Tuesday 27th August 2013

Those of you who read my blogs on a regular basis may recall my assertion that it always rains on bank holidays in the UK. Of course this is complete hokum, and what are you thinking of, believing everything I say anyway. Heck, I don’t even do that! Given that the font of all weather knowledge, the BBC weather department had forecasted wall-to-wall sunshine all day on Monday, it came as little surprise to find it cloudy, gloomy even.



But, having decided the night before that we would walk to Kingsdown, we thought it might get out, so let’s just go for it! Thanks to my experience of walking all the way from home to Kingsdown, and given that the unspoken part of the plan was to head down to the beach to look for orchids, I thought it better to drive to Dover Patrol and walk from there. Yeah, I know that makes us part-time walkers, but you do what you can achieve, right?



So, finding just the four other cars in the car park, we grabbed our gear. Camera gear. And set off along the cliffs with the sky leaden and apparently just higher than the cliffs. We walked down to the start of the golf course, which I guess marks the boundary between St Margaret’s and Kingsdown, and then onto the Leas. We paused to look once again for the Long Tailed Blue. And we managed to draw another blank.



By this time, the clouds began to clear and the sun came out and so the temperature began to climb. We walked down onto the beach and spent an hour searching for the orchids; of which there were no sign. And so we headed back up the cliffs and along to St Margaret’s.. The path was now very crowded. Well, when I say crowded, I meant we saw maybe 20 people in the three or so miles back to the car. And at the car park, it was madness, with people parking anywhere.



We drove off, stopping at the village shop for some milk, and then home for a sit inside in the cool shade, and for me to crack open a nice cold beer.



We lazed around for pretty much the rest of the day: Jools went to pick up Nan, and then I cooked roast chicken for dinner, which in August makes the kitchen so bloody hot. But, hey: it was my idea to cook it so I only have myself to blame.



Once Nan had left, I turned on the radio to listen to the first of the ‘unmissable’ games of the season: Man Utd v Chelsea, which ended in a 0-0 snoozefest, and finished just in time for lights out and bed time.

And this concludes the final bank holiday of the year. With the exception of Christmas Day, I guess.