Friday 29th June 2018

We have nearly made it to the end of the work week, the month and the mid-point of the year.

And you're still with us, well done you!

And me.

Another day working from home, but one with the sun shining down again from a blue sky meaning I had at least one eye on what was going on outside, when I had other things better to do inside. Well, work anyways.

And yes, you would be disappointed if there had not been meetings. So there were meetings. Spreadsheets to be updated, grenades to throw in mails and in general try to keep everyone happy, when in fact everyone is pissed off as hell.

The morning progresses; there is a trip to the Isle of Wight to arrange, working hours to log, and somehow I manage to squeeze it all in to the seven hour working day so when Jools returns from work, via M&S where she has bought me some new slippers, so we can go straight out as there are orchids to see.

Always with your orchids.

It was breezy, but warm out of it, warm enough driving to Sandwich through Eastry, then past the station, up onto Knightrider Street and to the estate, where, lucky for us, there was no one on the toll, so we saved ourselves seven quid, or a pound as we were just going to the Bird Observatory.

After parking, and trying to ask someone if it was OK to go to the ringing area, and finding no one, we set off across the road, across the meadow, past the ringing area to the dune slacks.

As ever, the slacks stretch for hundreds of yards, if not miles, and yet the Marsh Helleborines grow in two neighbouring colonies, so closely packed together now, there is no path between the spikes. I stand there just taking the scene in.

The Marsh Helleborine is one of the most attractive orchid species, its lip shape and colourisation is so wonderful, and nationally only its cousin, the Dark Red Helleborine looks any better.

I take shots, on the far side laying on a path to get some close ups.

And we are done.

So we leave, and on the way out, Jools spots to spike of a pure white Southern Marsh, which had last been seen about three years ago.

So I snap that too.

We walk back to the car, then take the ancient road along the dunes past the two golf courses into Deal, drive along the sea wall until we come to near the pier, find a space to park on the side of the road, then walk along the prom to where the chippy is.

This is the one that brined down last year, but is now refurbished and looking sparkling. We take a seat inside and both order cod and chips, although I find later they had skate. A short wait and then a huge plateful of golden deliciousness is presented to each of us, the fish so fresh it was pure white and fell apart in flakes as you cut into it.

Did we want dessert?

Nice thought, but no thank you.

Anyway, there are three hungry mogs back home, so we walk to the car, then wind our way back through the town, Walmer and home.

We watch some Expanse and then Gardener's World, on which is a friend of mine talking about his love of wild orchids!

We both recognise the filming locations, and delight in seeing the orchids again. But the message is hammered home; do not pick or dig up.

It also drives home the fact that we are so lucky to live in Kent where we can see close to 30 species of wild orchid, if you know where to look of course.

Your weekend Brexit.

A simple blog, just to recap the corner that May and the Brexiteers through sheer advance incompetence have painted themselves:

1. UK will leave the EU at 23:00 on 29th March 2019. Or less than 9 months!

2. UK will leave unless the UK government changes its mind. It can.

3. May has ruled out any part of UK being under the jurisdiction of the UCJ, thus ruling out almost any kind of close relationship with the EU.

4. The UK has committed itself to there not being any hard border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland.

5. In order for this to happen, UK or NI would have to be in both the SM and CU and there to be tax equivalence on both sides of the border.

6. May has ruled out NO or Britain being in either the SM or CU, but has agreed on tax.

7. The DUP also want the UK to leave the EU, SM and CU.

8. And there be no hard border.

9. Jeremy Corbyn also wants UK to leave the UK to leave the EU, SM and CU.

10 And ruled out a hard border.

11. In order for the above to be true, then the border would have to be in the Irish Sea, between Ireland (both parts) and Britain.

12. May has ruled this out.

13. So has the DUP.

14. So has Corbyn.

15. So the only solution is for all of UK to remain in the EU, CU and SM.

16. Which May, DUP and Corbyn has ruled out.

17.UK wants flexibility on freedom of movement.

18. This is indivisible from the other 3 freedoms, so the EU will never bend on this, certainly not to what will soon be a 3rd country.

19. In the EU the UK had opt outs. Out of the EU the UK wants opt ins. Free ones if possible. The EY has ruled this out.

20. There has to be a ratification process in the EU27 and EU Parliament for anything else other than a no deal Brexit. This takes six months. The final six months of the A50 process is reserved for ratification.

21. Meaning all discussions/negotiations have to be concluded by the end of September.

22. July, the EU is on holiday, and some of August. Meaning there is just 6 weeks left.

23. There has been no progress in talks since the start of the year; 6 months wasted. DD has met with Barnier for just 4 hours IN THE WHOLE YEAR!

24. The Cabinet is still divided.

25. The HoC has given the Government a blank check on what to do in the run up and after to Brexit day. Ministers can wipe away decades of accumulated personal, social, gender, working rights. With no recourse to the courts, UCJ, anywhere.

26.After the passing of the Withdrawal Bill, companies are making firm plans to either leave, reduce investment or close business in the UK.

27. Loss of jobs will result in less tax.

28. Less tak means either cutting spending or increase taxing in either ways.

Thursday 28th June 2018

If I am honest, every day working from home seems pretty much the same. We get up, feed the cats, make coffee and prepare for the day. No matter what I plan to do the day, something else comes along to divert me. Then its five in the afternoon, time to do dinner, wait for Jools, wash up, watch some football and bed.

Only the year progresses ever onwards, the days now get shorter, and the garden; well, the garden is a riot of colour as more and more flowers open. Each evening we water as we have had little rain for a month, if any.

Every day is one less until the weekend, when we can reap what we sow during the working week and go out and do stuff, or not.

I can tell its Thursday, as its bin day. So, I put out the rubbish, make a second coffee when Jools has left for work, and watch the clock tick round to quarter to eight when I start work.

It is another glorious day outside; the sun shines from a clear blue sky. Occasionally, a Spitfire flies along the line of the cliffs and I can hear the purr of its Merlin engine. Some people would pay for this view, and for us its an every day thing.

I listen to the radio a while, and then it is time for the first meeting of the day. The first hour of six hours of meetings during the day. I lose track of time, and my brain melts. I grab time to make lunch, and eat as another meeting starts, muting my mic when I munch.

The target for the day is the final group match, England v Belgium; the winner tops the group and might have the easier route, if they win the next game. Both had already qualified. And with the English press saying this is England's year, perhaps it was best that it was a dog of a performance, from a team of eight changes, and instead of the exciting, attacking football of the weekend, it was the usual one pace then lump the ball upfied to the big man. Or Jamie Vardy.

Belgium score the only goal, and that is it.

We now have a day off from the football before the knockout games begin.

Hold on tight.

Brexit snookered

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Wednesday 27th June 2018

Pay Day.

And the pay rise dropped!

Kerching!

Although, if I'm honest, the rest of the day was a bit of an anticlimax, that is until the football in the afternoon.

There is not much to say about working from home, other than the days drag at times, although the weather outside was dull and cool, so not as though I could be going out to do something else.

