Monday 25th May 2020

Bank Holiday Monday.

The 2nd Mrs Jelltex's birthday.

Estelle Hadingham (nee Braunsberg) died in about 1998, some two years after I divorced her, killing herself with diabetes, as her diabetic nurse has predicted, and the reason I left her.

Before she died, she had a stroke, lost one leg, then the other, then went blind. And died.

All avoidable if she has looked after her condition. She didn't.

Her Father also died of diabetes, maybe she wanted to join him? I have no idea. But when someone has a death wish, you can only do so much, which is why when it became clear nothing was going to make mum change course, I made clear that was her choice, and away you go.

Estelle died. Mum died. Gives me no pleasure in being proved right. But there you go, its a curse.

Last time I saw my stepson, Matthew told me Mam said I could not call you Dad any more. And, Man said I could not tell you I love you.

I would never use a child against my former partner, no matter what. I hope Estelle found peace in the end, and Matthew found happiness. He is 32 now, I have no seen hm in 20 years.

So it goes, so it goes.

There comes a point that when they want to do what they want to do, you let them.

But Bank Holiday Monday.

I sleep well until past half six, a veritable slugabed, but then it is up, drink coffee and out to visit the only acid bog in Kent. Or just about.

Hothfield is home to a fine church, a nice village and an acid bog. Something for everyone.

Thing is, I know where to park how to get to the orchids, and back in double quick time. Only regret was that the greasy spoon just outside the reserve didn't open on public holidays. So we had to stick with the bag of apricots I brought.

Sot it goes, so it goes.

Its a short walk from the car park, across the main road, through the wood and into the reserve, through the stile and near to the pond. I look for what I was expecting to be numerous spikes, but find just three or four, only one worth snapping, but that was in shade, but in sun when I left, so I snapped it then. These are all Heath Spotted,, and rare in Kent, so if you want to see 'em, you have to come here.

Also on the Heath are Cotton Grass, Lousewort and sundew. I snap them all.

And that is that.

Back to the car and drive to the second location, Stalisfield where in other years we would have a pub lunch. But not this year, as all pubs are still closed. We park on the green and walk down the lane to the field, which this year is sowed with broad beans.

Over that and into the woods, down into the shady valley and out the other side to the meadow, which I was expecting to be full of hundreds of flowering spikes of Greater Butterflies. And there are none.

Closer inspection show there to be about a dozen rosettes, but wind burnt and looking very sad, victims of a late frost and cold east wind.

Nothing to see here. Except a few Roman Snails, left over from the invasion 1400 years ago. Seriously.

And that was that. Nothing left but a hot and sweaty climb back to the field, then over to the pub and the car.

Back home via the A2, meaning we were back by half ten, time for a brew and a sit down.

And the rest of the day to fritter away.

We have caprese for lunch, washed down with red wine. You'd expect nothing less.

And then struggle to stay awake in the afternoon. The final two slices of cheesecake helped, along with a strong coffee.

And somehow the day, as warm and fine as it was, slip away.

We end with pate on toast, and the last of the digestive biscuits, and an hour of #wildflowerhour for me.

Perfect, really.