Sunday 24th February 2019

The weekend (part 2)

And it was going to be another splendid day. Although, it was very cold first thing, with frost on the ground, and very much needed to put the central heating on.

That said, we start the day slowly, with coffee then me watching MOTD and Jools went out to pick up some large items of fly-tipping and take that to the dump.

Meaning that we were ready to go out at nine

By then it was warming up, and we were hoping to see a butterfly or two on the wing, and our chosen wood and chalk bank to walk was Yocklett's, home to the swarm of Fly Orchids.

We drive out along the A2 then down through Barham, along the wonderfully named Gravel Castle Lane, then down the Elham Valley before crossing over the downs to Stone Street.

It was so peaceful. Just birds singing, and expectant sheep baaing their frustration about waiting for the birth or their lamb Or two. I reverse into the parking spot, get out three cameras, and we're ready to go.

Along the lower path much clearance of hazel had taken place, opening up clearings for more wild flowers, and indeed places where orchids grew in the shade previous years will have open skies above them.

After climbing to the lower meadow, we pause to sit on the old bench, and look at man and nature's work in the valley below. It is a view we know and love so well.

But there was no Brimstones on the wing, and no slow worms under the iron panels lower down the meadow. It is still only February after all.

Down through the wood, looking a the emerging flowers and plants, no orchids, yet. But lots of others though.

Across the road, then up the path to the upper meadow, where we hoped to see the yellow butterflies. So we sit for twenty minutes, I look for orchid rosettes too, but no butterflies flutter by.

We carry on through the bluebell wood, plenty of leaves of those showing well too, down the bank and along the bottom path, where I had seen Brimstones before. And finally, just before the gate, I see the first one, but it is gone, up into the upper branches of a birch tree.

On the path back to the car, once past the lower meadow, we see several Brimstones, and one settles, I creep up and manage to snap it, looking for all the world like another leaf on some ivy.

We drive back to Dover, then to Mike's to see how he and Jane are.

Meg's funeral is this Thursday, and so we are making the final arrangements, travel and flowers and so on. It is still grim business, and will get worse on Thursday.

How this has touched so many people, brought pain into our lives, and hurt that we cannot undo what has happened. Meg will always be gone.

After Thursday we don't know what will happen, just get on with our lives and the healing can begin. We just don't know how bad the hurt is right now.

We leave after an hour, come home and have lunch.

It seems right to have our cooked meal at this point, neither of us had eaten that day, well apart from some fruit for me.

The football is on the radio, but I lose interest. Yes, its true, so into the second half of the League Cup final, we put Monty on the i player, i Japan, where he visits some of the gardens we also visited. Seeing the country in autumn makes us want to go back again.

When we put the radio back on, the game is still on and there has been no goals, and the commentator is saying its been a dour game.

In the evening I feast of toasted cheese sandwich again, then play Jools at Uckers and I am victorious again.

Yay.

And the weekend is over again.