The morning passes, I have salad for lunch, in a bid to be healthy, but I suspect the dressing had as many calories as a burger, but was nice enough and resisted the temptation to have either wine of beer with it, though that would have been good, but not for afternoon productivity.

So I was productive, in some way, though after 24 hours I can't recall what, but I am sure it was important and of the highest quality, what with me being a quality manager and all.

At three I take my laptop to watch the German v South Korea game from the sofa. No idea why, although Germnay could go out, they would win easily and they couldn't be as bad as they had been against Sweden.

Could they?

Yes they could.

Germany struggle, huff and puff but had failed to score at half time. For the second changes were made, and made no differences. But Germany were creating chances, the Koreans were getting tired and were easily challened off the ball, as Germany launched attack after attack.

And then Korea forced a corner, and from it the ball pinged around and was stabbed in the net. Offside. But the VAR proved that the through ball came from a German foot; the goal stood. Meaning that Germany had 5 minutes to score two goals.

The Germans surged forward, and missed chance after chance. And with time running out, Neuer pushed forward, acting as an 11th outfield player. And then the German move broke down, Korea played the ball forward, the forward breaking from his own half. The German defence tried to close him down, but he shimmied and put the ball in the net.

2-0!

There was just for kick off and that was it. Not only did Germany lose, not qualify for the next phase, but finished bottom of the group!

Amazing.

And that is why we love sports. Never know what will happen, even when we think we do!

Jools comes home, I make chorizo hash, though we skip the pink fizz this time, but I do quaff deeply from the box of red plonk.

For the evening, even though with Brazil playing, we watch two episodes of The Expanse, now nearing its clima, we hope, as we are at episode 10 of series 2 now. I watch some of the footy; Brazil score a second and I switch off, as lightning doesn't strike twice. At least not on the same day.

Brexit stuff.

It was pointed out yesterday that all discussions/negotiations with the EU have to be concluded by the end of September, as you know, to allow for ratification; if there is anything to ratify. Any later then there is the real risk that the ratification will not be complete, and as we know, unless something else happens, ready or not, the UK leave the EU on 29th March.

That both the UK government and the EU are both on recess through most of July and into August, this leaves six weeks of actual time in which to conclude(!), ha, the final agreement.

And remember, nothing is agreed until it is ALL agreed, therefore, there is a real risk, again, that the UK will leave with no deal.

Unless some arcane Parliamentary procedure can be found to put the meanful vote back on the agenda. Stranger things have happened.

But then since Tuesday, the Withdrawal Bill has come into force allowing the state to remove citizen's rights without recourse or review. Nothing as yet, but well worth watching what will be sacrificed on the bonfire of standards.

Time really is running out, especially when you realise that it is over six months since the December agreement was reached, and since then there has been no progress at all. The June EU summit is drawing to a close, and with nothing on the NI/Irish border to review from the UK side, let alone agree or disagree on.

The Dutch PM said today that the 1st 2nd and 3rd priority in Brexit is that border.

But not just that border, Spain has inserted a clause regarding Gibraltar into the EU's position paper. This should not come as a surprise as we said so, and even worse is that Spain, like each of the EU27 hase a veto over any "deal".

On Monday a "behind the scenes" documentary airs on C4 of life in the US Embassy in London, and a leak from the first episode speaks of the UK Government lying to the people, planes not being able to fly. Anywhere. And just how disterous to the economy Brexit will be, and that the UK Government is just ignoring the evidence like its not there.

Today, JRM visited to NI/Irish border and said if the UK keeps its side open, then it is up to the EU to keep their side open, thus ignoring any of those inconvenient facts and WTO rules that get in the way. It really is laughable were the stakes not so high.

Anyway, Brexit will probably go quiet for the next month, just for the last two months of real panic sets in.

Tuesday 26th June 2018

At least in mid-summer, when the alarm goes off at half four, it is light and the sun will soon rise.

I am off to Denmark to attend a meeting, that is mandatory once a month, nothing else to go for, but I arrange some social stuff at the same time, so not at all a waste.

It takes an hour to get our shit together, but we work well, making coffee, feeding the cats, then tidying up, getting dressed and all ready to leave the house at quarter to six. I had grabbed my passport out of the kitched drawer, popped it in my work bag with my travel itinerary and we left the house.

I get my ticket at Martin Mill, and stand on the platform admiring the sun pouring through the trees lining the line onto the track. It was most pleasant. Only four of us were waiting for the train, so when it pulled in we got into our seats and a few seconds later the train pulled out again. I look out of the window, waiting until we exit Guston Tunnel and I can see over the rooftops to the harbour. The line weaves its way round the downs, dropping in height all the time, until we reach Buckland and we join the line from Canterbury.

The train isn't quite full, even after we leave Ashford, I look out of the window, trying to identify all the plants growing in the tracks and embankments. Truly summer is here, and everywhere, even abandoned piles of ballast are full with open flowers.

We arrive in London, and I have my usual breakfast on Stratford station, read a bit of WSC before walking to the DLR station to catch the train to the airport. All was going well, I was not stressed and I was on time.

At the airport I go to check in, my booking is OK, all I have to do is scan my passport to complete my check in, and when I open the passport I see Jools' face looking back at me. Yes, somehow I had picked up the wrong passport the previous night, and just had not checked which one.

And there was nothing I could do. The BA desk told me the evening flight was full, did I want to fly in the morning? Meaning I would arrive after the meeting; no point.

I cancel my ticket and walk back to the DLR station to go back home.

I get to Stratford on a packed train with 5 minutes before a Dover train was due, I climbed down the stairs to the platform, wait near the front of the train would stop, then wait until the train arrived.

I called my boss to let her know; she's not angry, no point in that, but I am telling myself as soon as I get home to put my passport in my work bag like I used to, just to be sure of this never happening again.

I look at the countryside passing by as the train heads south, a glorious day but with clouds over the Channel as we reach Folkestone.

There was a wait for a taxi, as for some reason all cabs in the town are full. I try to call my usual company, but they're not even picking up, so I wait in line.

Back home there is a feline welcome, I open the house up, open the windows too, and make a brew then set about starting work for the day, explaining to my manager what had happened and why I would not be in the office later.

That is it for the day, really.

Work. Lunch. Work, work whilst watching football, as Denmark played, and most of the folks in head office went home early for the day. They drew 0-0 with France, so they both went through, the players kind of agreeing to just knock the ball around.

Jools comes home, I make breaded chicken and lentil dahl; all good stuff, so I can be done to watch the game in the evening, Argentina play Nigeria, hoping for an upset. But, Argentina just hold on, and really were the better side. Not helped though seeing Maradona high on drugs and apparently asleep during the game.

Oh well.

And that is another day over with.

Understanding the problem

A Lib Dem MEP wrote an article for the Independent newspaper today, in which she describes how people, MP's and Ministers in the UK fail to understand what the EU is, and why rules matter so much.

In shot, every country likes a bit of protectionism, and so the EU solves this not only by having rules, standards but a arbitration process, through the UCJ, which addresses and solves and perceived breeches of the rules and standards. It is this that makes the EU work so well, as without it, it is possible for a country's word to be broken and there be no comeback.

