Tuesday 10th February 2026

It is now noticeable that Spring is on the way, even if the weather is endlessly grey and raining.

Some parts of the south west and south Wales have had 41 days with rain, and there is flooding in many low-lying areas.

Even here in Kent, the rain has been relentless, turning paths and tracks to mud, and water gathering in dips on roads to cause more issues for driver.

And then there is the curse or potholes that are all over the country, the main road from the village into Dover is having to be repaired every week as new holes open up.

But in the garden there are green shoots, and the dwarf Iris have begun to flower. First just one, then two days later, half a dozen.

Tuesday begins with an early morning alarm at five fifteen, and so get up, get dressed and go to the gym for six, then on the bike for another session, while listening to A Word in Your Ear.

Time goes quickly.

A thick fog had fallen, turning Dover into Victorian London, dulling sounds and lights. I drive back carefully.

And then back home so Jools can go to her fitness class and then another stich and chat group, leaving me at home to have breakfast, and have a shower.

Rain falls gently outside. The kind of drizzle that soaks into clothing. Weather that looks better from inside, on the sofa holding a fresh, hot brew.

The morning passes slowly. I peel and cube potatoes for hash, then boil them, so all ready for when Jools comes back.

Instead of going out for chores, I cook and we eat at two, while outside the rain falls.

Darkness comes at nearly half five, even on a dull, dreary afternoon. Spring is coming, it might just be wet.

For the evening there was football on the telly, Norwich away at Oxford, and footy on the radio.

Heaven.

Norwich had an injury crisis, with many new signings or young players stepping into the team, no matter, City cruise to a 3-0 away win, and so rise to 16th in the table.

Not safe yet, but better than being seven points adrift as we were at the end of October.

And our new centre forward, Mo Toure, scored a hat trick on his full debut. Josh who?

Monday 9th February 2026

Its Monday again, and so the working weeks starts again.

For some.

I read old blog posts over breakfast, and I can read the sadness in my words when I wrote that the weekend was over and Monday morning rolled round again.

I think I did six consecutive days with at least 8,000 steps, so I thought I would have a day of rest, even if over the weekend most of the "steps" were recorded on the bike in the gym.

As I could lay in bed until whenever I liked, my stupid brain had me awake at quarter past five, with no chance of dropping off again.

So I get up.

Jools goes swimming, and so I am alone, so stand in the kitchen with a coffee, watching the sun come up over the other side of the valley.

Once Jools comes back, we have breakfast, but she now takes a friend out for coffee on Monday morning, so I am alone again, and after some early drizzle, the sun actually comes out for a few minutes before lunch.

Lunch was bacon butties. Or butty. As we eat less now.

And then 90 minutes watching Bangers and Cash with Scully on the sofa.

In a surprise move, I went out to do some gardening. Pruning, or sawing last year's growth off the buddleia, putting the branches in the brown bin ready to be collected on Friday.

I even put the saw and other stuff back in the shed.

Supper was sausage rolls, made with the last of the Christmas stock.

Life is too short to make your own puff pastry, so the shop-bought one was fine.

And so another exciting day drew to an end, with just Sheffield Utd v Middlesborough to entertain through the evening.

Sunday 8th February 2026

About a decade ago, we put some books in the attic to see if we would miss them, and if we did we would take them to the charity shop.

Then the trapdoor to the attic broke, and I bodged it with a screw or two, and although the door held, we couldn't open it.

Truth is, all it needed was a catch to hold it closed, turned out to be a five minute job, fixed after the plumber had to go in the loft to reset the water.

And so then, the books.

On top of the books, are several photo albums, all of which I have digitised, so what to do with them? I have no family left, no one to leave family pictures to, let alone pictures from work's parties in the late 80s.

The albums are still pretty good, but who uses them now? I guess its the tip for them.

Jools got them down when I was away. I didn't want to throw them, but who needs them, and the space they take up?

So, the tip it is.

That was Sunday morning sorted. Or at least once we were back from the gym and cooled down. And me had a shower.

And we had breakfast.

It was another bright day, but felt cold, especially with me still in my shorts.

Before the football started, I cooked lamb and mint pies, roast potatoes, steamed veggies and the last of the gravy left over from the roast beef.

It was glorious.

I also finished up two opened bottles of red. One had less than a glass, the other over two. I slept partly through the Brighton v Palace game.

Then the big game, Liverpool v Citeh. A bit of a chess game for seventy minutes, then it went crazy and was over with Citeh winners, 2-1.

And that was the weekend over with.

A lack of confidence

I was away last week, so missed some of the news.

