Cronyism

The difference between my country and yours, is that I know mine is corrupt.

A story I read a few years back that might be true, of a conversation between a Brit and an African.

Yesterday, Johnson gave peerages to 39 people, mostly Brexit supporters, to inflate numbers of the upper chamber to over 800, making it the largest such chamber in the world.

This will dilute any kind of legislative scrutiny the Lords should undertake.

Gisela Stuart, Kate Hoey, Claire Fox. Amazing to see how many leading Brexiters who condemned unelected politicians making our laws are happy to become unelected politicians making our laws.

I cannot say how much I despise this list of crony peers. Utterly, utterly corrupt. We are a banana republic without even being a republic.

If this wasn't bad enough, one of the ennobled was IT Botham, wonderful cricketer and foot spa salesman, who was very vocal in his support for Brexit. Having read his first autobiography, I doubt whether he has the intellectual rigour to scrutinise Government bills.

This stinks, and yet is not surprising. This is what would happen to Johnson and Gove id Brexit wrecks the country, so future PM would just put them on the Lord's gravy train, and they can suckle at the teat of public "service" for the rest of their life, not have to worry about money or work, claiming their £150 a day for logging in, and then going for a three course lunch, plus wine, at the heavily subsided restaurant, whilst blocking aid for the sick, disabled or poor.

Thursday 30th July 2020

Thursday.

Not Friday.

But not Monday, at least.

Each day gets warmer, and getting the enthusiasm to work out each morning and afternoon gets harder, but then I look at my swollen ankles and get myself up the stairs to do a session. Though it would turn out I would not do an afternoon session this day, either.

So it goes, so it goes.

I am done, Jools has gone for a walk, so I make breakfast and get coffee ready without boiling the pot, so it'll be fresh for when Jools comes home.

Then there is the morning meeting, and just three of us attend, there is no news. No gossip. We talk about spiders and jellyfish instead and swap stories of the scariest thing we know. I show box jelly fish and naked mole rats.

Ewwww.

Jools was going to go shopping as we were running low of things, but a change of plan meant Jen was coming to dinner and it was decided that Thursday was to be curry night. So, I spend an hour investigating the menu of the Raj in Whitfield.

Outside it is hot and sunny. Too hot for me to sit outside, at least for long. Jools does gardening, until lunchtime, at which point it is too warm. But I do chase butterflies round the garden at various times, species seen: Common Blues, Brown Argus, Peacocks, Red Admirals, Large White, Gatekeepers, Meadow Browns all in the garden today, only shots were of the Common Blue, though.

And I snap flowers.

Jools bought a solar powered water fountain, it was to be a present for Cath, her sister, but we trialled it and found it works only in direct sunshine, something that Cath's house gets little of. We might just keep it.

Once we get it working, it tinkles and sprinkles until the sun sets over the yardarm. Whatever that is.

Afternoon comes and it is too damn hot for phys. So there.

I order the curry online, Jools goes to pick up Jen and collect the food.

I prepare by putting plates in the oven to warm to the same temperature as molten lava; Jen likes hot plates, and I cannot lie. I open a big bottle of tripel and wait, sitting on the patio in the shade now that the sun was behind the house.

Jools returns with Jan, food and wine.

What could go wrong?

We eat well. Jen can relax and drink without having to worry about her Mum. Betty is still n hospital. May have a hernia, and there is nothing the doctors can do, as she is too frail to have an operation. She is on drugs and stable, but knows nothing of where she is or that Jen cannot visit due to COVID.

Life goes on. In a way.

Jen stays to nine, by which time I have finished the beer and Jen says I should have a wine. I fight the urge, but give in, so sip a couple of glasses while i watch the Fulham v Cardiff game on TV, which was exciting, if not skillful.

Bed at half nine.

I sleep well.

Rule by chaos.

At 21:16 last night, the Health Secretary, Matt Hancock, Tweeted that Manchester, parts of Cheshire and Yorkshire were under stricter rules for lockdown.

No warning. No actual written guidance, nothing for police or pub and restaurants owners to comply with.

If the Government has made a statutory instrument changing the lockdown laws, the text of it must exist, and must therefore be able to be made public.

If the Government does not have the text of it, then it cannot exist, and the law cannot have been changed.

Turns out this morning there is no law.

One may be written today, whether its an SI or an actual law that goes through Parliament is unclear, or it might be forgotten about.

