Tuesday 16th May 2017

Time is already running out this week, as on Thursday Tony and I are planning to go to London for two days, and then on Friday we catch the sleeper train north. Trying to pack everything in that can be seen in Kent is impossible, we do what we can to make Tony's visit as memorable as possible.

On MOnday, Tony had said he knew of Dungeness, and with the weather taking a turn for the better, it seemed a good idea to go there first. Not much I can say about Dungeness, the UK's only official desert, a collection of old fisherman's shacks now converted to homes and an artist's commune, all in the shadow of two nuclear power stations, and a miniature steam railway.

We are allowed a slow start, taking time for breakfast, a shower and collecting our gear for the day. Jools had already gone to work, so by the time we left the morning rush had ended, so we could make our way down the Alkham Valley road to Folkestone, then up the motorway to Hythe before taking the coast road to Dymchurch, New Romney and to Dungeness. It is maybe a year since I last went this way, and new houses have sprung up in places, but the views over the marsh as the ground opens up look the same.

Once we go through Lydd, we take the road over the gravel dunes, past the nature reserves and entrance to the power stations and finally turning onto the Dungeness estate road. To the right at the wooden shacks/houses, and the left, a wide expanse of shingle leading to the fishing boats that had been dragged out of the sea, and all were surrounded by old fishing gear. And towering over it all is the menacing shape of the power stations.

I drop Tony off so he can take shots, I drive on and find a parking bay, so I can wander about too. The clouds had cleared and the sun came out, so it felt like summer, even on what is usually such a windswept place.

An hour or so later, Tony joins me, we go to the railway station for a brew and use their facilities, the first train of the day rumbles in. Sadly its a diesel, but I did expect that.

OK, time to move on: Tony likes to see my shots of the woodland walks we take en route to look at some orchids, so the plan was to visit such a place in the afternoon, maybe see some bluebells, then walk on so I could snap orchids and The Duke.

We take the coast road down through Littlestone and Greatstone before getting back on the main road to Hythe, and from there we go to the junction with the motorway but head north up Stone Street and into orchid country.

With the bad news about the chippy burning down, we had decided to find a place that did fish and chips for lunch, and up on Stone Street there are two good pubs, but as it happened the Chequers won out because of the quality of their beer. There was only another couple of groups in, but they all chose to sit inside, we ordered our meal and drinks then went into the beer garden, sitting down at a picnic table to wait for the food to arrive.

Two plates of fresh battered fish and handmade chips arrived, which we made disappear very quickly, followed soon after by a pint of Hophead ale too.

And from there, Denge is just a ten minute drive through Petham and then down narrow lanes to the parking area at the top of the woodland drive. Sadly the bluebells are almost all over, but there was enough to make a shot or two for Tony. But with the leaf canopy nearly complete, very little sunshine was making it through to the woodland floor to lit the bluebells, which is why they are fading fast; their time is past.

We meet another orchid fanatic on the walk down, and we exchange news about other sites and people who try our patience, to Tony he says it seems we were talking in code, but at the same time fascinating. But he might have just being kind.

We walk on to Bonsai, and take the circular path, and the Lady are at their peak, with hundreds if not thousands of spikes in the long grass and undergrowth. I was looking for very dark or very plale examples, and do find one or two very dark ones, and just as we were about to leave the site on the way back, three very pale ones, with white lips, but sand coloured hoods, not quite pure var. alba.

We could find no Dukes basking, it was too warm, but as we left the site, a single male settled in front of us, so Tiny can now say he saw one. Not that it would impress many people back home.

With the time now nearing three, and I had dinner to prepare and cook, we have to head home, taking the cross-country route from Whitfield getting home just before four. Unbeknown to Tony I had invited a fellow Flickr-contact for dinner, so I was making roast beef and all the usual trimmings for us all. And as you can tell, this would be warm work on such a hot afternoon.

Jools comes back at quarter to six, and Peter arrives just before half six, a surprise for Tony. But that means they can talk whilst I cook the vegetables, Yorkshire puddings and roast potatoes. All come together to be ready at seven.

Dinner is great, even if the chef says so himself, and we all clean our plates clean, which is a good sign I guess.

I was so hot, so we sit outside as dusk falls, Peter has to drive home before it gets dark, so Tony waves him goodbye, as the day fades to black.