Which is why there is no choice than with May's red line about not being under the rule or decisions of the UCJ the only real option left to UK is to be a third country to the EU, either on good terms or bad. As rejecting the UCJ means rejecting the trust that has to be between 27 or more EU countries from east to west, north to south.

And, sadly, May and DD have shown how important the role of the UCJ is as both have tried to reinterpret agreements in their favour, or to muddy waters to keep the DUP happy. This is shocking behaviour in the EU's eye's, and yet the UK thinks this will have no effect.

So the hard and soft Brexiteers have long believed that they can cherry-pick what they want and don't want from the EU, when in fact, the reality has always been, you're either in or not. And to be in, you accept all that comes with it, the payments, the standards, the four freedoms, and the UCJ.

To pretend otherwise to the electorate, the public at large, the media and even to themselves is deceiving and lying.

Being outside the EU means more red tape, checks, obtaining UK's independent trade deals, and al this costs money, far more than any pretend Brexit bonus was supposed to deliver. And trade negotiations, like the one with the EU will never end; there will always be news standards and rules to accept or adapt to, and Britain will be treated as any other 3rd country, like North Korea, no special treatment, not out of the EU.

The cabinet are to meet on the evening of next Friday for a sleepover at Chequers, no really, in order to thrash out the final details of what Brexit might mean. But as I wrote earlier, those same Cabinet members are more fractured and warring than ever before, and the idea of Joint Cabinet Responsibility is something apparently only found in history books or Hansard.

Brexit and the royal seal of approval

Yesterday, the Withdrawal Bill received the Royal Accent, which is part of the UK's legal process which turns a bill into law. Not, as some Brexiteers claim the Queen endorsed Brexit.

Not quite the same thing, as the Queen really can't refuse to sign the bill, as she can't refuse to read the Queen's speech at the start of each session of Parliament; its not written by her, but by the Government.

Meanwhile, reality is still closing in with BMW, who manufacture the Mini in the UK, saying that if there are to be checks at the border between the EU and UK, then manufacturing here will be impossible. The Torygraph today describes such stories as "Project Fear 2"!

The Defence Secretary has threatened to bring the Government down unless his department is given £20 billion extra per year.

And the most damning is that the Cabinet are even more divided over what Brexit is, with Boris and various other Ministers either publishing articles in newspapers or as Greg Clark did, speak at an event organised by the Times where he ** Castigating brexiteers ** Demanding access for service industries ** "Labour mobility", in other words is demanding the softest of Brexits.

And finally, a video was released of diplomats in the US Embassy discussing Brexit and the shock they all share of how mad it is, and how bad, and how much worse things will be if the headbangers get their way and drive a no deal through.

It is now two years since the referendum and the Cabinet still has not decided what Brexit means, there is nine months left before Brexit day, the EU had their three monthly meeting where Brexit hardly featured as two Balkan countries accession to the EU was discussed, not smoothly it has to be said, and there is still no news on what will happen with the NO/Irish border, but there is two choices: no infrastructure or lots. And depending on what May and her cabinet want will decide what the solution might be.

It emerged yesterday that the UK cannot roll over any of the trade deals that it currently enjoys with over 40 other countries, it must in part renegotiate part of all of them, at the same time.

So although it seems that May has got her way domestically, in the wider word there are just more problems, bigger problems, problems that require decisions to be made.

Meanwhile, Eurotunnel pointed out that they could not make any preparations for Brexit until they knew what form Brexit was going to take; how can we prepare for the unknown? And also pointed out that there was no room for additional infrastructure at the terminal in Folkestone, nor at Dover Eastern Docks, so there has to be some other solution, if one is needed.

Monday 25th June 2018

There will be no Brexit blog today.

Unless something very important or sill happens.

Monday, and back at work already. Is it me or are weekends getting shorter and shorter?

The usual stuff; coffee, cats,internet checking, and outside summer continues, after the many days last week we had of cloud and cool breezes, now we have days of unbroken sunshine.

Glorious. Or would be, if I didn't have to work.

And work it most certainly is, as I have a meeting with my boss telling me that after my annual assessment, I should be lucky just to work here, there will be no raise!

Oh well.

There's always work.

Outside starlings swarm on the food put out for the other birds. Yes, I know they're birds so are allowed to eat bird seed, but do they need to be so noisy about it?

I plough on with work, trying not to be fed up and frustrated. But, you know.

In fact I had a fine chat with my boss, he told me I was fantastic, or that's what I heard, but due to budget constraints and blah, blah, blah. You know. But we think you're great.

And outside the sun keeps beating down. And I keep hammering at the keyboard.

Lunch comes and goes, and at three I go to work from the sofa, so I can keep an eye on the Russia game, but switching the TV on I fnd Uruguay already 2-0 up against hosts, Russia. It ends 3-0, and Russia only had ten players. A warning, then, that no matter how good your start is, there's always a bigger and better team waiting. England take note.

I water the garden in between games, as we have had no rain for week. We have also emptied the water butts. But the sun is doing wonders for the flowers. As is the watering.

We have insalata for dinner, with wine. Very civilised, before I settle down for the Iran portugal game. And very much better than it should have been, with Portugal 1-0 up, Ronaldo missed a penalty, could have been sent off and a late Iran equaliser. And Iran could have snatched it at the death. But hit the side netting instead.

Oh well.

Spain and Portugal go through.

And we go to bed, as getting up eary in the morning.

Sunday 24th June 2018

The orchid season and the World Cup means having to make some serious choices on how to spend my (our) time, in that at lunchtime on Sunday, England were due to play the might of Panama, and I wanted to watch that. But then there are the Pyramidals along the clifftops between St Margaret's and Kingsdown that I spotted last year walking with Tony. (yes, you get in the blog more now than wen you were here!).

So the answer to this conundrum was to be out of the house and at Dover Patrol soon after the first cup of coffee and before breakfast.

I'm sure you are impressed.

And with the weather being hot and still, would be perfect for any macro work I might want to do.

We park at the monument, and go to the bench near the cliff edge, me inspecting the area around for orchid spikes. We find a few, but no worry, we will see hundreds between here and Kingsdown.

I was also looking for Marbled White butterflies, and we do see a couple, but even at this fairly early point in the morning, they were flighty and I only get a decent shot from distance of one with its wings open.

Away in the distance there is a smudge of red showing where a field of poppies might be coming into flower, so it is there we make our way to, without having to say it.

The clifftop is full of wildflowers, most common, but some rarer ones, including lots of Broomrape, a parasitic plant we see lots of at Sandwich Bay. Here it is probably feeding off ground ivy, I guess, but that is just a guess.

The field of poppies turns out to be a field being left fallow for the year, but the upper part of it was thick with poppies. So we walk to the lower path, then besde the golf course where the sound of golf buggies blocks out the call of skylarks.

The field is impressive, although not as it it had been planted on purpose, this is just seeds taking their opportunity and growing where they can. As we walk along the top of the field, we get the best views, goubly so looking back into the sun. We both take lots of shots.

