Last night, England conceded two goals in the final ten minutes of their game with Angentina, to crash out again at the semi-final stage.
Tuchel was employed to win the 2026 World Cup, and to ensure, in exactly this kind of situation, being a goal up in the latter stages of a game, being abler to close out the result at win.
He failed to do that.
In fact, his England side bottled it even more than those under Southgate. Falling back to defend deeper and deeper.
Like they did against Mexico and Norway.
England hung on in those two games, but to defend half an hour, an Argentine side looking to win back to back cups, was always going to be a tall order.
On those final twenty minutes, Argentina scored twice, hot the post twice, and Pickford saved two headers on the line. It could and should have been a heavier defeat.
In the 35 minutes between England scoring and the end of the game, England enjoyed just 19% possession.
Tuchel's substitutions were defensive players replacing attacking ones, so that when Argentina did level, there wasn't the players on the pitch for England to fight back.
Tuchel had one job: not to repeat Southgate's mistakes. But he did, and more.
Better to live one day as a lion, than a life as a mouse.
Argentina wanted to win from the start, I heard to described as they went into the game prepared for a knife fight, while England saw it as a step to the final. A friendly referee didn't punish repeated fouls on England, so they were emboldened. Breaking up England's play, so it became a battle, one that meant England tired.
But they did score. A fine goal, but then sat on it, invited pressure. Invisted Messi to play by ceeding space and time for him to pick out passes.
And punish.
Harry Kane will be 36 at the next tournament, and he has hinted he would be too old. What will England do without him?
Thursday, 16 July 2026
Wednesday 15th July 2026
There are some 28 native Kent orchid species that in most years you can see. If you know where to go and when.
There are orchids for most habitats: down, meadow, dunes, fields, and woods. Many are showy, others less so, but even the tiny Musk has a certain charm. If you get close enough.
But there is one that disappoints almost every time. Doubly so it is found only in at one site in north Kent, and as it has learned to self-pollenate, its flowers rarely ever open.
It is small, straggly, usually covered by ants, and is found now at just one location, in a lay by on a minor A-road between two picturesque villages.
Epipactis phyllanthes, aka The Green-flowered helleborine, aka the Green-flowered disappointment.
And I had not made the trip since 2021, and vowed not to go again.
There are, however, other things of interest in the area: the lavender fields, Dark Green fritillary butterfly, and Lullingstone church perhaps.
And on the way we go go to The Larches for some BLH action, and maybe Yellow birdsnests too.
So, I got the gang together, and all was set for Wednesday morning.
I dropped Jools off in town for her class, then scuttled back home for breakfast and tidy up. Iain arrived at ten past nine, then on route to collect Fran from the station, we picked up Jools.
So by half nine we were heading up Old Folkestone Road to join the A20, thus missing out the port and any possible delays.
Then it was a cruise up through Folkestone and Ashford, through Operation Brock contraflow, before finally turning up Detling Hill, and easing onto Pilgrim's Way, where we stop by the reserve entrance.
The Larches is well known, I guess, but for the first time visitor, the large sign for it is now hidden behind vegetation, so would be difficult.
Then along the path beside the road for five minutes, no real indication that there would be any open space, until you reach a crossing of paths, and in front is the meadow-cum-clearing.
Our first task was to turn left to look for the Yellow birdsnest under the canopy of some large trees, and in deep leaf litter we find three emerging spikes, in no better condition that the ones we found at Barham earlier in the week.
After snapping those, we turn round and walked back to the clearing, taking the side track to the upper gate, and from there I could see an amazing almost yellow BLH spike.
BLH are a variable species, with size, spike density, flower colour and so on differs from plant to plant, but here there are almost green ones all the way through to dark flowered spikes, almost chocolate-coloured.
Fran spots and snaps her first Chalkhill blue of the year, but it flies away when it sees my DSLR, as they always seem to do.
Then walk to the first of the orchids, getting some fine close ups with spikes covered in ants, and some with drunken wasps crawling among the flowers, their heads overed in pollen.
Huge amounts of St John's Wort covered the ground, and elsewhere, Ploughman's spikenard was coming into flower, though plants less vigorous than in previous years.
By the trees, there were many more BLH spikes, including the fine spike with Variegated basal leaves.
