Saturday 4th May 2019

Star Wars Day (Geekville)

Day 1 of the three day weekend.

I am a keen orchidist, you may have noticed, and over the years I have made friends with other orchidists and orchid fan boys, . So, during the week it became clear that several of us were going to visit Marden Meadows to see the GWO, so we agreed, or I thought I agreed, that we meet at eight.

And Marden being in west Kent meant this was an hour's drive for us.

We wake up at half five, what with being so excited to have all this stuff to do on a Saturday, and for reasons that will become clear, no football to worry about at least for 24 hours.

We have coffee, get dressed and pack our bags, check camera bag to make sure we have everything, throw it all in a car and set off into the cool but clear morning.

And I mean it was cool, just above freezing, which may mean we lose some of our seedlings we put out too early. But what can you do?

Anyway, with Radcliffe and Maconie on the radio, we cruise up the motorway to Leeds, then up the hill and along the ridge to Linton, then down onto the flat farmland, into Marden and out the other side, arriving at the meadow and finding we have the whole place to ourselves. And thanks to social media, I knew the orchids were at their peak, so it was a quick scramble to get a camera out of the back and into the first of the four meadows.

I guess 90% of the Green Winged are pretty much the same, but there is a good colour variation other than the usual blue/purple: some are darker, there is a salmon pink variety, and the rare pure white var alba. It was for those last variations I was searching for, but also for the sight and experience of being in a meadow with tens of thousands of orchid spikes, in places so dense it was like a carpet. Lazy writing I know, but that's what they're like.

I walk round the large meadow, into the second which surrounds the pond, then back into the main meadow.

Wow. All round the edge until I find three pure white spikes, and another in the middle of the meadow. And the pink ones scattered through.

It was heavenly. I mean, what could be better to have this meadow to yourselves when the orchids are at their peak?

After an hour, I had got my shots, so we walked back to the car and were packing the gear away when another car arrived. This was Lorraine who we were supposed to have met at eight, but she has a toddler which means she works to his routing, not to that of childless orchidists.

She got out of the car, said hell, then said, "are you Bishop Brian Jones (which is my screen name on FB). Yes I am, I said. We talk for ages, swaping stories and hints and tips for future trips and hunts.

Another car pulls in, and an older couple get out. I say hello. The chap eyes me up, and then says, "are you Brian Jones? Bishop Brian Jones who also photographs churches?

Yes, yes I am.

Ron and his wife were pleased to meet me, and so we all talked for half an hour, swapping more storis and tips, until we really had to be going, but I did know that two more friends were soon to arrive.

But there would be other times.

We drove into the village, as I had never visited the church in Marden, so I thought that this day would be the day.

We found a place to park, and soon I found the church, it wasn't lost. St Michael and All Angles has a fine clapboard tower, and is built of fine local red stone. It was well worth the effort to visit.

After snapping it, we walk to the village square, where in the middle there used to be a petrol station, but is now a shop selling local produce. I go in and buy some asparagus, garlic and a can of pop.

We drink the can as we walk back to the car, and decide with the weather clouding up and the wild building, orchids would be postponed for a day, so we would do another church or two in the area. I had scoured the A-Z and found two marked, but both hamlets turned out to be churchless, meaning the map lied! But the last place I had researched, so knew there was a fine church at Horsmonden.

The church is set some way from the village, at the end of a dead end lane, overlooking verdant farmland, with just two farmhouses and an oasthouse for company. It is a perfect place.

I convinced myself that it would be locked, but the door swung open, and inside was a large and splendid space.

I got snapping.

Back to the car, and with dark clouds gathering, we retraced our tyretracks to Gudhurst and back to Leeds and to the motorway.

There was no sun now, and the clouds got darker and lower, sending the temperature which was only 9 degrees to drop to just three.

The heavens opened and hail fell in curtains. It was like driving at night, and gave the impression of being the end of the world.

Where had spring gone?

We made it home, but hail fell on and off all afternoon, at times laying on the ground like snow. We turned the heating up.

And I turned on the football.

The Championship wasn't playing until Sunday, when all teams kick off at the same time to play the final game, so there was no pressure, just to listen to the action and excitement as it played out.

And after dinner, we went to Whitfield for some card action.

Its finny, some nights are more enjoyable than others, and although we did win last night, we were all in really good spirits, we laughed, joked and drank, ate cheese and crackers.

As we played more hail hammered down on the roof of the dining room.

Jools cooped the pot at the end of the night, so we went from having a near empty penny pot to one half full.

Lovely.