After what seems like weeks and weeks of endless sunshine, it came something of a shock to see the forecast for clouds and mist actually be accurate for Saturday. And so, in something of a change, the day became one for relaxing. I have a stack of photos still to sort through, and Jools has beading, and then there is the garden.
And so, we managed to while the day away until in the afternoon, the sun began to shine, and we could sit out in the back garden in the watery sunshine. My friend, Shelly, in Denmark had supplied me with a bag of Danish candy to bring back, and so we had regular breaks from our doing nothing. Out in the wide world of sport, Chris Froome maintained his lead of Le Tour into the final stage which was to be completed on Sunday evening: England were bashing the Aussies at Lords and coming after Andy Murray winning Wimbledon, it seems British sport can do no wrong, but then as the footballs season comes rushing towards us, it reminds us of the repeated failures of our teams from all British countries at all levels.
It seems bad to have spent all of Saturday busy doing nothing, as on Sunday I had to travel to Denmark for work, thus cutting my weekend by a third, and reducing the time on Sunday I could be out snapping. But, as we rounded off the day with battered sausage and chips from the chippy and a two our Time Team special on the palaces of Henry VIII followed by Carol Vorderman’s ‘Who Do You Think You Are’, and very good it was too. So, after all the excitement of the day, we headed to bed.
Sunday.
And where was the sun the Met Office promised us? What this this fog I see before me? It’s fog, Ian!
Oh yeah.
So, we give it a couple of hours for the mist to clear, and then we head out for Temple Ewell on yet another butterfly hunt. Yes, now the late Spring orchids have stopped, it is time to revert to butterflies. And in my sights this time were Chalkhill Blues, as the Adonis had finished. So, we thought we would go.
Writing that, I must be honest and say that instead of ‘we’ I should have written I. I thought we should go to Temple Ewell Down, and then, maybe, to the cliffs to see if they were there. By the time we got to the car park, the mist had lifted and the sun was breaking through the cloud. I grabbed my camera and we headed up the path, dodging the nettles and dog’s eggs.
Once into the sunshine of the meadows above the tree line, we saw nothing flying. But as we walked through the long grass we bagan to see plenty of Marbled Whites, Marbled Bowns and Small Skippers. And then Jools saw a flash of blue, and sunning itself on a leaf was a Chalkhill straight ‘out of the wrapper’ as it were, looking so wonderfully new and perfect. It was one of about a dozen we saw as we climbed higher until we were within a hundred yards of the A2.
We sat down to taken in the view of the valley below us, the houses along Old London Road hardly visible, making it seem wonderfully rural. The sun really broke through, casting the church and school below in warm sunshine. Dog walkers passed us by, whilst behind us traffic headed to and from Dover.
We headed back down, seeing many more blues, all of them Chalkhills, and some feasting on dog poo, as they need the minerals it contains, and so we leave them to breakfast.
In the distance I see a guy in the long grass, apparently with a dog on a lead. As we get nearer I see a flash of golden brown as something investigated the noise we were making through the grass. I asked the man what he had, expecting him to say a puppy as it was clearly small. Turned out to be a Bengal Cat, a hybrid with a wild animal from the far east, looking like a domestic cat, but in fact a fierce wild animal. And he has the most wonderful markings.
He is interested in us, and lets us stroke him, but is aware all the time of the wildlife and movement around him. A dog was threatened as we watched. But the lead and harness held him back. We left the cat and owner and headed down to the car. I had three hours left before it was time to leave, so we headed back for coffee and lunch.
I pack, grab a shower and was ready to go. One on a Sunday afternoon seemed way too early to be going to work! I caught the quarter to two train, and am in the airport by half three, but the KLM desk refused to check in my bags until two hours before flight time. So I click my heels for twenty minutes before they take my bags and I can go to security.
Due to Danish holiday season, flights have changed, and so there are no direct BA flights, so I have to fly KLM and go via Amsterdam. So, I have new check in procedure, and now a flight on a ‘proper’ plane with, like a hundred seats and stuff. So, I have time for dinner; just a salad and some bread, but nice enough. And I sit down to read a book I picked up from our shelves ‘Tales from The Strand’ a collection of short stories from the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries.
Time soon goes, and its time to board and head out to naughty Amsertdam.
It is just a short hop, and soon we are coming down to land again. All I have to do is get to the departure gate for the flight to Billund. It is like 10 miles to the gate, and in the way was immigration. So, I have to queue up to have my bag scanned. Again. And my passport inspected, although I do not really go into Holland. Once through, I walk to the gate, and find the free wi-fi and so check mails, the cricket score and whether Froome did, indeed, win Le Tour. England skittled to Aussies out in less than three sessions and so win the second test and go 2-0 up with three to go. And with seven laps of Paris to go, Froome is still leading: indeed Tour etiquette means the leader going into the last day will win. So, it is a glorious day for another British Le Tour winner.
I do feel sad about not watching one minute of it this year, but there really been no time to do so. Does not mean I don’t care, and have not followed it by Twitter and the BBC sports website.
The flight to Billund was rammed. And there was me thinking there would be about a dozen of us on it. I mean who wants to fly to Billund at 21:45 on a Sunday evening? Everyone, apparently.
I get my case, and go to collect my car keys and walk out to the car park to find that I had been given a VW Up. A tiny car with a lawnmower engine that was so noisy hammering up the motorway at 120kmh. Still, I got to the hotel, got the security guard to open the gate. I park up, check in and ask about food, can I have some sandwiches? No, all the ones for that day went out of date 5 minutes ago: would you like one for free?
And so ended my long Sunday….
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