It was dominated by Peter Mandleson and the fact as Ambassador to the USA, he passed trade sensitive information to convicted sex trafficer, Jeffery Epsten, after Epstein had been convicted.

Keir Starmer had appointed him as Ambassador, replacing the previous incumbant, who had done nothing wrong, but despite warnings about Mandleson's previous untrustworthy behaviour.

On Wednesday, at PMQs, Starmer was skewered by Baddenoch on the issue, and then the Cabinet Office said it would release documents relating to Mandleson, after redacting what it deemed to be in the National Interest.

Parliament did not belive the Cabinet Office, and instead decided it would form a committe, and that would decide what was in the National Interest, not take the Cabinet Office's word.

This is remarkable. Parliament, or the House of Commons, deciding, with a majority of Labour MPs, that it cannot trust the Cabinet Offfice's statements on the matter of National Security!

This has been largly missed by the media, but is a remarkable turn of events.

Instead, it has been a feeding frenzy about Mandleson, Andrew and the Epstein files, and yet no one seems to be concerned with the victims of trafficing or those who were under age when they were raped. Raped by the great, rich and "good".

The Government is now not in control of the release of documents, a process that would have previously been under the control of Ministers and lawyers.

Saturday 7th February 2026

It is the weekend again. Apparently.

After four days away, it was good to be home, sleep in my own bed, even if I woke up covered in cats.

Or cat.

But it was a Saturday, and that meant a day of phys.

I could have bailed as i did 40,000 steps over four days away, but if I were to skip a session, then that could be a slippery slope.

Jools had booked swimming, so I could go to the gym, and plod on at my own pace. Not that we race each other.

So, after coffee, we were on our way to Whitfield, I made my way upstairs, while Jools went to the changing rooms downstairs.

I had listened to all current podcasts when away, so I listened to an old Parallel Universe as I puffed away.

Once done, with Jools planning on going to the sauna and having a shower, I went to the car and drove to Tesco to get some fruit and veg.

And filled the tank up.

A text to Jools to say I was done, so when I got back to the sports centre, she was coming down the steps. She hopped in and we drove home, all tasks done for the day.

Once back we put the shopping away, make a brew and feed Scully again.

Before breakfast, I went for a walk along to the street to snap flowers in bloom before the rain arrived.

Just as well I did as rain did arrive before lunch, by which time I was shave, showered and dressed again.

On the walk, the Alexanders had began to flower, so I snapped them. That was about if for the new flowering plants, but many more to come soon.

Lunch was stir fry and chicken, so to have fibre into us, and that was it as the afternoon turned towards football.

Norwich were on the telly, playing Blackburn. A piss poor game, but Norwich scored twice late on to take the points and move four places up the table.

Then onto the sofa with Scully to listen to the main batch of games, before it was rugger bugger time, with England playing Wales.

Could Wales find their old form?

No.

England dominated, and were 29-0 up at half time.

So it goes. So it goes.

A quiet beer and some peanuts in the evening, and that another day at the coalface done.

Phew.

Friday 6th February 2026

Time to go home.

And somehow I managed to get some 11 hours sleep or snoozing.

I finally got up at quarter past eight, and made a brew.

The last act is to pack, look round the room several times to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.

That done, I close the door and drag my case along the endless corridors, up and down the stairs as the lift still hadn't been fixed.

I couldn't face their piss-poor breakfast, so I take the lift down to the street, saving lugging the case down five flights of stairs, and out into the grey, wet morning.

I wasn't really hungry, so pondered breakfast, but decided I would get something at the buffet on the station. I would also not get a taxi, so walk the fifteen minutes through town, past the Alehouse and up the slight hill to the station.

There was no buffet.

And I had fifty five minutes to kill.

So I listened to a podcast and tried to ignore the damp chill.

Trains to Worcester came and left, and then the little two car train came for me. About half a dozen others got on, and on time at half ten, it rattled out and up the branch line, but taking the chord to join the main line southbound, passing through Warwick until we reached Leamington Spa.

I had twenty minutes, so managed to get a panini and a coffee, finishing those off before the train arrived. Another rake of mk 3s being pushed by a roaring 68.

I got a seat facing back, and again the views out of the window were grey drizzle, but the valley around Banbury were now flooded much more, and the meandering river in the middle, lost from view.

All was going well until we came to a halt at High Wycombe, where we were not supposed to stop.

A freight train had broken down somewhere in the London area, blocking the line.

We were to be kicked off at Gerrards Cross, sadly, one stop short of the end of the Underground at West Ruislip.