We take as many shots as we need. And then some, and then walk back to rejoin the path over the downs just before butterfly alley, and we remark it had been some years since we had been this way, certainly at the height of butterfly season. Although the number of flowers growing beside the farm track is well down, and just a couple of Meadow Browns are on the wing.

We walk on, back up the path leading back to the Monument and our waiting car.

Back home we make more coffee and warm up croissants, and we can look through the shots we had taken.

Midday was rapidly approaching, so I begin to prepare lunch, steak and chips, so we can all be eaten and cleared up by kick off time at one.

Steak is never bad, not when I cook it, and at lunchtime when we were so hungry it was welcome. We also share a bottle of pink fizz, of course, and again toast our very good health.

We are done by kick off time, and England surge into an early lead, get a penalty, get a third. Then a forth, another penalty. So 5-0 up at half time, Kane getting a hat trick. The second half ends 1-1, with England winning the game 6-1 and a nation was stunned. Although not perfect, it is something that I, as regular readers of these words will know, not being disappointed at football is a new feeling for me.

With the remainder of the afternoon, we sit in the garden and eat redcurrents (from our garden), raspberries and strawberries with cream and a fine coffee.

At five as the second game of the day kicked off, we drove to Whitfield to drop of Jools and pick up John, then settle down for an evening of cards and banter.

No thought was given, by me, to football. Mid-way through the evening, Jen cooked pizza slices and I sip glaces of red wine. Jools and I lose heavily, and have to borrow money from Jen and John. But it was all fun.

We finish at half nine with John scooping the three pots. All done.

Nothing left than to go home, dropping JOhn on the way, under the gaze of the three-quarter waxing moon, so yellow and so bright.

A perfect evening, but back home in time to go to bed for another week at the coal face.

Monday Brexit.

Another short Brexit post, as the month peters out and nothing of any substance has occurred.

There is no end or solution to the NI/Irish border problem, and a FOI request has shown that the body responsible for transport policy in NI has made NO preparations for a no deal Brexit.

Make no mistake, the queues and delays on both sides of the border will be every bit as disastrous as those in Kent for the Channel crossing. That the FOI request was no rejected because of security reasons, or cost, just that it does not exist seems to suggest that the Government is taking May's word that there will be no infrastructure on the border.

This makes the Government's threat to walk out of negotiations with the EU as laughable, as when the side threatening has done no preparations to make that "work", then it is an empty gesture, like the EU knew it would anyway. But wha does this mean: will the UK accept any deal at the end of March just to keep trade working and the GFA in place? Or are they really that clueless?

Well a Government that has May as PM, Grayling as Transport Minister, Gove in charge of Agriculture and the environment, DD in charge of Brexit, Leadsom in charge of getting bills through the house and Liam Fox is charge of getting trade deals done, clearly cannot be taken seriously.

And isn't.

As industry ramps up pressure demanding clarity, the Conservative Party tries to paint industry leaders as in the pay of the EU. That many hundreds of thousands of works rely on jobs with companies that do trade with the EU, you would have thought that the Government would listen to industry who, obviously, do know what they're talking about.

Meanwhile, Bloomberg ran a story today about how some of Brexit billionaire backers made hundreds of millions in profits, betting against the UK and the £ exchange rate in the aftermath of the referendum, and were helped in this by Farage conceding the result, to lull the markets. That Farage and co rail against the elite, without a hint of irony, if a friend of Nigel's can pocket £220 million in an hour hedging against his own country, then who is the elite here?

The clock is still ticking, Brexit in 9 months and the ratification process, if any, begins in three.

And some breaking Brexit news just in:

BMW said this evening that “if at the end of the day the supply chain will have a stop at the border, then we cannot produce our products in the UK."

And what goes for BMW goes for Honda and Nissan too. Still, told y'all so.

Saturday 23rd June 2018

Welcome to the weekend.

A day full of stuff, and not just Tesco!

After coffee, we go to Tesco, arriving at the shop at dead on eight, but it seems that the shop had given the two people who are trained to use the scanner software had both been given the week off. But one kind hearted assistant decided to do two people's jobs, and opened the scanners for those of us waiting to start shopping.

We zip round the shop, getting our groceries for the week.

I had some leftover boiled Jersey Royals left over from the previous night's dinner, so the decision was to have a fry up, so sausages and bacon lardons were bought to go with the spuds. So back home we put the shopping away and I cook breakfast, a huge feast for early morning. To top it off, I fry two slices of bread and cook scrambled eggs for Jools and a fried egg for me.

It was delicious, but too heavy really. But we have no time to leave, as Jools was going to go with Jen to Bluewater to have her eyes checked as she had lens replacement surgery this week. I had to drop Jools off, and then I could have the car for the rest of the morning, and into the afternoon. The only problem was to decide what to do. And even the weather was playing ball, as the sun shone down from a clear blue sky.

My first port of call was at the council offices to check on the "half flavescens" Bee. I parked up and straight away I saw that where the spike should have been, there was none, and the poles marking it was also missing. It is odd then that all the other Bee spikes were still there and flowering, and this was gone. The only oddity. Might have been rabbits or slugs. In which case they have refined tastes.

I then drove to Barham as I had seen a field of poppies starting to turn red a week or so ago, but after turning off the A2 and driving down into the valley, driving back up hoping to see the scarlet field, I saw none. No poppies.

Another strike out.

Over the other side of the main road to look at the Birdsneasts, as I had seen some shots of another Kentish site healthy with hundreds of spikes, so was hoping there had been a late spurt her too. But walking into the wood I saw no new spikes, and just one old spike having gone to seed. Orchids come and go at a site, for no reason, really, and that might be the case here. But seeing the var. chloriantha White Helleborine also missing, and the normal one that grew beside it, also gone, was disheartening. Other large spikes of White Helleborine had gone too seed and looked in rude health.

I made my way to Ramsgate, taking the road through Nonington and Kingston, hoping to see fields of poppies, but saw none. Huey was blasting out on the car radio, and life, was pretty darn good.

I park up beside the viking ship, take the steps down onto the concrete and begin to look for the remainder of the Bees.

Here too, the orchids were a disappointment from previous years. Where I had found hundreds in previous years, there had only been a slight improvement on the 30 or so spikes seen last year, and with the several weeks of dry weather baking the poor soil here, what orchid there had been were long gone over.

But the colony of Southern Marsh under a small copse were thriving, the five or som spikes from 5 years ago now number over 30, and all were still in flower. Miles from the nearest fresh water marsh though.

And under a bush near to the apron edge I find five Bee spikes, two still in flower, clinging on at the tail end of their season.

Elsewhere I see butterflies, Marbled Whites, Small Skippers and Meadow Browns, along with other plants like Purple Toadflax, various sorts of plants that look like dandelions, but aren't.

It is two years since we went to East Blean to snap the Heath Fritillaries, but I thought I had time to zip over the Herne Bay and take the road back down towards Canterbury.

