Friday 3rd July 2015

I am now just back from dropping the cats off at the cat hotel, or cattery as they insist on calling it. Its a hotel for cats I tells you! I now have the packing and loading, which seems like a massive task, but will probably take half an hour. I am to pick Jools off at half two, maybe leave home at one, so time is ticking away.

Thursday

And so it rolled round, that the first day of the holibobs rolled round. Only, someone, me, had agreed under duress to chair a meeting that morning. Which meant that I had to drop Jools off at work, then drive back for the meeting, which under normal conditions would not have been a problem. But, then there is the strike.

The strike in Calais was called off on Wednesday evening, but the backlog is expected to take a week to clear. So, not really knowing to expect, we set off for Hythe half an hour early, just in case of queues. Only, Dover was a ghost town. There was less traffic than ever, a few trucks were in line enar the port, but the rest of Townwall Street and up through Aycliffe, it was empty. And then there was another small queue at the new lights, with maybe half a mile more of trucks taking up one lane.



We drove along at 70, not really stressing about it. We take the second turnoff at Folkestone, and take the back road to Hythe, which crosses the M20 and the turnoff for the Tunnel, and then we saw the trucks! Trucks here there and everywhere.

After dropping JOols off, I drive back, deciding to risk it through the town, which meant cruising past the long lines of parked trucks. Quite an amazing thing. Back along Townwall Street, then right at the roundabout at East Cliff then back up Jubilee Way and home. Took a bit longer than usual, but not too bad.



I had so much planned, but first the meeting, then writing up the notes to circulate them. That took two and a half hours, and in that time, clouds rolled in and the wonderful sunlight vanished. I had messed up the shots of the Marsh Helleborines last week, so my plan was to first to head to SBBOT to re-take them, if I could. I drive over to Sandwich, then the narrow road to the estate. I pay the quid to get to the observatory. I am in luck as there is no ringing, so I can get to the orchid site. But the sun was now replaces with low dark clouds, and spots of rain was falling.



I decided to risk it, grabbing my camera and gorillapod. At the site, the Southern Marsh were going over, but a couple were worth snapping. The Helleborines were at their best, so I rush round firing shots off, and once back home I check my shots and they were great!



All around the site were dark clouds, and there was even a few rumbles of thunder. I decide call in on the old folks back home to drop the door key off, as they are going to water our plants. But, the house was empty: the radio was one, the windows open, but no one there. Taken by aliens I expect.



Back home I have lunch and check out the storm-tracker site, to see there is a massive storm just over the Channel in northern France. I hope it is going to come over to us, but after an hour or so, it moves up the coast to Belgium. I cannot be bothered to go back out, so break out the football DVDs and watch the highlights of the four matches against Ipswich, then the Play off final itself. Three hours had passed, and it was now nearly 5.

I get a call from Jools, she would be back at Martin Mill at half six, so I tidy up and get ready to collect her.

She is waiting at the station entrance, and once back we have a coffee sitting outside on the patio, talking about the next two weeks. We have a family meal to go to, well a BBQ, and there is no escape, so we drive to Mike's, where the clan has assembled. We are a little out of place, as we don't talk about TV, gossip and so on, so we stay for an hour, have a burger and a sausage before we make our excuses and leave. Somehow it is half eight, we have so much to do.

So, I drive to Coldred instead for a beer at the Carpenter's Arms, which might not have been the best use of our time. It has just been voted pub of the year, so we went to congratulate the landlord. I laso decide to have a pint: what's on I ask. Just the one he said. Well, I'll have a pint of that then!

It is a fine old place, how like puns used to be. We get into a conversation with another drinker about Chine. It is a shame when we have to make our excuses and have to leave.

Back home, showers, packing, washing, more packing.