Sunday 23rd August 2015

Saturday

In 1976 Britain sweltered in extreme heat for weeks and weeks through July and August. As a ten year old, it was wonderful, day upon day upon week upon week of endless sunshine and sonderfully warm where the only thing to do was to spend every day on the beach diving into the foamy waves to cool down. Isn't what every little boy wants? I think so. And the heatwave went on, lawns cracked due to the lack of rain, baths were banned as water shortages came into effect, and we all had a healthy tan.

Yesterday was like just one of those days. And it was too much!

There is a joke that the shortest amount of time that can be measured is when weather changes and the average brit says it is too cold to when the warm weather arrives and we all quip, its too hot.

By the time we were out of bed at six, the day was already very warm, outside not a breath of wind stirred the plants in the back garden and the sun beat down from a cloudless blue sky.

After coffee I drove into Deal to go to Sainsbury's, and along The Strand the sea was dead calm with the pier perfectly reflected beneath it. But I had no camera with me, so drove on to the store, whisked round getting what I thought we needed before loading the car and driving back home.

For a change, I mean it is weeks since we had these, I made bacon butties for breakfast, and soon the house was full of burning pig fat, which is just about perfect. Unless you're a pig of course. And then we had to decide would be carry out the plan for a long walk. Jools decided she did not think it was a good idea, but as I had managed to waste the whole afternoon the day before by watching daytime TV instead of doing something more constructive, I said I would.

I had received a call from KCC on Friday where I again described the orchids, where they were and that the grass needed mowing, just not in August and September. The lady on the phone seemed to understand and was keen to help, but did say that from her records that the area had been mown again that week.

So, I knew it was a fruitless task, but the weather was glorious, so I decided to walk to the cliffs.

One mistake I did make, apart from not leaving until half eight, was theta I had left my camera settings under-exposing my macro shots by 3 stops, which means unusable images, but hey.

The route you all know well, as do my feet: along the lane at the end of the road, across the fields, still fill with increasingly dried beans, to the pig's copse and the butterfly glade. The glade was full of butterflies, so many, some of which I snapped, and most of the shots are so dark....

Anyway, down the dip and up the other side, and was it my imagination of was I huffing and puffing less, even in the very warm sun? I think so.

And then to the top and along the cycle path, with views down to Kingsdown, showing that the harvest is almost complete.

It was a long slow climb upto the cliffs, but once standing on the edge of the cliffs, the views over the Channel to France were wonderful. France was clear enough as were the ferries plying their way across.

Jools met me, so we had a drink at Bluebirds before driving back home, as in her mind it was just too darn hot for any more walking. She may have been right too!

Back home we had more cool drinks, but some reason, I got very sleepy indeed, and as the radio burbled away with the first game of the day, I took to the sofa to snooze the game through. I missed little as it was a dull game, and Man Utd failed to socre. By the time I woke up, it felt like my head was full of cotton wool, and not very nice at all. Still, three o'clock approached and kick off in City's game with Stoke.

It was an exciting game, Stoke taking the lead and then we pulling a goal back, then in the 2nd half it was all Norwich, but the ball wouldn't go in, so it ended at 1-1, which all in all, I would have taken at three. West Ham lost 4-3 at home to Bournemouth, gifting the visitors three of their four goals, so changing the manager isn't always the answer.

We had pizza for dinner. Pizza and ice cold beer. The thermometer had six of the seven balls dropped, which sounds odd, but it does mean it was the hottest it has ever been in our living room.

My woolly head was not helped by the beer for sure, and despite a strong cup of coffee, by half eight I was struggling to stay awake. So, just after nine we gave up and went to bed, not until we watched the news headlines at nine to see the shocking scenes from Shoreham where a vintage jet aircraft crashed onto a busy road. Horrific.