The Fritillary is a nationally rare butterfly, also called the woodsman's friend as it thrives in coppiced areas, so careful management of the wood there has seen numbers soar.

In half an hour I am pulling into the small car park, wondering how long I would have to spend looking for them. But as I get my camera out of the boot, I see a butterfly emerge from the wheel arch of a Ford Transit, then climb up the door before stopping on the glass to bask. A Heath Fritillary.

Not going to be hard then. In fact, looking round the car park, I could see a half dozen on the wing.

Stunning.

Another photographer gets out of his car, so I say there's one on the van door. What, a White Admiral?

I had forgotten about those.

The White Admiral is a relative of the Red, but rarer, and lives in woods, gliding around looking for food. We join up and go to look for them.

Within two minutes, Robert had fond one, calling me over. I get a few shots, but it soon flies off. I don't panic as I know there are creatures of habit and will return.

So I get my camera with the big lens, and go on patrol.

I soon find the White Admiral again, so a firing off frequent series of shots, hoping some will be good.

After half an hour, I had taken hundreds of shots of the Admiral and Fritillaries. I was done, and it was half twelve, and I had the only house key with me, Jools might not be able to get inside if she was back from Bluewater.

I decide to go back via Jen's, taking the back road way through Stourmouth, Preston to Sandwich then on the main road to Whitfield. Jen was home, and Jools was nowhere to be seen. She went home to yours, she said.

I go home, and find her working in the garden. Nothing to worry about it. So, I open the back door and make pints of iced squash for us both, we sit on the patio gulping the cool drink down as we tell each other what we did during the morning.

I spend the afternoon reviewing my shots, and keeping an eye on the Belgium game, as they are in our group. They romp to a 5-2 win, and then Mexico are playing, followed by Germany against Sweden, where a German loss or draw could have meant them going home.

As it turned out, Mexico eased to a 2-0 win, then German were up, and struggled, trailing 1-0 at half time. But a goal in the first 2 minutes of the 2nd half, and a short free kick and blast in the 6th minute of injury time seems to German win, and very much in the competition, seconds after it seemed they were on the plane home.

A great evening of football, for those of us who like football.

Fundamental Brexit news

In pretty much the same way as fundamental religious types crow when science proves a tiny fraction of thir Holy book's words, ignoring the fact science says the other 99.7% can't have happened, but cling to this as proof of the truth in the word of God. Then a tiny fraction of positive news, even if it is from Economists for Brexit, or Brexit believing business types like the bloke who owns Wetherspoons of Mr Dyson, then this must be heralded as "wonderful news".

Or when DD says that Brexit will be wonderful, just because he says so, this has to be repeated in banner headlines by the Express. Despite there being zero evidence in this, just his assertion.

It emerged yesterday that the Foreign Secretary, when asked what about business in the event of a no deal or hard Brexit, replied "Fuck Business". So there you have it, from the party of business to the party of fuck business in two years.

Well done you.

And yesterday, hundreds of thousands marched through London demanding a second vote on Brexit. Although I admire them and stand with them, I know it is pointless, for a number of reasons:

1. There not enough time to get the primary and secondary legislation through Westminster before 29th March.
2. The Government would decide on the question(s) to be asked
3. Referendum got us in this mess in the first place
4. There is no guarantee that remain would win.
5. Then what?

In order for Parliament to assert its authority, it has to assert its authority. Which it failed to do this week. Meaning we are a step closer to a no deal Brexit. Or a hard Brexit than before, even if it states in the Withdrawal Bill that a no deal Brexit is not going to happen.

Confused?

You will be, and more so tomorrow.

Friday 22nd June 2018

We used to ave an expression in the Air Force, that on Friday afternoon, a volunteer or pressed man would act as "trade cover" for all armanent issues so the other lads could go home early and either start drinking or take to the highways and byways of Merrie England to see their friends and families.

So the trade cover, duty armourer and duty NCO would wait in the ESA offices until five, when we could be certain that no aircraft had crashed, and no Foreign Secretary had declared war, and would could all go home.

And always. Always, on Friday afternoon, once the three of us would be having our thirteenth coffee of the afternoon the phone would rig, and all hell would break loose.

Don't believe me?

Once, a USAF convoy of nuclear missiles had been involved in a road accident in Kings Lynn, the police asked us what should they do.

Another time, as a result of a pyramid or Ponzi scheme going belly up and the country descending into chaos, the RAF had to evacuate all UK citizens from Albania, could I withdraw 75 9mm pistols from the armoury?

Or the time the station tannoy announced an emergency state 3 (aircraft down), and the duty NCO said to me, if that was the case there'd be a huge plume of smoke. We go outside the piquet post and see, a large plume of black smoke.

Oh dear.

Anyway, the point of this is that Friday afternoon, when the boss has gone home for the weekend, is when the shit hits the fan. And still does.

It is, at least Friday, and once we get to five, we can forget about work for two whole day. That is if our brain lets us.

It is a glorious day, but then the World Cup is on, so I try to balance things out in going out when I can, but then being a hostage to the beautiful game. Saying that, Friday night's games were not too tempting, so sci fi and Monty were planned.

Our garden is filling out well, so full of colour and the fruit hidden away in deep foliage, is ripening. All good stuff.

The cats are spending almost the whole day out, because of the heat, so leaving me with the house to myself, and actually able to concentrate, which is nice.

Jools comes back at four, now with a heart monitor strapped to her, as a result of her mini-stroke diagnosis from a month or so back. But she seems fine, and is just to untick some boxes.

We have salad, southern fried chicken, which is not covered with a special blend of twelve herbs and spices; not a three quid for four anyway. Which means once we have eaten and tidied up, we could retire to the sofa for the evening for two episodes of The Expanse, sandwiching The Don.

Perfect.

Now the weekends.

A, B, U of Brexit

On Thursday, Airbus announced due to Brexit it was considering cutting not only investment in Britain, but moving all production to Europe.

On Friday, BMW, who own Mini, said they were also considering their options.

And last night, Unipart said that any UK car makers would probably go under as a result of no deal Brexit.

How did this effect the gammons?

Not well. One prime piece of meat said of Airbus, it could be nationalised and then we could make the whole plane their. Forgetting that the plane needs a body, avionics, electronics, undercarriage, tail, seats, type test certificate, a workforce capable of building it. And ten to twenty years to get it all prepared to start production. Not eight months....

Almost like they don't know what they're talking about. Still.

And today, 100,000 people are marching in London demanding a second vote, but no time to pass primary and secondary legislation needed for that to happen, and the Government would decide on the question.

And a referendum is why we're here anyway. Maybe Parliament should look at the advisory vote and decide, like the cabinet shows, no one knows still what Brexit is and the whole thing should be forgotten.

But that hasn't stopped Boris writing in the Sun that Brexit mustn't be like toilet paper, soft and never ending. In this analogy, he is the turd, obviously. So there's the Home Secretary embarking on his own Brexit policy. Again. Will May sack hom? no.

