Friday 8th February 2016

Sunday

And for a change, the sun did shine and there was brightness on the land. Jools assumed that I would want to sit around in my jimjams watching football until after nine. But no, what with the horror show from City on Saturday, I would save that delight for another time. No, what interested me was getting out and taking some shots. The two ongoing projects: Burlington House and the repairs to the sea wall at Shakespeare. And then there are orchids.

There are always orchids. The season is nearly upon us, the madness awaits.

But until then there is the track repairs and the wrecking ball!

There was no traffic on Jubilee Way nor along Townwall Street, which was the quietest I have seen it since we went down there on Christmas Day 13 months back. No traffic at all for the port. Well, that might change with the latest storm which was due to blow in that evening, but until then we drove upto Aycliffe, park next to the subway, grab the cameras and begin the walk up the narrow path leading to the overview above the tunnel entrance and the wonderful views back to the port.

I take my steps carefully, dodging the dog's eggs that litter the paths around here; never pleasant, but with there so much mud around, it becomes a lottery. However, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, as I look down on the the railway below, it looks almost ready to have tracks relaid on it; some mistake surely? But no, as I go further up, I can see more of the sea wall and all sink holes and excavations had been filled in, and a layer of hardcore had been put down, and now it looks like just the ballast and tracks need to b put down. Amazing. No official word on that as yet, mind.

I take the shots, but with so little to snap now, I don't walk back to the roundabout as I planned. Instead I walk back down to the car and drive us to near The Mash Tun so I can do one last round of shots of Burlington House. Only it isn't there any more. The final parts we demolished last week, and now all that remains is a huge pile of rubble. And the row of shops fronting onto Townwall Street. The high winds had knocked down the sheeting hiding these last remains, so I snap those. Further along, Russell Street is now fenced off as the car parks are dug up ready for what seems are newer, shiner car parks. Car parks of the 21st century where DDC can charge double or treble what they used to. Hoorah for the future!

You all know about Samphire Hoe, made from the poil from the Channel Tunnel, under the lea of the the cliffs between Dover and Folkestone. Well, it is nearly time for the orchid madness to begin, and as we're here might as well go check out the rosettes. Up the A20 over Shakespeare Cliff, then down the tunnel down onto the Hoe itself, parking near the visitor centre, which meant it was time to get out the 150mm for some macro work. It's been some time, my friend.

Samphire is home to the largest colony of Early Spider Orchids, I say this without hiding the information, as anyone can Google it and find out this information. I know, its how I first found out, and a chance meeting with another orchid fan lead me down the rabbit hole of madness. Anyway, along the path, looking down to see if there were any signs. I think I saw a few, but nothing worth snapping, at least for now. Much more impressive was the view at the end of the Hoe, looking down onto the beach and across Wear Bay towards Folkestone. Waves crashing onto the beach, with dogs and their owners having to jump out of the way.

I walk back slowly over the Hoe, unable to take the sea wall route because of the waves crashing in. Bloody health and safety!

Jools is waiting, for me and for news of the next and final call. More orchids.

We drove along the A20 to Folkestone then up through Hawkinge taking the road up to Wigham, but turning off before crossing the A2. A glorious morning, sun shining brightly, and the countryside apparently waking up from its short slumber, alive with vibrant colours.

The beech wood is in a deep valley. Well, deep for Kent, and along the bottom of the valley runs a quiet road. A bridleway goes up one side, and on the other is the beech wood. First of all, up the bridleway, is where I know I will find Early Purple rosettes. It was mussy, but I was wearing my boots, stomping along, which might explain how the buzzard some 25m ahead of me lifted up and flew through the branches of the trees overhanging the track. On each side beds of wild bluebells were showing, pushing up two green fingers to the sky.

A little further p I see the first rosettes: one deeply spotted and other unmarked. As it should be. They are well advanced, especially for the first week in February. I try to look for the Butterfly Orchids, but my eye is out on those. No sign that I can see, at least for now anyways.

Back down the track and over the road, into the wood, and where last July when I last came looking for the fabled Ghost, it was so overgrown, now there is bare ground between the trunks, bare but covered in fallen leaves an inch or so thick. And in places, there are rosettes. Some large, some small, but signs of spring nonetheless. I see Lady, Fly and Common Twayblade at least, I feel it is going to be a great season again with all the rain we had this winter.

I stomp around, see more and more rosettes, but many still quite small. It will several weeks, if not a couple of months before they will flower. Even still, it could be a very early season as long as we don't get a cold snap or two...

It is half eleven, my stomach says time for lunch, so we drive home and finish off the batch of rolls Jools had gotten in for when I came home on Friday, we also finished off the last slice of the second Christmas cake. Always a sad time, but they really did last well this last Christmas. Only ten and a half months until we have the next slice!

It is the afternoon, an afternoon for listening to football, maybe snoozing on the sofa, and make a fuss of all the cats.

The plan for the rest of the day is for celebrating: It is Jools' Dad's birthday, so he and Jen were coming round for dinner, and I was to cook the best steak I could. And as I like a challenge, I accepted.

I prepared the steaks that morning, oiled and peppered, so they would be nice and tender when cooked. I think Jen was a little disappointed when she saw I cooked them by the use of a stopwatch, just two and a half minutes each side. I microwaved the jacket spuds, then fried them. Finally, I cooked some garlic mushrooms, all done to be perfect at the same time. And it did turn out just wonderful too. The steak was very tender, red in the middle except for Tony who only wanted it pink. I had bought some salted caramel dessert things with coffee to round things off.

We ended the evening with a couple of hands of Meld, which with the booze that flowed was interesting and full of laughter. A fine evening, and Jools and Jen did the washing up too! perfect.