the sword, winning 3-1. I went to bed ten minutes from time, happy that there was no way back for Burnley.

What is football for?

Last weekend, Burnley FC, had their relegation confirmed.

They have played 34 games, amassed just twenty points, and have a goal difference of -34.

A couple of days later, they fired manager Scott Parker, who had lead the club to promotion last year, while on the way to second spot, they conceeded just 16 goals in 46 games. Needless to say, that was a record.

I can remember Parker playing on loan for Norwich early in his career, having a man of the match performance, and afterwards being interviewd in the supporter's lounge while his proud parents looked on. I spoke to them, they were indeed proud, and nice, not in a bad way.

Parker has now took three English cluns to promotion: Fulham, Bournemouth and now Burnley.

Fans are divided on his, as his teams play "pragmatic" football, good enough for the Championship and promotion, but not for staying in the Premier League.

A supporter who was spoken to by Radio 5 said fans of the club were celebrationg, but the sacking had come months too late. It was obvious Burnely were going to go down with Parker at the helm.

So, the point is this, in terms of Burnley FC, what is its objective? Is one triumphant season in the Championship, then a season of defeats in the Premier League, where they earn £100 million not enough?

Is the point of Burnely, and so all football clubs, is to win games. Or to entertain?

Bing in the Premier League two seasons out of three isn't good enough. If not, what is? If they were to finish 17th, is the expectation for the next season to finish in 15th or higher? Is there no ceiling on supporters, owners and chief executive's ambition?

This is the Enron kind of thinking, that year on year the club, the team has to get better and better.

And what then of Arsenal?

Arsenal, a month back, were going for the quadruple. Then defeat in the League Cup to Citeh, and in the FA Cup against Southampton, reduced that to a double. Then defeat at home to Bournemouth allowed Citeh to catch up in the league. Should Arsenal fans just be happy in finishing second year after year? Most other teams and their supports would kill for that, but then the thought at the start of the season that Arsenal had two great players in each position, this would have to be their year: no excuses.

But it wasn't always like this. Teams used t go up and down the table year on year. Sometimes relegated, and there was no riots. It was something that happened. Spurs went down in the late 70s, Manchester United went down in 1974, relegated at Maine Road by a backheel of a former player.

They bounced back.

Clubs used to go on runs of bad results. Managers weren't sacked. Life went on. And teams won again. Or didn't. It never was a crisis. Now if Arsenal or manchester United or any other other "big" teams lose even a single game, its a crisis. Is the manager safe, the headlines scream? Frank Lampard of Steven Gerrard is being considered.

If Steven Gerrard is the answer, what the feck was the question?

I saw it myself when Norwich were relegated for the second time in three years in 2022. Fans turned on fans, spite and vitreol on social media, so bad I unfollowed most Norwich fans on Twitter.

When did we, as fans, get so above ourselves to think we and the clubs we support somehow deserve success? We have to lear to accept failure, being runners up, or relegation of the yang to the ying of lifting a trophy or two. Life is all ups and downs, and we can't appreciate the ups if we haven't suffered the downs.

Maybe, we all take it a tad too seriously for our own good, and on a Saturday afternoon, or whenever TV decides our team plays, instead of watching it, we should just go and watch some nature. Or a film. Or go down the pub. And chill the feck out.

Thursday 30th April 2026

The orchid and butterfly season gets earlier every year.

Some people might deny global warming, but Mother Nature adapts to the warmer temperatures, and plants flower, butterflies and moths emerge when the temperature is right.

Orchids, at least the early season one, flower between two and three weeks earlier than when I started snapping them a decade and a half ago. Species like Fly Orchids were a May species, they now flower in the second week of April. Or start to.

I had seen that the nationally rare butterfly, The Duke of Burgundy, was on the wing, but once we arrived at Bonsai, I wasn't prepared for the numbers we saw in what was just still April.

I had arranged with Iain that he would tag along to see more orchid species.

Being a Thursday, we went to the gym at six, and we both on the bikes a couple of minutes later, doing our sessions. And then to Tesco to get supplies to cover the weekend, minimal amount, so I would use u the stuff in the fridge already.

Back home for half seven, we take turns for a shower, get dressed and have breakfast. So we were ready when Iain pulled up outside just after nine.

It was a pleasant drive up to the Hythe turning, then up Stone Street before turning off at Petham, where the timber-framed houses and cottages were draped with the flowering branches of wisterias.

Onwards, turning off, along a couple of six-foot-sixers to the parking spot on Pennypot Lane.

We had arrived.