Finally, to the other path running along the bottom of the meadow, where there were dozens more spikes of BLH, some chocolate brown, and some green, many between the two.
An amazing visit.
We walk back to the car, then out back onto Detling Hill, turning down towards Maidstone, then back onto the motorway towards London.
We turn off just before it joins the M25, and turn back down the hill, across two roundabout before taking the turning to Eynsford.
Through the village, which is clogged with traffic caused by delivery vehicles, delivering. But out the other side, we pull up at the lay by.
On the left hand side, there were perhaps a dozen small plants, some with malformed spikes, those with normal flowers were closed tightly shut.
We take pictures, then I go to explore the bank to see if the colony had spread. I do find two spikes of a helleborine, but think they were of a BLH. Apparently there were more plants there, but I was away of Jools, Fran and Iain waiting on the road below, so I walk back.
From there it's a short drive to the next lay by, where from the opposite verge you can get a free view of the lavender fields.
The field has several people in, enjoying the scent and sight of the huge field. We take shots then get back in the car and drive to the country park.
Living here, on a bank beside a golf fairway is a large colony of butterflies, Dark green fritillaries, as species I have seen in Northumberland, but not in Kent.
From the café, it is a long walk up the down, through the wood, then along one fairway before crossing it by the tee, then if clear, across the second fairway to the bank.
The clouds of earlier had cleared, and it was now hot, so we sweated our way to the bank, and began to look.
Out target is a large orange butterfly, and should have been obvious, and in good numbers. But we see none. Nor do we see any Marbled whites either, just lots of Meadow browns and Gatekeepers, with a few newly emerged Common blues being very active.
We also come across a damselfly, a Wite-legged damsel, right on top of the down, a mile from the stream far below. We get shots.
We looked for an hour, then with time ebbing away, we walk back to the café, where we buy drinks and sit in the shade.
It was by now three, and the visit to the church was scrubbed, as the gates to the castle were locked. Although as we drove through Eynsford, I saw a sign over the old packhorse bridge and ford pointing the way to it.
I was set for home, however, and we made good time back to the motorway, where we could have turned onto the M25 in either direction, or back down to M20 to home.
We went south.
On the way we dropped Fran off at Faversham, then down the A2 in light traffic to Dover and home.
11,000 steps done, and hot and bothered. And hungry.
I cook breaded chicken, lentils, and peas & sweetcorn, rustled up in half an hour.
And then, eyes down for the big game, which kicked off at eight: England v Argentina.
There are orchids for most habitats: down, meadow, dunes, fields, and woods. Many are showy, others less so, but even the tiny Musk has a certain charm. If you get close enough.
But there is one that disappoints almost every time. Doubly so it is found only in at one site in north Kent, and as it has learned to self-pollenate, its flowers rarely ever open.
It is small, straggly, usually covered by ants, and is found now at just one location, in a lay by on a minor A-road between two picturesque villages.
Epipactis phyllanthes, aka The Green-flowered helleborine, aka the Green-flowered disappointment.
And I had not made the trip since 2021, and vowed not to go again.
There are, however, other things of interest in the area: the lavender fields, Dark Green fritillary butterfly, and Lullingstone church perhaps.
And on the way we go go to The Larches for some BLH action, and maybe Yellow birdsnests too.
So, I got the gang together, and all was set for Wednesday morning.
I dropped Jools off in town for her class, then scuttled back home for breakfast and tidy up. Iain arrived at ten past nine, then on route to collect Fran from the station, we picked up Jools.
So by half nine we were heading up Old Folkestone Road to join the A20, thus missing out the port and any possible delays.
Then it was a cruise up through Folkestone and Ashford, through Operation Brock contraflow, before finally turning up Detling Hill, and easing onto Pilgrim's Way, where we stop by the reserve entrance.
The Larches is well known, I guess, but for the first time visitor, the large sign for it is now hidden behind vegetation, so would be difficult.
Then along the path beside the road for five minutes, no real indication that there would be any open space, until you reach a crossing of paths, and in front is the meadow-cum-clearing.
Our first task was to turn left to look for the Yellow birdsnest under the canopy of some large trees, and in deep leaf litter we find three emerging spikes, in no better condition that the ones we found at Barham earlier in the week.
After snapping those, we turn round and walked back to the clearing, taking the side track to the upper gate, and from there I could see an amazing almost yellow BLH spike.
