Thursday 19th July 2018

I was speaking to my friend Rob the other week, about how once you are in the system, there is little hope of escape. The NHS means well, but if they don't find anything the first time, they get you to go back, and back.

And so it was with Jools, they found something on her first scan, so they are digging and digging, which is good, but I think this is now the forth or fifth scan, and the biggest. But after this one, that would, or should be it. Just wait to August for the results.

As this was in the big, closed in banging machine, I said I would go along, and thankfully, I only had two meetings, bot first thing, so once the second one was done, we could go.

Thanks to Danish holidays, I am now the effective Head of Quality, in that there is no one between our level and the CEO. So, I have to chair meetings, listen, take notes even if there is nothing I could do. That done, we drive to Ashford, as Jools had some pre-op stuff to take,

I am not a hospital person, and the time lingers as we wait until it was Jools's time to go in, get checked over, then some more waiting before the scan.

I wait outside, flicking through decade old copies of National Geographic, and listen to snatches of conversation from other waiting people, until Jools returns, shaken, and we can leave. It is two, outside the sun is shining, and seems technicolour in comparison to the scenes inside.

We make our escape, along the A20 west until we come to a fine little pub we know just for a bite to eat and a drink.

We tuck into sausage ciabattas and slurp from long drinks of fruit juice, and soon the memory of the hospital fades.

From there we drive onto the motorway and up the A249, back to look for the Yellow Birdsnest again. I spoke to my friend, I had better directions, I hoped.

We park along the lane, and I go into the wood armed with my camera and begin to look, and just as I was on the point of giving up, something catches my eye. I look and there is a single spike, turned round at the top, looking very much like its Old English name, Dutchman's Pipe.

And just behind there was a group of at least half a dozen, if not more. Some had opened what counted for flowers, and they looked otherworldly. And yet these were growing less than two feet from a well used path, and yet un noticed except my my friend, and now me. Why I was really excited was that these are a "marker" species for the legendary Ghost Orchid; in that these, Violet Helleborines and Ghosts all are supposed to like the same conditions.

I was happy now.

And with it being four, too late to go back for work, we drive to Denge Wood, along the M2 to Canterbury, then down country lanes to the familiar parking space ready for the long walk to the bank.

A few short weeks ago this places was busy with people, no parking spaces, but now we were the only ones. And the wide woodland track was now overgrown on both sides, so much so there was barely room for us to walk side by side. And in the vegetations, flowers of all kinds jostled for attention, attention from butterflies. Brimstone, Large Whites, Ringlets, Gatekeepers, Skippers and so on. The Brimstones were even compliant to allow me to get some shots.

Which was nice.

It was hot, especially out in the open spaces between the wooded areas, but we press on, and instead of going into the reserve, we carry on up the track to where i knew there were some orchids.

A poor show compared to last time I was there, just half a dozen spikes in once place, but a good variation in colour, and one with an elongated lip. Now this may not mean much, but it could be a different species. One that is thought to be extinct in Kent is the Narrow Lipped Helleborine. I was right, and wrong as it turned out. It was a different species, just not that, but a Violet Helleborine instead, and one growing amongst Broad Leaved, meaning in a few years there could be some nice hybrids.

That I only saw once I was back home and editing the shots, a post on an orchid group confirmed it. Still nice though.

All that was left was the long walk back to the car, our enthusiasm flagging in the stifling conditions, but I had remembered to pack some water in the boot, so we slurped and soon felt better.

We drove back to East Kent, but instead of going home, we g to one our favourite pubs, The Old Lantern at Martin, now under new ownership, and pretty good.

There was just the four choices, so we both go for burger. They have opened up the back as a beer garden, so we go out back and take a table, and sit in the evening light, sipping our drinks until the food came.

All very nice, homemade burgers, which were really good. and washed down by some nice craft ales.

We pay and drive back up the hill, crossing the Deal road to home where the cats were demanding their dinner too.