From there it is a twenty minute amble to the gates of the reserve, before clambering down the worn steps into orchid and butterfly central.

Every year Bonsai is different, so one really doesn't know what to expect on ear year's first visit.

This year, numbers of Lady orchids are certainly down, though those that were there were more advanced than expected, with one spike already in full flower.

First of all we took time to wander round the bushes nearby, looking for the orange and black colours of basking Dukes, and were rewarded with about four of them, though we chased them until they settled on the grass, allowing us to quite close.

There were good numbers of Early purples, though some were already browning off. Pollenated and ovaries swelling with the seed of future generations.

We walk on and find many Lady Orchids in flower, many more putting up spikes, so that in two weeks there will be hundreds in flower. Although some of the banks leading up the the track than in previous years were carpeted by Ladies, were almost bare, with the densest numbers between the upper and lower paths, where work had been undertaken to think out the trees and shrubs.

At the far end I got shots of a couple of males on the ground, or slightly higher on small plants, so their fine underwing pattern could be seen.

We walk down and round to the lower path, looking for more orchids and anything else interesting.

We found three spikes of Fly, rosettes of Common Spotted, and a spike of White helleborine in flower. With plenty more to flower in the next week.

Back at the steps, we bump into a couple who were looking for Dukes, and were asking identification on several orchids they had seen. My area of expertese!

And with that, it was the long walk back to the car. Jools had gone ahead, so we plodded on, the day now at midday, and it now getting beyond warm.

On the way back we saw several butterflies: Brimstone, Large White, and a single fresh Comma. All good stuff.

We reach the car, so it was a simple task of reversing out and heading back to Stone Street before turning south back to the motorway and home.

At least traffic was light.

And once back, Iain leaves, and we go in for a brew and think about lunch.

I had done nearly 14,000 steps, more than enough I thought, so I sat on the patio enjoying the sun until it became hot again, so I sought shelter inside, and a beer.

Supper was garlic chicken, stir fry and noodles, which came together in twenty minutes, so I dished up and we ate to a recent Steve Lamacq show, something we had not listened to in nearly two years, since he no longer did his daily show. Good to hear new music again.

The full moon rose at dusk behind the house, hanging like a giant cheese above the horizon, while I listened to to Forest v Villa in their European semi-final on the wireless.

Wednesday 29th April 2026

Wednesday.

Halfway through the week and nearly the end of the month.

A year ago we were enjoying our last full day in India before returning home. Turns out there is only so many curries you can have in three and a half weeks, and we yearned for something other than lentil dahl.

But we are home now, and we had lentil dahl for dinner, although when we did return hoe, it was six months before I could face a curry.

I'm a little run down due to banging my shin last week. It don't look pretty, and takes time to do its thing before healing. I had hoped the phys had increased circulation to the extent that my legs were getting better. I think they are, just not as quick as I would have wanted.

So, an easy day then, resting up and trying to ignore the pain, though the pain isn't that bad..

Jools went to her class, leaving me home. I had gone back to sleep after waking up at five, waking with a jolt at twenty past six to find myself pinned to the bd by Cleo.

So, after making myself a coffee, and once the day had warmed up, I sat on the patio with Scully as we pretended that the day was warmer than it looked, thanks to the keen east wind.

It may have looked like Spring, but didn't feel like it.

At least down on the ground, in the lawnmeadow, the Yellow rattle is beginning to bloom, and so it will explode into colour and be alive with insects.

I go out at lunchtime to snap a railtour. Not a railtour, but a test run for a railtour.

A friend had given me timings, I had tried to find if it was accurate, but no luck online. So I drove over to Shepherdwell for quarter to one ready for the class 73 top and tail action.

Only it was now routed through Ashford, and there wasn't time to get to Dover to get in position to see it arrive, so went home as Jools needed the car for a tip run.

One of us had to stay home for the delayed deliver of insulin for Scully, because as soon as it was delivered it had to be refridgerated, and it was already a day late. The customer service from DHL was appalling as their phone number wouldn't connect, and there was no answer from their Watsapp number. And when I asked the driver where the parcel had been, he just shrugged.

Our neighbour, Mick, knocked. He had a huge bag of rhurbard. Take as much as you want, he said, we're off on holiday tomorrow, and have a glut. So I took a huge bundle and was soon stewing the chopped stalks for a crumble over the weekend, and then makin syrup with the remaining juice to pour over ice cream. We just needed ice cream.....

And that was as exciting as the day got. Other than listening to Arsenal on the wireless in Europe, where they drew 1-1. No footy on the telly, so I just listened and drank slow port.