BLH are a variable species, with size, spike density, flower colour and so on differs from plant to plant, but here there are almost green ones all the way through to dark flowered spikes, almost chocolate-coloured.
Fran spots and snaps her first Chalkhill blue of the year, but it flies away when it sees my DSLR, as they always seem to do.
Then walk to the first of the orchids, getting some fine close ups with spikes covered in ants, and some with drunken wasps crawling among the flowers, their heads overed in pollen.
Huge amounts of St John's Wort covered the ground, and elsewhere, Ploughman's spikenard was coming into flower, though plants less vigorous than in previous years.By the trees, there were many more BLH spikes, including the fine spike with Variegated basal leaves.
Finally, to the other path running along the bottom of the meadow, where there were dozens more spikes of BLH, some chocolate brown, and some green, many between the two.
An amazing visit.
We walk back to the car, then out back onto Detling Hill, turning down towards Maidstone, then back onto the motorway towards London.
We turn off just before it joins the M25, and turn back down the hill, across two roundabout before taking the turning to Eynsford.
Through the village, which is clogged with traffic caused by delivery vehicles, delivering. But out the other side, we pull up at the lay by.
On the left hand side, there were perhaps a dozen small plants, some with malformed spikes, those with normal flowers were closed tightly shut.
We take pictures, then I go to explore the bank to see if the colony had spread. I do find two spikes of a helleborine, but think they were of a BLH. Apparently there were more plants there, but I was away of Jools, Fran and Iain waiting on the road below, so I walk back.
From there it's a short drive to the next lay by, where from the opposite verge you can get a free view of the lavender fields.
The field has several people in, enjoying the scent and sight of the huge field. We take shots then get back in the car and drive to the country park.Living here, on a bank beside a golf fairway is a large colony of butterflies, Dark green fritillaries, as species I have seen in Northumberland, but not in Kent.
From the café, it is a long walk up the down, through the wood, then along one fairway before crossing it by the tee, then if clear, across the second fairway to the bank.
The clouds of earlier had cleared, and it was now hot, so we sweated our way to the bank, and began to look.
Out target is a large orange butterfly, and should have been obvious, and in good numbers. But we see none. Nor do we see any Marbled whites either, just lots of Meadow browns and Gatekeepers, with a few newly emerged Common blues being very active.
We also come across a damselfly, a Wite-legged damsel, right on top of the down, a mile from the stream far below. We get shots.We looked for an hour, then with time ebbing away, we walk back to the café, where we buy drinks and sit in the shade.
It was by now three, and the visit to the church was scrubbed, as the gates to the castle were locked. Although as we drove through Eynsford, I saw a sign over the old packhorse bridge and ford pointing the way to it.
I was set for home, however, and we made good time back to the motorway, where we could have turned onto the M25 in either direction, or back down to M20 to home.
We went south.
On the way we dropped Fran off at Faversham, then down the A2 in light traffic to Dover and home.
11,000 steps done, and hot and bothered. And hungry.
I cook breaded chicken, lentils, and peas & sweetcorn, rustled up in half an hour.
And then, eyes down for the big game, which kicked off at eight: England v Argentina.
Wednesday, 15 July 2026
Tuesday 14th July 2026
Tuesday again.
And as usual, it is up with the larks to go to the gym sharpish.
This was made easier as my stupid brain woke me up at three, and did not want to let me go back to sleep.
So I was first up, so test and jab Scully, then feed her and the rest, before filling and boiling the kettle for that first coffee of the day.
Always the best.
Off to the gym, and it was packed, at least waiting to go in as there were parents and kids waiting to get into the pool, they went right to the changing rooms, and we went left and up the stairs.
I get my favourite machine, set up a podcast and began to peddle.
Although it seemed to be cool outside, it was humid enough inside, and soon it was uncomfortable. So I did thirty five minutes again, which I decide was close enough.
Back down to the car, drive home. I sat outside to cool down, and Jools brought me a fresh brew to enjoy in the cool of the morning.
Jools was gone at seven, as the car needed an oil change, so it told us, so she dropped the car off then walked to the centre for her class.
I would stay home and chill, have a shower and shave.
And was human again.
With the wind set in the north-east, clouds remained all day, so was cool and pleasant, which was very nice.
