Friday 14th September 2012

It isn't the worse thing that could happen during a week off work, but getting flu and losing two days getting out and about time due to the congestion one day and the subsequent loss of sleep the next day. Coupled with that, I was eaten alive whilst hunting for dragonflies on the Isle of Sheppy on Monday. My arms were so itch Monday night I was awake at three in the morning scratching away on my arms.

Grrrrr.



Anyway, back to before the flue and the bites. Monday was a glorious early autumn day, with blue skies, unbroken sunshine and only a breath of wind. We headed off in the car after breakfast. Up the A2 and then over the bridge onto Sheppy. Across the island and then down Ferry Road and into another world.



Sheppy is made of what was three islands, although now the water between them is land, it is still possible to see where Harty used to rise above the Thames. We headed over the marshes, on the recently repaired road and want to park outside Harty Church, only to find a sewer being dug along with a new parking bay. So, we parked on the side of the road alongside the nearby farm and walked back past the church and along the farm track down to where we hoped the dragonflies should be.



As it turned out, there were dragonflies and butterflies everywhere, even up near the church. So, we made our way slowly down past the fields of maize, snapping at the dragonflies everytime we spotted one.

Once down near the saltmarsh, there were even more dragonflies, the Migrant Hawkers hanging from the trees like some bizzare fruit. I snapped them all, or tried to, and then down on the ground were many butterflies; Commas, Red Admirals and Large Whites. I tried to snap them all to. Whilst all the snapping, I failed to notice the insects which were feasting on my bare arms. The itching would only start in a few hours by then it would be too late other than to take drugs and scratch.



We headed back to the car, and then back along to the main road. We stopped off in Eastchurch, as jools had spotted a church. Well, there would be, wouldn't there? Anyway, it was open and I took more shots. There was a fine window to Charles Rolls, he of Rolls Royce fame, who was killed in an early air accident in 1910 nearby.



We headed back onto the mainland, and then along to Wingham, where we stopped off at a greasy spoon for bacon butties and a brew before heading to Preston for some shopping. And then back home.

And that is pretty much it for this week, the rest of the time we were either doing chores or I was sick with flu or very, very sleepy due to lack of sleep.

Oh well.