As I have said before, making broad policy statements and wish lists is fine, but the actual delivery of those policies is beyond them.

Wednesday 29th July 2020

Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer's 39th wedding anniversary. Because it all ended up happy ever after.

The never ending July holiday in Denmark goes on.

And as each day this week arrives, it brings better weather than the one previous. This will build until Friday when it will reach 31 or 32 degrees, then cool off for the weekend. Which might actually be a good thing.

After first coffee I do a session on the cross trainer, which is hard going. My thighs ache, which I tell myself is a good thing. It is, right?

Jools is out walking, so I make breakfast after cooling down, and have eaten by the time the first meeting starts at half seven.

But it is a slow morning. Just as well as we have to see the bank, to inform them money will be arriving. Soon.

Now, I have not been into Dover town centre, must be since February, possibly even the beer festival, so it was nice to walk round the town square and up Biggin Street. Though the queue outside the bank observed social distancing, 2m apart, and as ten neared, the new opening time, the line snaked across Market Square.

It seems receiving tens of thousands of pounds is fine, and requires no notice or evidence, as opposed to having a few thousand gifted by a relative when buying a house, that must be investigated.

Who knew?

Jools went to our mortgage provider, and all is now done online, the woman on duty knew nothing about mortgages. Say much about the bank she works for. But I guess if she don't sell them, she won't know the details.

Our car is being cleaned, so we have twenty minutes to kill, so we go to La Salle Verte for 2nd breakfast, which for me was sausage sandwich and a pot of tea. The first time we have eaten out since, I don't know when, maybe January? We sat outside to eat, just to be safe. And although not the best sausages in the world, and not as wonderfully cheap and greasy as ones from a greasy spoon, it still was good.

We finish up and leave, walk back to the car down the almost deserted streets, with footfall this low nothing is going to survive to be honest. But what do I know?

Back in the car, all now shiny and clean, to drive back home and back to work. No one missed that I had been gone.

The day passed. Jools went out leaving me to hold the fort, telling me a package was being delivered, so I would have to wait until her return to go on the cross trainer.

Well, I got hungry, and by the time she returned I was well into preparing dinner, I was going to do dinner and skip phys, but I would make up tomorrow, I promised myself.

Dinner was breaded pork steaks with stir fry and fresh corn. No carbs.

And it was good. My promise to forgo booze except at weekends failed to happen this week, but instead of wine I had a beer.

The evening was taken with football: Championship play off, and if I sit in Jools' spot on the sofa, Scully will sit on my lap. Which she does.

A fine game, Brentford beat Swansea to go to the final next Tuesday. The season is nearly over.

More Trumpisms

The Cabinet Office or Number 10, don't matter which, is advertising for a person to front the Government's new daily press conferences. Paying £100,000 a year.

This is because Johnson is shit at being held under scrutiny.

A daily new conference where the Government will push it's policies, or grand impossible plans, will be broadcast to the nation. The Speaker of the House of Commons has expressed unease, stating he hopes that policy decisions will be announced in the House first, then repeated in the news conferences.

You know this isn't going to happen, Parliament is being further sidelined, with and increasing "presidential" look for UK Government. Trump's "news" coferences are a platform him to ramble and make accusations or come up with ever more bizarre statements on the virus or opponents of BLM protesters. NO actual news at all. Someone added a laughter track to on of Trump's conferences, made it better, but some news channels broadcast it live, like it is actual news.

It will happen here, maybe not so mad, but another wound to democracy where Government wants to rule, not actual govern.

Its odd though, because Johnson was elected because the Conservative Party thought him a great communicator. Turns out he's an OK panel show host, and chat show guest, but can't get on top of any brief, has dreadful reactions to scrutiny, either by media or the public, let alone the leader of the opposition. Coupled with the fact he's a poor Prime MInister too, who relies totally on his political advisor to do all the hard work for him.

What can we saw now, Johnson is actually good for, apart from being an ex-Prime Minister.

Matt Hancock this morning, continuing the line that there is a second wave sweeping across Europe, and we must protect the UK. When asked that the South West and South East have an R rate over 1, he refuses to answer.

Its all that horrible Europe's fault. He wants to protect the UK, like he did care homes in March, and look how well that went......

Mum house update

Things take time.

Even simple things.

But, we are nearly at the end of the process now.

I have signed the transfer of deeds for the Land Registry, although this is for the solicitor to hold until completion is done.