At midday, eyes down for the depart of Le Tour, a monster stage over the Massif Central, with hardly any flat ground all 180 km.
Phew, I worn out watching it, so how they felt in that is another matter.
And then, to the World Cup.
Spain v France, and what should have been a classic, two evenly matched teams.
But was transpired was Spain not letting France getting into their stride, closing down players, and scoring goals.
Scoring goals wins games.
Spain cantered to a 2-0 win, and France lost, on Bastille Day as well.
And as usual, it is up with the larks to go to the gym sharpish.
This was made easier as my stupid brain woke me up at three, and did not want to let me go back to sleep.
So I was first up, so test and jab Scully, then feed her and the rest, before filling and boiling the kettle for that first coffee of the day.
Always the best.
Off to the gym, and it was packed, at least waiting to go in as there were parents and kids waiting to get into the pool, they went right to the changing rooms, and we went left and up the stairs.
I get my favourite machine, set up a podcast and began to peddle.
Although it seemed to be cool outside, it was humid enough inside, and soon it was uncomfortable. So I did thirty five minutes again, which I decide was close enough.
Back down to the car, drive home. I sat outside to cool down, and Jools brought me a fresh brew to enjoy in the cool of the morning.Jools was gone at seven, as the car needed an oil change, so it told us, so she dropped the car off then walked to the centre for her class.
I would stay home and chill, have a shower and shave.
And was human again.
With the wind set in the north-east, clouds remained all day, so was cool and pleasant, which was very nice.
At midday, eyes down for the depart of Le Tour, a monster stage over the Massif Central, with hardly any flat ground all 180 km.
Phew, I worn out watching it, so how they felt in that is another matter.And then, to the World Cup.
Spain v France, and what should have been a classic, two evenly matched teams.
But was transpired was Spain not letting France getting into their stride, closing down players, and scoring goals.
Scoring goals wins games.
Spain cantered to a 2-0 win, and France lost, on Bastille Day as well.
Monday 13th July 2026
Monday rolls round again.
And as ever, my brain has me awake before five, though I lay back down after checking the time, and fall back to sleep.
A nice quiet morning in which to wake up, drink coffee, before being dropped off in Deal by Jools at half seven, as I had an appointment with the pediatrist.
So, with fifty minutes to kill, Jools dropped me off near to where The Berry used to be, so I could cut across the grass to the promenade, and walk towards the pier, looking for botanical delights to snap.
Most people out at that time are dogwalkers and joggers.
And me.
I am careful when I cross the cycle-lane to check both ways lest be run down or be shouted at by some lycra-clad buffoon.
But nothing exciting happened to recount.
I walked to the castle, past the fishing fleet grounded on the shingle beach before turning inland towards the clinic.
My feet were checked, nails cut and the rest, while I talk about moths to the nurse.
Jools had suggested I might like to catch the bus home rather than wait for her, as she had to take Cleo and Poppy to the vets for their six-monthly check-up.
I said I'd think about it.
But needed a hair cut, as our trip to southern Europe is a week away, and I didn't want to be wearing a bearskin in forty degree heat.
The first barber I came to had a seat free, so I go in, tell him to make it short, and he gets to work with his shears.
Not as meticulous as the one in Dover or Folkestone I go to normally, but the aim was to be shorn, and shorn short.
C/out satis.
I went to Greggs to get something for lunch: a four pack of sausage rolls would do, then wander to the small bus station.
I say bus station, its a double long bus stop, that clearly used to be busier, but now just has services to Dover or Sandwich, and buses to St Maggies leave hourly, or is it two-hourly?
Anyway, it was due to leave at ten.
It pulled in a two minutes to ten, and five of us got on it, costing me three pounds, for which I got a mystery tour round the housing estates of Walmer.
Which was nice.
Back home for a late breakfast and a fresh hot brew, and then time for some light orchiding.
The season is drawing to an end, but with four more species, possibly, to see, we would be heading back to Barham.
First of all, we stop at Hearts Delight Lane, and walk up hoping to see some Broad-leaved helleborines. There used to be dozens here, but we found just one in flower, with several blind spikes in the undergrowth.
But no Yellow birdsnests.
Further along we stop at the dog-walker's wood, and after some searching find about eight Yellow birdsnest spikes, though most were already going brown soon after emerging.