And DD promising that everything will be wonderful after Brexit. This got banner headlines in the Express, despite there being no proof or evidence for this, and that DD has been wrong about everything for the last two years.

And as a reminder, the NI-Irish border needs to be sorted out this week, to the satisfaction of Ireland, the DUP, Parliament, the EU, EU Parliament, UCJ laws, and actually be technically possible in the next decade.

#projectreality

It has been funny, no, hilarious, to hear various Brexiteers trying to say that Airbus' decision to possibly pull out of UK in the event of a bad deal or no deal Brexit.

The Brexiteers have blamed everyone, mostly the EU in bribing Airbus to manufacture in the UK. One particularly stupid Brexiteer suggested nationalising the Airbus factory, thus missing the point that it doesn't matter who owns the factory, its the supply chains that will break with Brexit.

May was asked in a poorly performed interview that when all the negative news and predictions regarding Brexit, why doesn't she want to change course? Because the people voted for it, was her reply. After the lies, deception, overspending, and rubbishing anything anti-Brexit news as #projectfear, when the truth is, Brexit is panning out pretty much as was predicted by those who knew what they were talking about.

The chief Brexiteer and coward, Nigel Farage, claimed that a poorly undertaken Brexit would be worse than no Brexit: I don't remember seeing that written on the side of a bus.

One last thing, manufacturing is over 10% of the UK economy, Airbus generates £1.3 billion in tax revenues, or 20% of the annual bill for being in the EU. As for the area of North Wales, where the main wing factory is, that facility accounts for 40% of the local economy; how will that effect the area, which suffered badly when pits and factories were closed during the Thatcher years.

All this coming just two days after the HoC vote, something industry was hoping would inject some reality into Parliament. As that didn't happen, plan Bs were and are further being put into action.

Expect lots more bad news in the coming months.

Thursday 21st June 2018

Midsummer.

And another day in which very little happened, other than the days got as long as they can get, and from now on its downhill until the end of December.

Work continues apace, with the tasks each day, the same.

I wish I could sound more positive about it, but sometimes the repetitiveness of it grinds you down.

As ever, there is a feast of football in the afternoon and evening, and plans are made which games to watch and to make sure the wall chart is filled in.

Jools leaves for work, I put the bins out and then make myself breakfast, ready for the first meeting of the day at eight.

Outside the sun shines, and looks tempting, I wish I could go out and enjoy it, but work is a hard taskmaster. Lunchtime comes at half ten, when it is in Denmark. It seems fair that I take my break when my colleagues do.

Denmark played at one in the afternoon, and oddly work went quiet I guess as people either went home early, or just stopped to watch. I watch the second half from the sofa with the laptop on my, er, lap, getting work done when the game fails to distract. Denmark were most disappointing to be honest.

I take the car back to the Eastern docks at half five, so Jools can collect me on her way home. In truth it hadn't moved since I came back on Tuesday night, so could have taken it back before, but we didn't, kidding myself I might go out in the late afternoon. But there was football.

I wait all of two minutes outside the terminal before Jools swings by, whisking us home at the end of a fine and sunny afternoon.

I cook more aubergine for dinner, served with yet more from the endless supply of pasta salad, all washed up and put away so I can watch Argentina play Croatia, in what should have been a straightforward game for Messi and co. Only it wasn't, Argentina played badly, sloppy at the back in the first half, giving a joke of a goal away early in the second. After which they really went to pieces, losing 3-0 and now needing a win in their last game and hoping the other result goes their way.

Still, got to laugh, especially when the camera pans the crowd to reveal and angry as hell Maradona.

Brexit reality

Through the referendum campaign and since the result, any suggestions by economists or journalists that companies might leave the UK as a result of Brexit or its various flavours of eventual end games, were met with calls of "project fear", indeed any negative story was project fear, with the Brexiteers talking of cake and eating it, sunlit uplands, the easiest deal in history and nothing but win/wins.

The reality has been somewhat different.

Of course there wasn't a sudden cliff face, ut a trickle of jobs leaving for the EU27, so slow you could almost pretend it isn't happening. But Jaguar Land Rover enacting their back up plan to make the new Crosslander in the EU rather than in the UK was a worrying event. Doubly so if you work for them or for a company in their supply chain.

Today Airbus stated it would have to look at UK investments and leave the UK in the event of a no deal. Te thousand highly paid manufacturing jobs at risk there.

Meanwhile job centres have been telling those looking for work, picking fruit is more fun that you would think.

Interest rates are going to rise in the next month, putting more pressure on those of us with mortgages, meaning keeping our jobs will be all the more important.

Wednesday 20th June 2018

Somehow we have reached the third week of June, the year is racing ahead of us, and tomorrow is midsummer. Where does the time go?

Indeed.

It is a usual working day here at Chez Jelltex. We get up at half five, feed the cats and make breakfast, and after a night of poor sleep thanks to my dozens of various insect bites, it is soon time to start work.

There are fires to put out, urgent mails to reply to, calls to receive.

The morning passes. Outside the sun shines down, and the garden is further brightened by more flowers that have emerged, including dozens of tiny Selfheal in the lawn, or what was once our lawn. Many more than last year. I take their picture because. Because? Its there

The cats mostly stay outside in the summer, coming in only to check on their food bowl occasionally and to bring me dead gifts. Better than live ones in most cases, as chasing a mouse of bird around the house is funny, I rarely get it before they find refuge under some furniture or the waiting jaws of another watching cat.

And there is football.

Always football. I take the laptop to the sofa to watch the second half of the Portugal v Morocco game early in the afternoon, taking calls and assembling spreadsheets.

The afternoon fades with that game ending, so I water some of the garden, then prepare dinner; pasta salad and aubergine. A fine summer feast, and another one I can thank the first Mrs Jelltex for. Precious little else to thank her for, mind.

Before the football in the evening, I put the Solarcan up in the back garden. A friend of mine has created a camera that takes a 6 month exposure of the changes in the movement of the sun across the sky. So come midwinter I will take it down and see the results. ANd that will be another shot of the day sorted!

And then there was Spain v Iran in the evening, I am pooped and barely stay awake for the game, and as soon as the final whistle goes, I switch the TV off and we go to bed. I pray for a long night's sleep.

Tuesday 19th June 2018

It was said by my dead old Dad many years ago, that flies only feed on rotten meat. This was as Mum and myself were always bitten to buggery by various insects during our holidays in Wales and Scotland. Mosquitoes, gnats, flies, bees, wasps and other such flying, buzzing wee beasties would come and feast, mainly on our sweet East Anglian blood.

Last year in Scotland, the infamous Scottish midges covered me in bits as I stood on a hill in Glenfinnan, and earlier this year, Danish midges, mozzies and flies ate lots of me whilst I stood on a wooded hillside.

All this went through my mind as I packed on Monday, and I searched the house for Jungle Formula. I found none, but thought to myself, maybe it wouldn't be as bad as that.

I was wrong. It was Denmark all over again.

But before we get to that point, I had to get to the site. Oh yes, the site. I can't mention it by name, but a simple online search of the locations were the little orchids grow will quickly turn it, and other up. But anyway, I promised not to mention it, so, I won't. But so as you know.