Instead of being just left there, another train was going to collect us from the other, down, platform.

So the 40 or so of us, all climb over the footbridge to fill the platform.

Then came the announcement that the train was now back over on the up platform.

So we all climb back over the footbridge, and by the time we reached the platform, the train was there. It would run fast into Marylebone as the freight train had been moved.

So it was we arrived at Marylebone some 40 minutes late, which might be a good thing for me.

I went down to the Bakerloo, went one station to Baker Street, then changed onto a Circle Line train to St Pancras.

Up to the station and rushing past the Eurostar queues, up to the Southeastern platform, where a direct train to Dover was leaving in ten minutes.

I showed my ticket and was allowed onto the platform, walked to the front of the station and got a seat.

Phew.

Last leg of the trip, made exciting by a drugged up scrote in the seat behind me, doing deals on his phone and swearing. Then it turned out he had no ticket so was subject to a £100 fine on top of his ticket. He whined to his mate on the phone how the guy was screaming at him, which wasn't the truth.

He got off at one of the Folkestone stations, and peace returned to the carriage.

Jools was waiting, so after loading the case, she drove me home, and once inside we had a huge brew.

Dinner was battered sausage and chips from the chippy, that Jools went to get. And we were all done by six ready for the quiz.

I came second, which was nice.

The case was emptied, dirty washing in the basket and camera battery set to charge.

And it was the weekend.

And football to watch, with Leeds thrashing Forest 3-0.

Happy days.

Thursday 5th February 2026

It was Thursday. I laid in until nearly eight, snoozing and dozing.

I leap up, have a shower and get dressed. Despite the dreadful weather forecast, I would go out.

And after Col and Aidan mentioned their trips on buses, I thought I would take the X18 to Warwick.

One left at 09:52, giving me just enough time to walk to Wood Street, find a place to eat and be ready.

It was indeed raining, but it was just five minutes to Wood Street, and opposite the bus stop was an independent bakery. I go in, order a tea and a cheese and salsa or something toastie.

Both were good, but I realised I had ten minutes before the bus, even though there was another in half an hour.

I go out, cross the road and soon a bus with Warwick on the destination board pulled in. I didn't notice the route number, but instead of the express service, I was on the slow, calling at all villages services.

But it was fine, I was in no hurry.

So the bus roared and bounced its way down narrow roads in housing estates, short bursts of full speed, before pulling off into a village.

The rain still came down, running down the windows, but they were all condensated, so you couldn't see out of them anyway.

All trips on buses in the county cost just £3, so was a bargain.

After an hour we arrived in Warwick, pulling in at the small bus station. We all thanked the driver as we got off, as its what Brits do.

A map and signpost showed the way to the town centre, so I walked up the street until it opened up into a square with the town hall in the centre.

If only I knew where the church was. I looked round and saw the four pinnacles of the tower over the roofs of the shops.

I walked towards it.

St Mary was open. Col had checked that it would be. It was due to open at 11, it was ten to, but the door swung open, and the warmth inside hit me like a woolly blanket.

I received a warm welcome too. A guide showed me to the Beauchamp Chapel, down some steps where Elizabeth I's beau is buried with his higher born wife, so in eternity, she lays slightly above him to remind Dudley he didn't marry Good Queen Bess.

The church is huge, and full of delights. I was inside for nearly 90 minutes, and still missed things to photograph and admire. There was some ancient glass, and some good Victorian glass too.

At quarter past twelve I was done, or churched out. I walked outside, and into the Rose and Crown opposite, where I ordered a pint of Timothy Taylor Boltmaker, which was so good I had a second, and an Indonesian curry with sambal.

Delicious.

One last thing to see and snap, was the Westgate with Lord Leycester Hospital beside it. The latter sadly closed until March, so I made do with shots of the gate, with chapel above and the timber framed buildings of the hospital, timbers and walls all at different angles.

Rain began to fall. And it looked set in, so I checked with the bus timetable, and it seemed a bus was due in ten minutes, so I walked back to the bus station, to shelter A.

And waited.

And waited some more.

It was twenty five minutes late, so not sure if it was the next one early, or the previous nearly half an hour late.

Whatever, it was the express service, and it made good time. I sat on the upper deck, because its the law on a double decker, so the trees being shaken in the strong wind, scratched down the roof.

It was still raining in Stratford, so I went into Tesco for supplies of pop, crisps and biscuits before walking back to the hotel for a feast of dirty food.

I read more of Cameron Crowe's book as rain hammered down outside. It grew dark and so I climbed into bed to read, so to keep warm.