Sunday 19th April 2015

Saturday.

A day off.

I hope.

I say that as the project now forges ahead 7 days a week if the weather allows, even if I do not. So, I leave my phone on in case of emergencies and/or questions. All very grown up.

It was a glorious spring day, but once again with a keen east wind which took the top off the temperatures, and made the unwary feel cold without a coat. As seems to be usual, I drive to Sainsbury's at seven, to pick up a few bits and pieces, spending less than thirty quid, and only the bacon for breakfast was the item not on the list. Deal is waking up, cars filled all the parking spaces along the seafront, and fishermen were paying to get onto the pier for a session of worm-dangling. Such things are not for me.



Back home for an hour or so, I cook the bacon, very crispy, which is the way to have streaky bacon butties. That done and washed up, we then have a plan for the day: drive to Stockbury to see the orchids and bluebells, then down the A2 to Preston to the butcher and the garden centre. And back home for lunch. Or a late lunch, you know.

The M20 was pretty quiet, and as we were not in a hurry, we amble up through Folkestone, Ashford to Maidstone before turning off and drive up Detling Hill to Stockbury. Despite the A249 being a main link road between the two motorways, and always busy, just a hundred yards off it, there is peace and quiet, if with the soundtrack of the the passing traffic below in the valley.



After parking the car, we walk into the wood to see that the bluebells are almost at their peak, but not quite. You have to look along at flower-head level to seee the blue, otherwise it is just a hint. But still, with the vibrant greens of the bluebell leaves and the new growth of the trees, contrasting with the blue of the flowers, it makes for a fine sight. And in the clearing, even from a hundred yards away, I could see the bright purple of an orchid or two. And as we got close, maybe a dozen spikes already in flower, reaching for the sky. And again, despite it being windy, here in the woodland clearing, there is no wind, and is very warm indeed.



I take shots of the orchid, many, many shots, as you would expect. Further along in a couple of places, there were Early Purples mixed in the with bluebells, showing brightly amongst the blue, caught in a beam of dappled sunlight. Oh, spring in England, there is nothing quite like it.



Down the hill, in another clearing, a dozen Lady Orchids are spurting, with one spike already showing a flower head. Although none are open, it will only be a matter of days. A pleasant surprise then.

We meet back up at the car, what to do? Oh the serious stuff; the butcher the garden centre. OK, it does mean trying to pull out onto the main road, something that if others saw us trying to emerge would move over to give us room: but that would be too easy, and so we have to wait for a gap and try to get out and accelerate as quick as possible. Down the M2, then on the A2 to Catherbury before turning off to Wingham to Preston. The boys are in good spirits, and we chat about football whilst they get my order ready. Jools goes to the garden centre to look for some pots for the front garden. Needless to say when I join her ten minutes later, we get different stuff than she wanted, but this is what happens when I get enthused I suppose.



We have a boot-full of pots, plants, so I have to tootle back home so not to damage the pots, which makes for a pleasant drive in the sunshine.

Back home we have bowls of heart soup, and I have the football to listen to. Despite Norwich not playing, I have to keep an ear out for our rivals, even if all three of them have stolen a march on us. The only bright spot was when Bournemouth conceed a 94th minute penalty to go from sure fire-promoted to being back amongst the pack. Its so close. Two games each left, and nerves of steel needed.

For dinner we have the finest steak, fresh asparagus, sauteed potatoes and garlic mushrooms, with a bottle of quite expensive champagne. This is to celebrate the end of the inspections, 5 years with the company and maybe the new project. Wow, hard to take in, really. The steak is glorious, as is the rest of the meal. I watch the end of the FA Cup semi-final with Reading playing Arsenal: not a bad game, settled when the Reading keeper misjudged a poor shot and it squirmed from his grasp and through his legs into the net. Game over.