Then to our favourite wood, and the long walk up the path up the down, with gnarled old trees on the left, and majestic beech trees reaching for the sky on the other.
One last push up the steep slope, then began the hunt, using coordinates from previous years after not finding any, I do find three spikes near to where they had been previously.
Further searching revealed three more clumps, the last one with an upright spike with flowers just beginning to open.
We drive back home, getting back at just after one. But what is this? No cycling or football?
Le Tour is on a rest day, and the semi-finals of the World Cup begin on Tuesday.
Outside the wind turned to the north east, clouds rolled in, and it got almost chilly. Doors were closed and thoughts about putting a jumper on.
We had a snack for tea, and to be honest, I was pretty tired. So at eight went for a shower and so went to bed.
It was dark by quarter to nine, and I was asleep soon after.
And as ever, my brain has me awake before five, though I lay back down after checking the time, and fall back to sleep.
A nice quiet morning in which to wake up, drink coffee, before being dropped off in Deal by Jools at half seven, as I had an appointment with the pediatrist.
So, with fifty minutes to kill, Jools dropped me off near to where The Berry used to be, so I could cut across the grass to the promenade, and walk towards the pier, looking for botanical delights to snap.
Most people out at that time are dogwalkers and joggers.And me.
I am careful when I cross the cycle-lane to check both ways lest be run down or be shouted at by some lycra-clad buffoon.
But nothing exciting happened to recount.I walked to the castle, past the fishing fleet grounded on the shingle beach before turning inland towards the clinic.
My feet were checked, nails cut and the rest, while I talk about moths to the nurse.
Jools had suggested I might like to catch the bus home rather than wait for her, as she had to take Cleo and Poppy to the vets for their six-monthly check-up.
I said I'd think about it.But needed a hair cut, as our trip to southern Europe is a week away, and I didn't want to be wearing a bearskin in forty degree heat.
The first barber I came to had a seat free, so I go in, tell him to make it short, and he gets to work with his shears.
Not as meticulous as the one in Dover or Folkestone I go to normally, but the aim was to be shorn, and shorn short.C/out satis.
I went to Greggs to get something for lunch: a four pack of sausage rolls would do, then wander to the small bus station.
I say bus station, its a double long bus stop, that clearly used to be busier, but now just has services to Dover or Sandwich, and buses to St Maggies leave hourly, or is it two-hourly?Anyway, it was due to leave at ten.
It pulled in a two minutes to ten, and five of us got on it, costing me three pounds, for which I got a mystery tour round the housing estates of Walmer.
Which was nice.Back home for a late breakfast and a fresh hot brew, and then time for some light orchiding.
The season is drawing to an end, but with four more species, possibly, to see, we would be heading back to Barham.
First of all, we stop at Hearts Delight Lane, and walk up hoping to see some Broad-leaved helleborines. There used to be dozens here, but we found just one in flower, with several blind spikes in the undergrowth.
But no Yellow birdsnests.Further along we stop at the dog-walker's wood, and after some searching find about eight Yellow birdsnest spikes, though most were already going brown soon after emerging.
Then to our favourite wood, and the long walk up the path up the down, with gnarled old trees on the left, and majestic beech trees reaching for the sky on the other.
One last push up the steep slope, then began the hunt, using coordinates from previous years after not finding any, I do find three spikes near to where they had been previously.
Further searching revealed three more clumps, the last one with an upright spike with flowers just beginning to open.
We drive back home, getting back at just after one. But what is this? No cycling or football?
Le Tour is on a rest day, and the semi-finals of the World Cup begin on Tuesday.
Outside the wind turned to the north east, clouds rolled in, and it got almost chilly. Doors were closed and thoughts about putting a jumper on.
We had a snack for tea, and to be honest, I was pretty tired. So at eight went for a shower and so went to bed.
It was dark by quarter to nine, and I was asleep soon after.
Monday, 13 July 2026
Sunday 12th July 2026
Due to the late night previously, caused by football, I skipped phys this Sunday.
The plan had been to lay in.
I heard Jools get up at half five to feed the cats, would I go back to sleep?
Yes I would.
In fact I slept until quarter to nine.
Almost tea time!
And then lay in bed until my woolly head cleared.