But that now is expected to be August 12th. Just two weeks time.

Today we warned our bank that a sum of money would be arriving, they seem very keen to advise us on what to do with any money we receive.

So, in 14 days the house will no longer be in the family, as it has been since bought of the planners board in 1964. Once Mum's stuff had been cleared out, I saw it for the building it then became rather than the home it was.

The last time we saw inside of it was in November when Mum's ashes were buried, we checked on the mail and had one look around.

So all things come to pass, into history, into memory.

Tuesday 28th July 2020

Tuesday.

In Denmark, July is holiday month. It seems half the company takes the weeks I had off, while the rest take the next two.

Meaning, it's very quiet at work. Only half the department is in this week, so the morning meetings are brief, as there is no gossip or scandal to share, just "what we did on our holibobs" stories, and that's it.

I have a few things to sort out too, catch up on work, so will be kinda busy. Not what Jools would call busy but keeps me off the streets.

But before all that, as the new crosstrainer was working, better give it a road test. It's not as good as the old one, not as solid, and I don't think will last a year let alone beyond that. But it will do for now.

And it feels flimsy, rocking all over the place, which I find out is due to many of the bolts not being tight enough, so I go round them, get back on, and while its better, not by much. And the position on the treader is different, so you use different muscles, which isn't a bad thing, but will make our thghs ache by the time we had done the second session that afternoon.

All that done, I am working on the dining room table, and Jools is n the garden, when she calls that there is a fritillary in the garden. I grab my camera and go out to find it wasn't a frit, but almost as good, a Comma, and its brought a friend: a Painted Lady.

Commas are fine looking butterflies, but numbers have crashed, so to see any is always good. Around East Kent it seems that the second, summer, brood is more numerous. And the Painted Lady is a frequent migrant, some of which fly across Europe from north Africa. Last year millions arrived in the UK, but this is the first I saw this year.

Both were freshly emerged and in fine condition. I snap them good, from all angles.

And then back to work.

Each day the weather gets better, long sunny periods with warm, nearly hot temperatures. It is too nice to be inside, but then when I sit outside to drink the brews Jools makes, its too hot.

Can't win.

We have ham sandwiches for lunch, sitting on the patio. It is like being on holiday. Again. But with some work.

And back to work, calls to answer, problems to solve, and the afternoon passes, until its time to pack away and do a session on the trainer. Again.

More achy legs.

Then downstairs to make dinner, more aubergine. Sliced, egg and breadcrumbed, then shallow fried in olive oil.

Yummy.

And for the first time since June 18th, there was no football to watch, so we play Uckers, and I win.

Yay.

All back to plan A

Yesterday, the Government tried to explain it's policy on forcing people returning from anywhere in Spain to isolate for 14 days, explaining it was because it was likely there was a second wave of COVID was starting.

COVID knows no borders, there will be a second wave everywhere, exept in the US where it will merge with the still building first wave, but, you know., pandemics and the way they spread is known.

No incoming passengers were tested or forced to isolate for the four months of the first wave in the UK. People arrived from mainland China, Italy and Spain and were waived through.

Its like there was no plan.

Because there was no plan.

Pointing fingers at a country that has a few spikes in cases, where those spikes are lower than spikes seen here in England, because it is an English outbreak, the Virus is all but under control in Wales, Scotland and on Ireland.

For the several weeks since the lockdown was first eased, the Government as encouraged the public to get out and do stuff: go to the beach, go to the country, go on holiday. At no point was it mentioned that travelling abroad was a risk and that restrictions could be brought in.

Suddenly.

Now the line is that all foreign travel is risky. I mean, this is right, but it was not being said last week. Or the week before then.

It is like they are making shit up.

And then when people do return, they fill out a piece of paper, and nothing happens. There is no track and trace in place, unless you download the working one from the German Government.

We ate out for the first time since March today. We ate at a cafe in Dover, sat outside on the street where we thought it would be OK to remove our masks. It might be some time before we do that again.

But people were not warned that there is a pandemic on and there is still a risk, a high risk.

Grant Shapps, the Transport Minister, went on holiday with his family on Friday to Spain. He is returning early so he can go into isolation.

It is like we have Crusty the Clown in charge. We do, just not funny. His actions have ensured that at least 40,000 extra people died this year; 20,000 from the delay in lockdown in March and the 20,000 in care homes who were exposed to the virus because of the Government policy of emptying wards in preparation for the first wave.

