Friday 4th May 2018

And all we have to do is get through today and there will be a three day weekend waiting for us.

Yeah, wouldn't that be great.

There is complete cloud cover, which went against what the BBC promised, no wall to wall sunshine. But that could change, of course.

We do our usual stuff in the morning, sit at the table sipping our coffees before Jools goes to get ready for work. Once she has gone, I can put some seeds out for the girds, then stand at the sink sipping the second coffee of the day, watching the blackbirds and crows come down to feast.

The cats, having been fed, are happy to watch. But as it turned out, there is always that dozy chaffinch that is hard to resist, and is too slow to see the threat. Mulder brings me my breakfast. Still fresh.

I accept it, wrap it in a paper towel and dispose of it as Mulder eats the handful of kibbles I had given him.

Anyway, no time to waste, time for work, switch on the computer to see what the avalanche of mails would bring. As usual, about mid morning, one goes off with a bang, prompting a flurry of phone calls laced with swearing. The job may change, but the details don't. All we have to do is get through today.....

Lunch comes and goes, people are on a short fuze, snapping at each other as we all try to fix things. Damn this.

Half three comes, Jools come from work, and all my colleagues have finished for the day, so I do too.

Weekend.

Three days.

Shall we go to the Hoe?

We shall. Now.

The is Samphire, home to the country's largest colony of Early Spider orchids. It is the peak weekend for them, or should be. Could be. Depends on the season, weather. We are driving down the tunnel leading from the A20, through Shakespeare Cliff, emerging in the now bright warm sunshine on the other side, now just above sea level.

Jools goes to pay for the parking, and comes back with ice cream. Mint choc chip for her, and salted caramel for me. Both have a Kit Kat finger stuck in the top; not a 99, but better.

As we eat, lick the ice cream, we walk onto the sea wall, and round to the end, round the corner, and to the narrow ledge at the bottom of the cliffs. Above is is the remains of Acker's Steps, once the only way from Dover to the beach, other than risking walking through the railway tunnel. The steps are like the ones in the Morgul Vale in LOTR, steep and cut of of the chalk, now crumbling to dust, the railings rusted and twisted.

We walk to the end, down some steps, and I begin to look. Looking for orchid spikes.

They should be easy to see, but there has been a spurt in growth. After 5 minutes I see a spike. Then two, and more. I had seen a shot f a massive spike with eight flowers on, but after much searching I find it, but all had been nibbled by a brave rockclimbing rabbit.

We walk back to the visitor centre, Jools waits there, as I walk along the path, checking for orchids. Truth is, I see more ESOs than many other people, and after six or seven seasons, what we really are looking for are the rare aberrations, odd-coloured variations. I check all the spikes I could see, but see nothing obvious. But with a pair of hunting Peregrine Falcons hunting and calling above me, it was a magical way to spend an hour or so.

On the way back I see a few on the other side of the path, and on the other side of the fence, to the old concrete sea walls, little flashes of red and purple showing where an orchid is bobbing in the breeze.

Jools is waiting, so we get into the car to go home, feed the cats and me to cook dinner; wild garlic sausages (it being spring after all), sprouts tossed in oil with bacon lardons and sauteed potatoes. All yummy. And beer.

But I don't cook that.

And there is no Monty, as apparently snooker is more important. As I am turning into my Granddad, I disagree, noting should stop the weekly dose of Monty. But it is the weekend, more radio, writing and soon bedtime. Heck, Brigton even beat Man Utd to make the day perfect.