Tuesday 12th June 2018

Tuesday.

Market day in Kings Lynn.

Of course.

The day began cold and breezy, again. Jools was back at work, and I had a pile of work to do all day.

I logged on and found i had to complete a spreadsheet stating what I was doing and where, every day in 2016. Just as well that I keep an accurate calendar in Outlook. But that was the morning gone.

I go round to close the windows of the house, even put a coat on, and I'm still cold. This is flaming June, apparently.

I complete the task and send it off just before lunch, then have the day to deal with the morning's and previous day's mails, ensuring that no matter how hard I try, I never get ahead.

This is the modern world.

Late in the afternoon, I have to wrap up early as I have to go to the doctor's to collect my meds. I decide, therefore to go the indirect route, so I can look for flowers and butterflies.

I leave at half three, walking out over the fields using the path that a few weeks ago was several feet wide, but due to amazing growth of the undergrowth and flowers, is now barely wide enough for this Jelltex to walk through. But I got through.

At the copse there is a fresh intake of piglets, who sweal their delight at seeing me, in the hope that I might have some food. Sadly, for them, I don't.

So I leave them behind, walk down the Dip, weaving a path through the mud at the bottom, and then hauling myself up the steep slope the other side. I stop to snap flowers, plants and butterflies, one a fine Holly Blue, though the breeze was making macro hard to do.

I walk back along Kingsdown Road into the village, then through a couple of newly discovered footpaths which take me back to almost the same place I started from!

I reach the surgery, but find that assurances last month that my prescription was all sorted and all I had to do was turn up and all would be ready. Was incorrect. They did not have my pills after all. So I have to leave empty handed, with just the receptionist's apologies.

At the village pond, the ducklings from a month ago look nearly fully grown, but their number had been more than halved from 17 to just eight survivors.

I walk past the old Red Lion, now nearly just a house as work continues apace, then down Station Road to home. I get back at half five, late enough for the cats to be most upset that dinner is half an hour late.

I feed them, then prepare dinner; some coated chicken and lentil dahl, which is cooked and ready to eat by the time Jools comes home. We toast ourselves before eating.