On average, each one of those would have lived ten more years. 40,000 people, 400,000 years of life snatched away because Johnson ignored SAGE and gambled. He bet on red, but the table came up deathly black.

But he won't admit that, though he has promised an inquiry. Like the inquiry into Islamophobia on the Conservative Party that was promised. Even when an inquiry has sat and reach conclusions, Johnson sits on the reports.

So, yes, great a report. Whoopee-fucking-doo.

Plan A being, "blame Europe".

Monday 27th July 2020

Pay Day!

But after 17 days, nearly, of holibobs, it was back to work for me.

But before work, there was the long held promise of trying the new cross trainer.

Because I am stupid, I said that no trial was needed, I'd just learn as I physed. So, after coffee, I go to the spare room, put my trainers on, and climb on the instrument of torture. I try to input details of the exercise and me.

I do this several times, and each time I press "go", nothing happens.

Twenty minute later, I was running out of time, so give up.

BAH!

After breakfast, Jools has a look, takes the battery out of the display unit, puts them back in and switches on. And now it works.

But it was now too late to do anything that morning, and upon reflection, I say I will begin "in the morning".

The day after my holiday started, I had to change my work password. I chose something so cool it would easily be remembered. So easy, I lay awake for hours on Sunday night trying to remember as I failed to write it down, or a reminder to myself.

Which means it was time for the early morning meeting, and despite it being the end of July, still half the department were still away, or some had begun their time off a week later. There was just the four of us, and there was no gossip to tell in hushed tones.

So, to the overflowing inbox, that wasn't overflowing. In fact 80% of the mails related to a trip to the Isle of Wight next month, five working days of the second week off produced just one e mail to deal with.

Which doesn't take long to deal with.

Jools is still furloughed, of course. But without me to drag her across the county looking for orchids/butterflies/trains/churches, she retired to the garden to do deadheading making it look immaculate.

Lunch comes at half eleven, ham rolls and huge brews, of course.

And back to work.

As I am back to work, the weather brightens up, so I go to the garden to take some snaps; Tansy and Dahlias grab my attention in the brief moments of sunshine.

I go back to the work laptop.

Half comes and I pack away. We are hungry, so I egg and breadcrumb chicken breasts, cook noodles and stir fry to go with the chicken.

Lovely.

Only, halfway through the meal I am struck by a migraine. I don't suffer bad ones, but this was bad enough. And there was me thinking I had slept well enough these past two weeks. I lay on the sofa with my hands over my eyes whilst my vision was wrecked by swirls and flashing lights.

I am told I slept at some point.

THere was time to write a quick blog, before I close the laptop down for the evening, and settle down to watch some play off footy.

Scully jumps up on the sofa and meows at me. I swap my usual place to where Jools sits, cover my lap with a blanket and I have a cat for the evening.

At half time, my legs were dead and moving them induces huge cramps. I try to get the footstools out from the sofa, which i do, and in the process disturb Scully who gets off in a huff, turns her back to me.

But I am comfortable, so she turns round and comes back, settles back down and purs all the way through the second half as Fulham beat Cardiff 2-0.

There is actually a football-free night on Tuesday, what will I do?

Frontstop, backstop, allstop

Back in 2016 when I first started to write about Brexit, I came across a post which listed the problems that had to be overcome to achieve a Brexit. Four years on, some have been solved, but many ignored and kicked into the long grass to be sorted out later.

Well, we are running out of time, and those issues will have to be addressed sooner as time is running out.

One of the main problems, I quickly learned, was the Irish Border. You could get the a particular Brexit by where you were willing to have the Irish Border. You could have it in the Irish Sea, which would be easier to manage, but would be politically poisonous, for Unionist parties in NO and even for the Tories, whose official name is the Conservative and Union Party. You could have it across the island of Ireland, between the Republic and NI, but it would be impossible to police and regulate. Roads cross the border back and forth, farm yards can be spit between both countries with the border running down the middle. The entire Britiah Army with support from the RAF could not police the border during the troubles, so policing it from Brexit would be impossible. Then there is no border at all, which would mean Britain and NI remaining inside the SW and CU, but May ruled that out. Which leaves the first two choices.

