Monday 20th May 2019

It is not often now I will have the chance to see a new UK orchid species, however, over the border and over the border after that, in West Sussex, there is a place where they have two very rare species, seeded, but a wild UK orchid. Well, the Greater Tongue is not a native orchid, but there has now been four confirmed records of them growing in the UK, these being one of them. But the second species, the Loose-Flowerd Orchid, is only found in the Channel Islands, and here.

So, better go and prostrate myself at their lips. As it were.

There is a quick way, via the motorway, or the lazy way, taking the coast road. And as I planned to do two or three stops on the way, I would take the coast road.

Once I had dropped Jools off at work first.

Have you got your phone? Jools asked. Hell no. How will I know if anything goes wrong? You won't, but it'll be fine.

He hoped.

After coffee, we load up the car with work bag and cameras, and off into the bright dawn, or an hour after dawn, and onto the almost empty roads to Hythe.

Having dropped Jools off, I drive out of Hythe and out onto the Romney Marsh. The road meanders over ditches and the railway line, I make good time, getting to Rye just before eight.

Last year I saw a Tweet saying a rare plant was found in, what I thought was, Rye. Growing on the church wall.

No matter, I had not been there for ages, and wandering around it cobbled streets, looking at its wonderful ancient buildings is all the more enjoyable when you're the only one ding it, and with a soundtrack of the dawn chorus.

I check all the wall s of the churchyard, and find many plants growing on or out of the wall, but not what I was looking for.

Maybe, I thought, I meant they were in Winchelsea?

Maybe indeed. Anyway, Winchelsea is just a ten minute drive away, another ancinet town, this time set on a hill with the main road up from the marsh passing through a huge stone gate.

And the town itself is set on a grid system, and some would have you believe that this was the system New York was based on. I don't know, but it aint no Manhattan.

I park beside the church, walk in and look for the plant with round shaped leaves. None found. I then go to check on the church, and about eight feet up was a single plant.

I was so excited. So excited, I told a guy from English Heritage that I had found a rare plant. Oh really, what's it called? Wall Pennywort says I. Oh that grows everywhere in this town I was told.

I deflated, slightly.

And indeed I find it everywhere I looked. Anywhere made of stone, anyways.

I go back to the car and set sail to Eastbourne, in the west.

To get there I would have to pass through, ahem; Hastings, Bexhill then Eastbourne, then St Leonards.

The road meanders through towns, up and down downs, it takes a long time to get a little distance. Hastings is jammed with traffic due to a collapsed sewer. Pooey.

But further along, it is the endless traffic lights and roundabouts.

West of Eastbourne is Beachy Head. Not a beach. It is a high chalk cliff, which then goes on to make up part of the Severn Sisters, a line of undulating chalk cliffs.

I was there as I seem to remember being told, many years ago, of a hybrid Orchid growing near there, so after what might have been six years since being told, I was following up. And directions were very sketchy to say the least

I park in the main car park, but unlike everyone else, I walk away from the cliffs to the edge of a field, to scour the hedgerow and see if any pikes could be found.

I look and look, but see nothing orchid-like.

Drat.

But I do see butterflies. Lots of butterflies, including a pair of Wall Browns who land at my feet, mid-courtship, so I was able to snap them. There was also Brown Argus and a Common Blue, though the latter was flighty and I got no shot.

Back to the car, program the sat nav and I find I still had an hour and ten minutes to go. Best get a move on.

Sussex is a smarter and posher county than Kent, I pass my gated mansions, prep schools and villages I could not afford to look at let alone live.

As I drove, the sky clouded over, meaning my plan for top shots was being ruined.

Wakehurst is a National Trust property, but the gardens are maintained by Kew, it is where they have a lot of their wild plants. And in a quiet corner there was a small collection of orchids.

He hoped.

I pulled up at midday, and I realised i had not eaten; not a problem, but with it raining, best take a break, have lunch, and hopefully the weather would get better.

Being hungry, I order a panini, a sausage roll, and get a bowl of salad with the meal too. I had a lot of food.

Anyway, I sit down to eat and hope the weather blows over.

Which it does. Kinda. It at least isn't raining.

The kind staff had given me a map, and ringed the bank where the orchids were. So, I just had to find it.

I wander through beds of Korean, Chinese then Japanese plants, before finding a small dip, down that and up a grass track, and behind some simple low fencing was a small group of orchids.

I had found them.

So, I lay down, got my shots, then wandered round the grounds, down an ornamental valley, all overflowing with highly scented rhododendrons, all marvellous stuff.

But I was worried about getting back. So, I made my way back to the car, through the shop without buying anything.

The sat nav said one hour twenty minutes. Seemed short. I decided not to believe it, so drove out of the car park and towards the motorway at warp factor nine.

But it is true: just six miles to Gatwick, then six more to the M25, 15 to Kent then down the M20 towards Hythe. I was back in east Kent before three, meaning I had two hours to kill.

That morning , driving along the coast I had seen a signpost to St Mary in the Mash, and I realised it is many years since I had been, So it was there I headed to, also because the village pub had social media ads popping up on my Facebook page all the time.

The Romney Marsh is like a bit of Norfolk dropped on the edge of Kent. All a maze of dykes and drainage ditches, criss-crossed by narrow lanes and isolated villages existing to serve the once florising wool industry that had a specific Romney breed of sheep.

St Mary in the Marsh is a house, a pub and a church.

It must be hard making the pub pay, but I got a warm welcome from the landlord, but the locals eyes me with suspicion when I said I was photographing churches.

I have a pint of Harvey;s Best, as had been in Sussex, and went out to the beer garden to sup my ale while I looked at the church beyond.

I went to the church and rattled a few shots off, nothing spectacular, but the church is best know for the final resting place of EM Nesbit.

Snaps done, I drive back to Hythe, but find I have 50 minutes to wait, which I spend watching other folks work As you do.

Jools comes out at five, we zip home so she could drop me off and go to yoga.

Phew, what a day. And now hundreds of pictures to review and post.

Lovely.

When Jools comes back, we have dinner, a plateful of party food, with flatbread and home made (by Jools) humus.

Lovely. Again.

The garden is a picture, just wish i had time to sit and enjoy it; maybe later in the week?

And that was your day. Or mine.