No much to fill the day with, just go to see Jen as we had not seen her since she came back from Sylv's last weekend, mainly because she's been watching Wimbledon, and I have been watching Le Tour.
She was finishing painting her dining room, after the wallpaper didn't look good.
So, it smelt of wet paint as there was wet paint. Makes sense.
We talk, have a brew and so catch up.
But time was getting on. The depart was at half twelve, and we had to get back to have lunch and then retire to the sofa to enjoy a 185km race across the Massive Centrale. Up and down all afternoon long.
After the end of the stage, I went to the end of our road and to the bottom of Station Road to snap a fine clump of Common ragwort, which had caught my eye earlier.
That done we could think about supper of party food and tapas. And a beer, before weariness overcame us and we went to bed at half eight.
What would we do on Monday without football or Le Tour as it was the first rest day?
The plan had been to lay in.
I heard Jools get up at half five to feed the cats, would I go back to sleep?
Yes I would.
In fact I slept until quarter to nine.
Almost tea time!
And then lay in bed until my woolly head cleared.
No much to fill the day with, just go to see Jen as we had not seen her since she came back from Sylv's last weekend, mainly because she's been watching Wimbledon, and I have been watching Le Tour.
She was finishing painting her dining room, after the wallpaper didn't look good.
So, it smelt of wet paint as there was wet paint. Makes sense.
We talk, have a brew and so catch up.
But time was getting on. The depart was at half twelve, and we had to get back to have lunch and then retire to the sofa to enjoy a 185km race across the Massive Centrale. Up and down all afternoon long.
After the end of the stage, I went to the end of our road and to the bottom of Station Road to snap a fine clump of Common ragwort, which had caught my eye earlier.That done we could think about supper of party food and tapas. And a beer, before weariness overcame us and we went to bed at half eight.
What would we do on Monday without football or Le Tour as it was the first rest day?
Sunday, 12 July 2026
Memento mori
This week, a former Conservative MP and Minister, now a member of Farage's Reform died.
Not only that, it was announced that Anne Widdecombe was murdered.
A shocking event.
Now, I don't wish death or a violent one on anyone, and I wish she were still alive.
But. She was a dreadful racist and homophobe, who used her claimed faith as an excuse. She also spoke strongly against immigration and immigrants, and once asked a person who challenged her on thos views as to if the person was a communist. No she was the Chairman of the Association at which you were invited to speak.
As a general rule, if you don't want people to speak ill of you when you're dead, don't do bad things, or say bad things, when you're alive. Especially as miost on the right spend so much demonising those of us in the centre or on the left, what do you expect?
Margaret Thatcher's policies destroyed industries and communities accross the nation, sent generations onto the scrapheap. And yet Conservatives were surprised when many others celebrated her death: what did they expect.
I have heard many of Widdecombe's friends say what a straight talking person she was. Well, if your firend is racist, then it is time for your friendship to end. Demonising a minority is bad enough, but to use your religion and beliefs as an excuse. I am sure if there is a an afterlife and Heavan and Hell, then she will be on the escalator going down, St Peter having turned her away.
Should we pretend her views were those of a bigot? No, we should tell the truth.
I have always said that we all light up a room, either when we enter or when we leave. Be a person who lights up a room, or the world when you enter it, not have others be happy when you leave.
Sorry if any are offended by this, but it is what it is.
Not only that, it was announced that Anne Widdecombe was murdered.
A shocking event.
Now, I don't wish death or a violent one on anyone, and I wish she were still alive.
But. She was a dreadful racist and homophobe, who used her claimed faith as an excuse. She also spoke strongly against immigration and immigrants, and once asked a person who challenged her on thos views as to if the person was a communist. No she was the Chairman of the Association at which you were invited to speak.
As a general rule, if you don't want people to speak ill of you when you're dead, don't do bad things, or say bad things, when you're alive. Especially as miost on the right spend so much demonising those of us in the centre or on the left, what do you expect?
Margaret Thatcher's policies destroyed industries and communities accross the nation, sent generations onto the scrapheap. And yet Conservatives were surprised when many others celebrated her death: what did they expect.
I have heard many of Widdecombe's friends say what a straight talking person she was. Well, if your firend is racist, then it is time for your friendship to end. Demonising a minority is bad enough, but to use your religion and beliefs as an excuse. I am sure if there is a an afterlife and Heavan and Hell, then she will be on the escalator going down, St Peter having turned her away.