So, GB is now divorced from NI, at least in economic terms, down the Irish Sea. When I say economic, it is a regulatory one, as for many goods, NI will be under EU rules and regulations to facilitate All Ireland trade. So the border is implicit to ensure goods arriving in NI are compliant with EU rules. Being outside the EU's regulatory orbit would always mean that such a border is necessary at every point where trade from UK or Britain entered into the EU. You could mitigate this by having automatic systems in Britain that would mirror EU regulations and rules, but that was unacceptable for those pushing for a "Global Britain". Notice it was always Britain, not UK, NI was never considered.

So, anything linked to the EU was ruled out, meaning a hard regulatory border has to be built and policed. Ferry companies have a legal duty to ensure all vehicles and goods they carry have to correct paperwork form it to be accepted on the other side, so in taking back control the UK gave control over our exports to the EU.

Clever.

All goods exported to NI (that EU regulations apply to) and the EU will have to satisfy the EU that the good(s) are compliant. That means CE markings where needed, using all EU directives and also satisfy EU rules of origin checks so that goods from blacklisted countries or sub-standard goods cannot be imported. Britain will have to comply with these with or without a deal now it is outside the SM and CU, infrastructure, staff, training and IT systems need to be built and provided for. And need to be up and running at all points of Entry to the EU regulatory area by the end of the year. A rock hard deadline. And IT systems would need to be up and running, tested by November.

There needs to be customs posts, areas for checking vehicles and goods, waiting areas, office space, 50,000 customs officers to be recruited and trained, all be able to cope with 400,000,000 customs declarations a year. Every year.

And there is no way out of this, unless the UK agrees to stay inside the EU regulatory area. This was always the way it was going to have to be. So, knowing all this, the UK Government waited until July 13th, less than 5 months before all work needed to be completed, checked and working, to begin constructing the first such facility here in Kent. At least four more in the county needs to be built too, and five more round Britain. All will cost huge amounts of money to construct, staff, train, all to make imports and exports more expensive and less efficient.

It is madness on stilts, but it is what Brexit really means, in the real world, rather than the vast empty spaces of a Brexiteers head. This is just one aspect of Brexit, one that will effect most parts of life in these islands, making things more expensive, more difficult. Worse.

But we all knew what we were voting for, apparently.

In May this year, Michael Gove published a Command Paper outlining what needed to be done. Or some of what needed to be done. The final form of Brexit has yet to be decided, and how exporters, importers as well as haulage and ferry companies needing concrete details as to what to prepare for, what the systems and processes are going to be.

And there has been nothing for nearly three months. Nothing. No consultation either, and now Westminster is on its summer holidays, so nothing will be done until the end of August, which will give Gove and the UK Government four months, max, to tell people and businesses how to prepare for the upheavals to come on January 1st next year.

But preparations are needed Now. And detail. Great detail. From the people who have ideas and believe in things like Brexit, rather than facts.

You have been warned. For years.

Sunday 26th July 2020.

Final day of the holiday.

In our imaginations, we remember the summers of our youth, warm, sunny and never-ending. That isn't the case, of course. There has to be rain, and sometimes wind has to blow. Annoying when you have two weeks off and six days are not good enough either due to wind, rain or both to get out and do macro photography, or just walk and snap.

So it turned out this week, wit four poor days in a row. col and dark at times, and sometimes just not worth trying to get shots done, or do some church crawling as most non-Romney Marsh churches are still closed. Things will improve, and the then sun will shine again, just when we're at work.

But Sunday dawned clear and bright, as promised, perfect for a meeting I had arranged. The orchid group on FB I run as nearly 200 members, but about 20 are very active, so it is good to get together and share the orchid love and knowledge from time to time. The virus put paid to that this year for the most part, but wit the season drawing to an end, but so are the restrictions, especially outside, I had checked out the colony of Yellow Birds Nest a week back and thought the budding orchidists would be interested.

Before we met them at nine, there was just time between then and getting up to go to check on the Violet Helleborines. It was just six days, and probably there would be no change, but a bonus VH would be nice for the group.

We drove out through Barham and park at the bottom of the bridleway, the rain which we thought would have turned the paths into mudbaths could not have been that heavy, and although slippery, not too muddy at all.

It is a long slog up the down, along the path at the edge of the wood, then up the last steep part, but woth it, as the sun shone through the green canopy.

Indeed, as feared, the VH spikes were still unfurling, no further forward at all. All scattered among the mature trees, hidden in the shadows, just invisible tho those who just walk or ride by.

