Sunday 28th January 2018

This will be the last post of the month. Just so you know. I am travelling to Denmark tomorrow, and won't be back until the first of February, but I promise to write and bring y'all up to date with what's what.

It is worth remembering that since the first week of June I have had two three day trips to Denmark and a two days in Belgium and one in Harmburg. So, I have got used to being at home, with the cats, never near from a hot kettle. But tomorrow begins the start of either 5 straight weeks away, of five out of the next six weeks away. Something like that. And most of the travel is for training. It seems after eight years in the company, the old dog needs new tricks to be taught, so on Wednesday and Thursday I will be trained.

We wake up just before half seven, and still bleary-eyed after the cards, as is now usual. I make coffee, then settle down to watch the football on the i player, via the computer, as I could rewind to the start of the program. It makes sense to me, anyway. And I can pause it to go and make bacon butties and a brew.

All exciting stuff.

Any by the time we had eaten, watched football, tidied up and started on the roning, it became clear it was going to be a rush if Jools was going to meet with her friend Leanne at ten, doubly so if she was going to drop me off in Barham first. Some last minute changes meant that I dropped Jools off, then drove to orchid central in Barham. Traffic always seems to be so hectic, so it always seems like being on a race track getting to the end of the dual carriageway, then jostling for position as it begins again at Shepherdswell. mI mean, I shouldn't worry, I was going just a few miles further on, but its all a bit mad. I take it easy and cruise until it is time to turn off, down Black Robin Lane and into the woods.

I had not been here since last August when the Violet Helleborines ended, and now her we are at the start of a new season, on the hunt for rosettes and see what else is growing.

The lane is about 5 miles long until I reach the parking spot, negotiating my way round a couple of horses and riders until I pulled off. I gather my cameras and set off up the slope, trying to find a safe path through the mud that had cascaded down the slope. Horses had come down there, that must have been an interesting descent with the hooves slipping and sliding.

Up the slope, past the clump of bluebells, now putting forth fresh leaves for the new year. It could be May before we see them flower, but it seems it might be sooner. Depends on the weather, as it always does. We might yet have a cold snap, or worse.

A way further was the first of the Early Purples; rosettes of various sizes and markings, but unmistakably EPO. There are more a little further on, and on the other side of the track where the var alba ones can be found. The ground is very soft, no worries with drought this season, at least when the rhizomes are forming, so we should have a good show.

We hope.

Over the road to look at the chaos left over from the logging. I say logging, I think it was to think the canopy, but it wreaked havoc with what was growing on the forest floor. But I found over two dozen Lady rosettes, a Fly and several Twayblade. So, maybe things will recover there too?

And as sun fell through the bare branches, I had done all I wanted, so walked back to the car and drive back home, where at least the traffic was lighter and less fraught. Maybe I am overplaying this, but with the state of the roads due to lack of money, it is a dangerous place out there, especially at Whitfield where the surface is breaking up in both directions creating jarring pot holes.

Jools wasn't back, so I have a brew, then after preparing dinner, or the preparations for preparing, I do another session on the cross trainer, by which time it was two and Jools was home.

We sit down for some cheese and crackers, whilst huey plays on the i player. The weekend is slipping through our fingers again.

I watch the last of the cup ties, then cook steak and saute potatoes and garlic mushrooms. As ever, it is rather good. We eat listening to Garry Kasparov on Desert Island Discs, which was fascinating.

After showering, I pack for the week away, speak to Mum when she calls, and here we are, ten to nine and thinking of an early night. Tomorrow we are up at half four ready for leaving at ten to six. So the madness begins.