Sunday 15th September 2019

A day of rest, and one which contained no churches.

First job was to watch the highlights of the football, seeing as not only Norwich won, but due to the fact we beat the champions, our game was on first.

I make bacon butties halfway through, and then we're ready.

Ready for another Autumn Gentian hunt. However, this time, I had accurate directions, and an idea that these are not 12 to 18 inches tall, but rather just an inch or two.

We park at the Monument and walk down the slope of the cliff towards Kingsdown. It was already warm, and no better place to be than here, doing some botanising.

We go through the stile and I begin to search, Jools looking on, with the occasional help: is that it? no. Is that it? no.

But I see one spike, then a few others, nothing quite like I imagined, but after two years searching, I had finally found them.

Yay.

So I walk back to the car, and Jools walks back home, via the paths I have done previously. One of the perks of working from home, sometimes.

Anyway, I walk back up the down to the car park, stopping off to look for another plant, Weld, that a friend snapped on Saturday. But this was easy to spot, standing more than a metre tall, and looking like a group of angry triffids.

I snap then then drive home, getting back at just before ten, time for a shower and some music and writing before the serious business of preparing caprese for lunch, then getting ready for the afternoon's football.

We did need to do the sloe gin.

So, Jools leaves me at the side of field with a carrier bag, whilst she braved Sunday lunchtime in Tesco.

I work my way along, picking plenty of the small plums.

After ten minutes or so, I am disturbed by a noise from above, and one of the local buzzards had landed in a branch ten feet away.

I get a good look at it, its white feather on its breast before it screeches at me and flies off.

Wow.

Jools comes back, helps me finish the harvesting, and we go home to have lunch, then get bottling.

That done, I settle down to watch the football, it is too hot to sit outside, so Jools tells me. I agree,

She had bough some macaroons for us to eat, the proper French ones from M&S, so no messing. And we waffle them all down with coffee in the middle of the afternoon, meaning I might even stay awake.

The football done, I make shoarma, fried potatoes and creamed spinach. And it is a triumph.

We open a bottle of pink fizz to celebrate.

Yay.

And so the day fades again. We listen to the radio, but I am too tired for Uckers, much to Jools' disappointment.

Oh well, always tomorrow,