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.