Should we pretend her views were those of a bigot? No, we should tell the truth.
I have always said that we all light up a room, either when we enter or when we leave. Be a person who lights up a room, or the world when you enter it, not have others be happy when you leave.
Sorry if any are offended by this, but it is what it is.
Saturday 11th July 2026
It was said during yesterday's coverage, that Le Tour is the best tourist advertisement that France has.
This is true.
In half an hour yesterday, I saw three places I think we should visit on our long drive back home after the eclipse.
Most impressive was the town and chateau of Beynac-et-Cazenac, which the coverage showed as a drone flight along the river.
I think this will be well worth a few hours of our time. If we can fit it in.
Before Le Tour there was morning.
And Saturday meant phys. So, up at six, drink coffee and all ready to leave at ten to six.
I do thirty five minutes, listening to The Bugle, but that was enough. Just so humid. And hot.
Afterwards we go to Tesco to top up the fridge, manage to spend a king's ransom on nothing much, other than another bottle of rum for more rumtopf action.
Back home to pack the shopping away, then make brews and have breakfast.
After a shower, I prepare the pineapple: half for the rumtopf and half for us, some for breakfast.
And so it was half twelve, and time to take my place on the sofa, Poppy sleeping on blankets nearby.
The day had began bright, but soon sea mist and low clouds swept in, egged on by a keen cool breeze. I won't lie, it was very refreshing, and it stayed like that most of the day into the evening, which should have meant a good night's sleep for once.
The cycling was steady, and the only excitement was whether the lone remaining breakaway rider could make it to the finish before the peloton caught him. Sadly, he was caught with 1.7km to go, swept up by the sprint teams all ready for the crazy technical finish.
We had warmed up focaccia and more Caprese for dinner, then had the radio on for some funk and soul, as the evening game wasn't due to kick off until ten.
And the game was Norway v England: Haarland v Kane. It was a tense game, with Norway the better team overall, and they scored the fist goal near the end of the first half, with England levelling a few minutes later.
A tense second half ended with no more goals, but Bellingham scored his and England's second three minutes into extra time, and England hung on.
A good game of football. No bookings, no simulations, just pure football, and all hugs and handshakes at the end of the game, with players and fans of England singing Wonderwall together.
It was nearly 01:00 and I was beyond tired.
This is true.
In half an hour yesterday, I saw three places I think we should visit on our long drive back home after the eclipse.
Most impressive was the town and chateau of Beynac-et-Cazenac, which the coverage showed as a drone flight along the river. I think this will be well worth a few hours of our time. If we can fit it in.
Before Le Tour there was morning.
And Saturday meant phys. So, up at six, drink coffee and all ready to leave at ten to six.
I do thirty five minutes, listening to The Bugle, but that was enough. Just so humid. And hot.
Afterwards we go to Tesco to top up the fridge, manage to spend a king's ransom on nothing much, other than another bottle of rum for more rumtopf action.
Back home to pack the shopping away, then make brews and have breakfast.
After a shower, I prepare the pineapple: half for the rumtopf and half for us, some for breakfast.
And so it was half twelve, and time to take my place on the sofa, Poppy sleeping on blankets nearby.
The day had began bright, but soon sea mist and low clouds swept in, egged on by a keen cool breeze. I won't lie, it was very refreshing, and it stayed like that most of the day into the evening, which should have meant a good night's sleep for once.
The cycling was steady, and the only excitement was whether the lone remaining breakaway rider could make it to the finish before the peloton caught him. Sadly, he was caught with 1.7km to go, swept up by the sprint teams all ready for the crazy technical finish.We had warmed up focaccia and more Caprese for dinner, then had the radio on for some funk and soul, as the evening game wasn't due to kick off until ten.
And the game was Norway v England: Haarland v Kane. It was a tense game, with Norway the better team overall, and they scored the fist goal near the end of the first half, with England levelling a few minutes later.
A tense second half ended with no more goals, but Bellingham scored his and England's second three minutes into extra time, and England hung on.A good game of football. No bookings, no simulations, just pure football, and all hugs and handshakes at the end of the game, with players and fans of England singing Wonderwall together.
It was nearly 01:00 and I was beyond tired.
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