The site was north of Great yarmouth, and getting from Mum's to there meant going through Great Yarmouth and dealing with its dreadful traffic jams. Like Lowestoft it has just two bridges over the river, and traffic quickly builds up as rush hour proceeds, so after getting up at half six, I say I'm going to leave straight away, with no breakfast in order to get through the town with no delays.

In fact I was relieved to go, I repeated how I felt, and Mum was still shocked. But, there is no time now for messing around, life is what it is, and I am what I am. And need no excuses.

No traffic in Yarmouth, and most of the traffic on the Acle straight was heading into town, but even driving away there was a solid line of cars, even if we were driving at 50 mph. Once at Acle I only had 15 minutes to go, so I stop at a garage, get breakfast, a snack and a litre of iced coffee, then go on until I find a place to park on the side of the road.

It was seven, and I had two and a half hours to kill.

I eat, drink, and listen to the radio and watch the traffic go by.

I sit there watching the rain clouds roll in, then drop ever-increasing amounts of rain on the car. Not what was forecast at all.

At quarter to nine I drive the last few miles to the meeting point, which was down a long dead end lane and then park in a farmyard. Rain continued to fall, and the light was awful. Oh dear, and was I in the right place?

When a second car arrived, I knew I was. The driver asked, are you here for the orchids? Yes I was.

As a third car arrived, a bloke came out from one of the barns and shook our hands, welcome, he said. Would you like a brew? We would.

So we go into the warehouse, all full of dangerous looking knives and machetes, and all the other stuff needed to keep the reserve open and accessible for the people who work there. We have a brew, chat and once the final guy turned up on his bike, we put wellies on and set off out into the rain and the countryside.

We walked over farmland, past casually interested highland cattle, through a gate and onto the fen.

I know now, that fen is alkali and a bog, acidic. Who knew?

The fen is a mat of plants and centuries of compressed dead vegetation floating on fresh water, the mat is several feet thick, and so when you walk over it, it bounces. No firm ground here, just bouncing, and when you stood still, water seeped up. Water was still falling from the clouds too. But there was brightness, and hope.

And there was insects. We stopped to put on repellant, but little did I know that the buggers were already biting through my t short on my back, and only later would I discover the dozens of bites when they started to itch.

As we walked, our guide pointed out so many different rare wild plants and flowers, but soon we came to the object of us being there; the Fen Orchid. It is a small, green plant that you can very easily miss, as it grows among taller vegetation, and is green. The background vegetation is also green. Get the picture?

We search for more, and indeed find many more spikes, some bigger than others, and easier to find and photograph.

The rain had stopped, so we began to enjoy the yomp across the fen; fus us orchidists, there were Early Marsh and Southern Marsh orchids everywhere, and hybrids of the two, of course, as well as ever more exotic and rare plants, flowers and grasses. I took many pictures and our guide sent us a list of what we saw, but I have to marry the two!

With three metres to go before we left the fen, I discovered one of the "holes", gaps between the tussocks and sank knee deep in mud. I was stuck, but the guide came, told me to pull my foot out and he yanked on the boot to free it, allowing me to put it back on and get to dry land!

We see two Marsh Harriers, flying low over the fen looking for food. A cuckoo flies past, calling all the while, even perching in a nearby tree, but conditions not good enough to get a shot. One of te other snappers is a twitcher, so keeps us all updated with the calls of birds we hear, one of which he assured us was a Grasshopper Warbler.

All interesting stuff.

We walked over the short stretch of farmland, disturbing a barn owl from its nest in an outbuilding, we stood and watched as it lazily flew away over the fields to the woods in the distance. It had not made a sound.

We go over a floating walkway to see some really rare stuff, tiny plants that eek out a living in the clear, clean water below the fen. Fur us as we walked off the walkway was the danger that the tussocks were the only safe places, so we have to walk from one to the other.

Finally, we walk back onto dry land again, walking gown a lane between two ditches, and in the hedgerow, we could see the unmistakable shape of a swallowtail butterfly. As we walk towards it and angle to get shots, it flies away. We saw just one others, flying high over the trees well out of reach of the camera.

It was quarter to one, and we were back at the barn, so we change out of the boots, bid the guide goodbye, and go back to our cars, so I plan the drive to the next location; Strumpshaw Fen, a public nature reserve, which should mean I see a Swallowtail.

It was half an hour's drive through Brundall to the reserve, and find a place to park on the side of the road, go to the reception, pay my entrance fee, and ask; been any Swallowtails? Not for a couple of hours, I was told. No surprise really as the weather was still dull and grey, a keen breeze was blowing again, and children were being herded to cross back over the railway to a waiting bus. Twitchers and butterfly chases said silent thanks as peace descended onto the reserve again.

I got talking to a bloke, and he took me to the meadow, and said stay here to see the Swallowtails. So I did, and saw none in two hours.

I did see hundreds more march orchids, along with Norfolk Hawkers and Four Spotted Chasers, which I tried to snap as they flew.

I did manage a half decent shot of the Hawker in flight, then one landed near me, allowing me to use the big boy lens to snap it.

I had been up on my feet for nearly eight hours, there was no sign of the Swallowtail, and the light wasn't improving. I decide to leave.

I hear the sound of an approaching train, line up the camera and was rewarded with the DRS short set hammering past towards Great yarmouth or Lowestoft. A bonus.

I had arranged to visit a friend nearby, so I program the sat nav, then follow the instructions along narrow lanes to the A47.

Peter lives in an old cottage beside a mill, beside a mill race. Its a lovely spot.

I am early so sit on the bank and watch a dozen or so Banded Demoiselleflies perching in branches, or fluttering just above the water surface. Are you OK? What are you looking at, I was asked by a dogwalker. I explained and she seemed to be happy with my answer.

I go to Peter's house and they ply me with good strong tea and shortbread, and we talk about things We have many shared interests to be honest, and it was a shame I had to leave 90 minutes later, as I had to drive home.

I know the way home now. I put the radio on and drive back to the bypass, then down to the top of the Ipswich road, taking that south, but even after the end of the rush hour, it was slow going, it seemed to take an age to get to Diss, where there is a small section of dual carriageway, but then a short blast down to the A14 to Ipswich, and then south down our old friend, the A12.

It was a golden evening, of course. As soon as I left Norfolk the clouds cleared and would be perfect for butterflies, but no time now. I just wanted to get home.

At least leaving later was that the traffic at Dartford was light, which is why I did it, to be honest, over the bridge and into Kent. From there just down to the top of the M20 and south home. Seven and eight o'clcok passed, and at nearly half eight, I get home. Time enough for a brew, a chat with Jools and a review of my shots and it was time for bed.

Again, I was shattered, but had done so much, upset MUm for sure, but ten life isn't perfect.

The story of the rebel leader.

Yesterday was the day of the repeat of the meaningful vote, vote. What seemed like it was going to be a defining moment for May and Brexit, turned out to be something of a triumph for her, as 12 of the rebels, including Dominic Grieve failed to rebel, after there was another last minute fudge on the wording of a Ministerial Statement.

