Sunday 30th June 2019

Last day of June, and so into the second half of the year.

But first, more orchids.

Can there really be any more orchids to see in Kent? Yes there can.

In fact, in my role as Playboy, International Quality Expert and now Orchidist, I get request from folks as to where this or that orchid can be found. For the most part, that's easy, and I help. But then there are Musks.

Musk Orchids are tiny. Knowing where they can be found is little help as spikes can be just a cm or two high, and easily missed. So, can I help a member of my group find the Musks?

Well, it will have to be early, half eight.

OK she says.

So, after coffee and breakfast, on a thankfully cooler morning, we drive over the Barham and to PGD to be there for half eight, and meet a pair of budding orchid hunters.

We shake hands. We have looked everywhere here they said. Later they point to a completely wrong area of the down.

Not there, I said.

We walk on, then I follow the well worn track up the down, taking the little used right hand fork, count along the humps of tufted grass, until the background matched what was on my memory.

I looked.

Looked again.

And then, there was a spike. Then three more.

Can you see them, I asked?

No.

No.

Then, yes.

They were happy. Very happy. I have to make tracks, as I needed a haircut before going away on Monday, and I had learned there was a sort of airshow in Folkestone, and I wanted to get there before the rest of Kent arrived.

I said goodbye, walked back to the car, and Jools and I drive back to the main road, then down the valley to Folkestone.

We were to meet an old friend, Mary, who lives in the town, and we can catch up, have a coffee.

Thankfully, the rest of Kent had not arrived, so we parked up, and I walked to the barbers while Jools met with Mary and went to have a coffee.

I have timed it right, and shown straight into a chair, and my long golden locks were shorn to the wood, the bloke even used a buffer to shine my newly exposed skin on my neck.

He round off with clipping my eyebrows, nasal hair and the shrubs growing out of my ears. I am reminded by something Billy Connolly said about growing such hair; what does my body think I'll be doing in old age to need hair coming out of my ears? I'm deaf enough as it is!

But the job is done, I pay him, and walk out, head much cooler.

I walk to the cafe, meet Jools and Mary, have an orange juice as we talk.

After half an hour, we pay and leave. As well as the airshow, there is an armed forces day, and there is the promise of military stuff. I have a camera, so might be good?

No, its grim, really.

Endless tat stalls, and crowded with tattooed families, getting in my way.

The Red Arrows were due to arrive at four, that was in five hours. There was no way was I staying there that long.

We walk and talk, both Jools and I thinking, as it happens, at what point could we suggest turning round without being rude?

Quarter to twelve.

It was great to meet Mary, but we don't do crowds really. So we walk back to the car, bid Mary farewell for another month, and get in and get out of town, driving back to Dover then up Jubilee Way to home.

Phew.

I make stuffed flatbreads for lunch. Stuffed with rocket, onions and chorizo, smothered in remoulade. Lovely food. And with a beer.

Its not long before I'm laying on the sofa, snoring loudly.

The afternoon was bright, but breezy, meaning it wasn't hot, just nice and warm. Warm enough to get 90 minutes 40 winks.

The weekend was running out. I pack, shower and shave, then cook dinner; carbonara with garlic bread, and a bottle of pink fizz too.

I let Jools beat me at uckers. In fact, she played well, and deserved to win.

And that was the weekend.

Next, a new month and ten days away.