Friday 15th February 2019

And we come to the weekend.

The sun is shining, or does once it has risen. It is dawn now about half six, and the sun rises about quarter past seven. Already 50 minutes earlier than at Christmas.

Spring is coming.

And on such a wonderful sunny day, it almost looks like it, though the breeze had freshened from the west taking the edge of the temperature.

Jools and I had planned to go out for the afternoon, or after two once she got back, so I had to make sure I was up to date at work, and normally that would have meant a full on six hours, but as it was, with holidays in Denmark, the flood of mails had dropped to a trickle, though those that did arrive clanged with importance as they dropped.

I was even able to sit on the sofa to watch American Pickers for an hour as I monitored the mails and updated spreadsheets.

Come one in the afternoon, all was quiet, so I logged off and tidied the house for when Jools came back, though as it happened, we did not feel like walking to Walmer. Or, rather we did, but I didn't think my back would take it, so instead we went for a walk around the neighbourhood.

A wise decision as it turned, in that soon after reaching Fleet House I was struggling, and then up the long slope up the down to Windy Ridge.

Spring is there if you look for it, with flowers and green growth hidden amongst last year's withered stems. We saw no butterflies, but I would not have been surprised.

Over the field to Fleet House where a new gaggle of piglets greeted us with joy and much squealing, hoping we had food for them. They checked our hands and tried to eat my trainers, but we had to leave them disappointed. Maybe we'll bring something next time boys and girls.

The ground has dried out well after last weekend's heavy rain, but in the usual dips mud baths remained, requiring careful detours. Halfway up to Windy Ridge, my back was really grumbling, so we took the second of the lanes that cross the down, walking a mile or so until we joined back with the usual lane we take to get back home.

We were diverted by two fine jet black colts, running around and waving their manes in the air, apparently happy enough with a fine day and a pasture full of grass.

Back home we sit in the chairs on the patio, watching the garden birds feeding in the bush a few yards away. But then Mulder came to remind us it was within two hours of five, so dinner time! Meow?

Meow indeed.

Darkness falls now after five, with a slight mist rising in The Dip after the sun had set, and the sky turned to dark blue as the stars came out.

We had a quiet evening, listening to Iggy on the radio, then watching Monty in Japan, playing spotting which gardens we had been to.