I have no idea what this means, who has won, who lost, or when push comes to shove, whether Brexit will be stopped or not.

But the HoC had the chance to assert it's authority over the executive, and bottled it. Again.

It is possible that it will come down to a matter of Constitutional Law when come next February whether Parliament can or will instruct the Government to change course, policy. Or not.

The one thing I take from this, almost all the Government's energy has been spent for the last three weeks or so, on internal strife, negotiating with it's own back benchers, understanding their position and trying to move heaven and earth to accommodate those concerns to allow legislation to be passed. Had May and co spent as much effort and resources in understanding and accommodating the EU's concerns, then Brexit would be a lot less traumatic, and maybe things would look less bleak.

The Europhiles have capitulated at every turn, and the Brexiteers have not. So, extrapolating this forward, the Brexiteers will puch for a chaotic Brexit, leaving the EU with no formal agreement on trade, borders, rights, tax, fissile material, aviation, transport, cross-border crime coordination, and so on, relying on good will, or just muddling through.

The other alternative, is that in February, if there is no deal forthcoming, Parliament could pass a no confidence vote in May and bring down the Government, six weeks before Brexit.

If this thought isn't daft enough, it fails to take into account that when it came down to standing up for democracy, the Europhiles and rebels just folded. So they probably wouldn't vote against the Government either.

And all the while, Government has not been thinking about the NI-Irish border, trade, customs, tax and the rest of stuff that needs to be sorted, and if that were not bad enough, Parliament is about to go into recess, then into Conference season, meaning very little will be able to be discussed until october.

Monday 18th June 2018

Back in the cold dark days of winter, I booked an expensive trip to see some very rare orchids (they always are) in Norfolk. Not thinking of the day of the week or anything, just a new species to see.

So, as the months crawled by, the date got nearer until last week I realised I had not really done any planning at all. Which was OK, I could stay at Mum's, but then I think you'll realise this would be the first time I had been back to hers since December, before Christmas, and a chance to see how life is panning out for her. Then came the opportunity to have a meeting with her occupational therapist, which meant leaving at lunchtime on Monday to be at hers at 18:00 to be there on time.

Before the there was time for 6 hours work, sorting through e mails, answering calls and making yet another spreadsheet. And then there was a problem with the car hire in that I could not pick up the car before two in the afternoon.

Anyway, Jools gets ready for work, and as we sip our coffee, we try to work out where the weened went.

She leaves me with the cats, preparing breakfast, then starting work before half seven, peeking into my mails for the grenades that had arrived over the weekend.

I plough on, have meetings and am at the bottom of my "to do" list when I realised it was time to arrange the taxo to take me to the port, back my bags and set for north, as you could not be sure of the traffic.

The taxi driver arrives at half twelve, I was hoping the car hire folks would let me take the car early, meaning I could get on the road. It was a fine sunny afternoon, driving along the deal road and me pointing out to the driver the wild flowers he should be noticing. In fact, he said he loves the town and area, like me, and that with history (he was one of those urban explorer types) so much to see under our noses.

He drops me off at the terminal, and after some worrying oohs and ahhs, i was told the car was ready, and after the paperwork was printed out, I could take my bags to the car , load up, and after finding 6 Music on the radio, drive up the A20 to the motorway.

I have a Vauxhall crossover thing; 5 gears, but powerful enough, but it has a radio that I can pick up DAB on, so I am happy enough, and more than quiet enough to enjoy the music in the fairly light traffic as I cruise north through Kent to Dartford.

And through the tunnel, into Essex, along the motorway to the bottom of the M11, thence north through the gentle rolling hills that mark south Essex, to Saffron Walden and north to Newmarket.

I felt I was against the clock, but it became clear that as I reached Bury St Edmunds at three, that traffic had been on my side, and I had time to use as I saw fit.

It won't be hard to believe then that I had orchids on my mind.

I drive up to Diss, then to Harleston, taking the road back into Suffolk, to Metfield, cruising along sunlit winding lanes, through the village and out the other side until I come to the dead end lane.

Parking up I grab the camera, walk through the memorial wood, enter the meadow through the new stile, very welcome not to have to climb over the gate, and into the meadow.

I was here to look for Frog Orchids, and having seen them three years in a row, I went to where I hoped to find them, and began looking. And looked.

I walked up and down the path, until I was at the point I was going to give up when I saw the spike next to my foot, growing in the path.

I take shots of that, then see another in long grass on one side. Then another on the other side.

And on the main path, I find the largest spike I have seen of a Frog.

I take shots of that too.

I walk round the outside of the meadow, but fail to find a single Southern Marsh at all, and there was a reduction in numbers of Pyramidal, although I did find a pure var. alba hidden in the long grass.

As I neared Mum's, a short diversion took me to a traffic island just off the main road, where I had been told of a rare Bee Orchid, a pales, more unusual one than the colony seen in Sussex last week.

I find a place to park off the road, then walk to the island, passing lines of cars waiting to turn. I was an item of interest with me having a long lens attached to my camera. I dodge between the cars, onto the island and look for a flattened area, and sure enough on the south side, there it was. Or I saw the flattened grass at first, but at the middle was a small green and white spike, glistening in the sunshine.

I take several, OK, many shots then walk back to the car for the last part of the drive, over the marshes to Oulton Broad and the shitstorm that I knew was coming.

In fact, Mum has kept her house tidy. Or rather Sheila has. There is no crap building up, and the house no longer smells of stale tobacco. All good stuff, but Mum still sits in her dressing gown; she only dresses once a week when she goes into town with Janet opposite.

Her therapist and I talk with her and try to get Mum to do more. But she is adamant she is doing enough. And there really isn't anyone can do to force her to change. That I was so angry with her it really surprised me.

Mum is happy watching TV from her chair 16 hours a day, getting up only to go to the bathroom, all else is done by other people; even having a shower is done by a carer.

So, despite her having the heart surgery and the opportunities it could give her to do more, she has decided to do less. And with Dad and Jools' Dad's death from the same thing, and not having a second chance, let alone a third, Mum is going to slowly waste away some more until the end.

And that is her decision to be honest, but it doesn't mean I have to agree, so told Mum that I would not be going up any more, as there was no point, and said she may as well have died last September as she had not taken the chances life had given her.

But I walk to the bins, she said. And to the end of the road! How many times? Several she says.

So, there you have it, I vent at her, but don't vary my response, even when Mum tires time after time to change the subject, or has that "little girl lost" look on her face and you know she is thinking how many seconds can go by before I can change the subject......

We watch England play, or I do, and mum tries to make small talk. We do have some discussions, but there really can be cordial talk if we ignore the elephants in the room Mum even said I should just drop the subject at one point.

England win 2-1, and play OK, but ran out of puff in the second half, and only score the winner in injury time. Still, three points, and Kane scored both goals.

As soon as the game finishes, I go to bed, and lay in bed as Mum watches a recording of Celebrity Dog Rescue. Or something.