Saturday 16th July 2016

Day off.

Thankfully.

I mean I would like to take every day off, laze in bed or go out chasing orchids and/or butterflies, but the bank manager says no. So, I travel, I work. This means that after a while, I am tired. And being mid-suumer with so little darkness, means I am late going to bed, early waking up; in short, not enough sleep. And with the trip back, getting across London in the crowded tube with the case and work bag, once home I just feel like a deflated balloon.

That said, Jools had done the shopping, so there was just sitting around the house, drinking coffee, listening to the radio to be done. And then there were the cats, apparently happy that I was back, and when I go to sit in the garden they come from wherever they have been sleeping. Mostly they demand food, but sometimes they come by just to say hello.

It is a bright morning, bright enough to do stuff, but thanks to the orchid telegraph I helped establish, I know the next orchids to go to snap are not yet open, so we will do that next weekend, maybe. But for now, another free weekend with hours and hours to fill.

I mess around on the computer, in the garden, whatever I fancy really. I take shots of some of the flowers which fill the garden now. Sometimes its just enough to sit on the patio and watch the butterflies and other insects going from one flower to another, picking up pollen. I snap some of them including a tatty Small Tortoiseshell, which is happy enough getting nectar to allow me to get up close.

The morning passes. Jools goes into town to have her hair tamed, so I am left alone with just the cats and Huey show to entertain me. Needless to say the morning passes in a blur.

Outside the clouds begin to thing, and so I am thinking of going for a walk to the dip, maybe to the cliffs if we feel energetic. Jools comes back and we have lunch then get on our walking boots.

Mad dogs and Englishmen. And Jelltex. And his wife. Go out in the midday sun.

Maybe even worse than that is to go out after two in the afternoon when the sun is at it's hottest, just so I could hunt for butterflies.

We strike out across the fields, with angry looking clouds in front of us, but this is really just a trick of the light, as the sun is behind us, illuminating the fields contrasting with the clouds above. And anyway, the wind was from the south, and was chasing these clouds away, behind us were nothing but clear skies.

We turn down Norway Drove at Fleet House, passing the field of six sheep, who are curious to see who we were. And when I offered them DIFFERENT GRASS that was in their field they came to investigate and try the new stuff.

They ended up following us along the edge of the field, bleating at us to provide more of this new grass.

We walked on.

At the bottom of the dip, the regular summer showers had turned the track to mud again, so we made our way round the edge, ready for the steep climb ahead.

Even before we went down the dip, I could see the combine at work in a field away on the other side. Any doubt that we might not walk to the cliffs was wiped away, as harvest time always makes for good shots.

Up the long hard climb the other side, and along the cycle path to the fork, where the path over the fields branches right.

We could now hear the harvester, and it seemed to be getting louder. So, once over the style, I set up to wait for it to come over the crown of the hill.

Over the top of the downs, between swaying fields of corn and barley, gently ripening in the summer sunshine.

At the cliffs, it was quieter than I thought it would, maybe helped by Bluebirds being closed for refurbishment, which is a surprising time for it to happen.

You could not quite see to France, but almost, with ships passing through the Channel. On the cliff tops, butterflies were clinging on, as were some Pyramidal Orchids, defying the mid July date, and not looking too shabby.

With no chance of a cuppa or an ice cream, we turn for home, walking along the quiet paths behind the houses to home.

Now that called for a beer.

Indeed, we sit on the patio in the shade of the out of control hedge, Jools sipping lemon squash and me a golden beer, both frosty cold. It is ten past five, and as you would expect our three cats are pacing up and down reminding us that it is ten past dinner time, don't you know? Indeed we do.

We think about dinner, and decide we're hungry too, so I make tempura chicken and lentil dahl, which is done in about 45 minutes, just as the heat of the day was fading, so the dahl made us warm all the way back up.

The day ends with us sitting outside, watching the houses on the other side of the dip reflect the colours of the sunset, then the sky turn from blue to pink to red before fading to purple and black. Bats come out, as do massive bugs which the cats chase round the garden. I sip the last of the pineapple rum.

Not a bad life, all in all.