There was just time to get back to the car and drive to Kingston, parking under the old railway bridge as the group arrived in ones and twos. And at five past, the last one arrived, so we walked down the lane and turned down the bridleway, and in a few minutes the pale yellow fingers could be seen poking through the leaf litter.

They all take shots and are thrilled to see such a rare plant, and spikes in their several dozens, but in a small area. And so easily missed unless you knew what they were.

For the next two hours we wander through the wood, talking about orchids and other stuff. But mostly orchids.

We end up at the edge of a field, over looking the valley road, standing on what the track bed of the old Elham Valley line. I like railways, even long abandoned ones. We watch a host of butterflies feeding from a hedge filled with blooms, but time had gotten away from us, it was half eleven, and we had not eaten. We say our farewells and walk back to the car, only for me to stop at a single open BLH spike and see it had a green lip.

We all take turns to take shots of it, then we leave to all corners of Kent.

Back home it was time to prepare dinner: steak, garlic mushrooms and fried potatoes for us. I get busy, so by one we were sitting down to enjoy the meal with a glass or two of fizz each.

It was the last afternoon of the Prem, and Norwich were playing away at Citeh. I could not bring myself to watch, so followed the Leicester v Man Utd game, which was diverting enough to take away from the spanking City got. 5-0 we lost, only 2-0 at half time, but we end the season with ten straight defeatsm the worse run in the club's history, and every bit as painful as you imagine.

We're just glad the season is over now. Villa escape relegation, so its Bournemouth and Watford who go down with us.

Then there was the first Championship playoff, so after supper I watch that, and somehow the day had just about passed by.

And just like that, 17 days had gone.

Brexit Monday news.

Helen Whately is the Conservative MP for mid-Kent and also the Care Minister. Quiet at the back.

Over the weekend, she stated, in all seriousness, that lorries would be prevented from using the A251 as a rat run as a result of the Ashford lorry park.

"I didn’t think they’d erect trade obstacles in *my* Kent constituency!” wails MP for the Erect Trade Obstacles in Kent Party".

Helen isn't the brightest knife in a draw full of rusty blades, but as someone who voted for Brexit, and directly affects her constituency, you would have thought she had considered the consequences.

But apparently not.

It is summer holiday in Westminster, so all is quiet, except that the Government dropped forced 14 day quarantine requirements from people returning from Spain on their holidays. This, despite most of Spain having a lower R rate than say, Kent. DO people who go to Margate for the day have to isolate upon their return to London?

This, I presume, is to make up for the lack of a working track and trace system, which is not working, and might never do. Despite spaffing £12 million in three months on it, though quite what that three million a month bought is unclear, when Germany rolled its own one out, using open source code for less than a million Euros.

World leading in spaffing money against the wall, enriching their friends and relations.

Saturday 25th July 2020

Five (5) months until Christmas. Get your sprouts cooking now, or it'll be too late!

Usually, we wait all week for the weekend to arrive and hope for fine weather. As it turned out, yet another day of the endless holiday, and the forecast was worse than it was for Friday and earlier in the week. In fact, rain and maybe thunder was expected in the afternoon.

So, a day of doing other stuff. Indoors.

Apart from shopping, although the car could count as indoors, as does Tesco, but other than that. You know.

We have a list, but find other stuff to buy. It seems a weekly shop that a year ago cost sixty quid, now seems to cost over a hundred. Sweetmeats in aspic don't come cheap, apparently.

We arrive at the supermarket, park up and mask up too. Grab a trolley and scanner, and we are away. It is quiet and calm, we go round getting our weekly desires, and try to stick to the list, in that there was no ice cream or chocolate to fall into our bags.

Which we would regret later.

"I thought you's get the chocolate" . "I thought you would."

And so on.

We fnish, pay and poad the car. Rush back home to have breakfast of fruit, coffee and croissants. And before you know it, it is eleven and time for Huey to start his show on the wireless. And it is the 40th anniversary of the release of Back in Black. He plays lots of tracks from it, and interviews. Last week was the 40th anniversary of the release of both "Closer" and "Crocodiles". All classics in their own way.

Outside the sky clouds over further, and soon a steady drizzle is falling.

We put the table light on.

Lunch is ham rolls and chili pickle. Yummy it almost goes without saying.

We finish watching the last three episodes of Billy in New Zealand. Truth is, it all looks great. Even the cities and towns. We add more places we need to visit to the list.

We have early dinner; party food and a triple, while watching a video of a cab ride from Chester into Liverpool. It keeps me quiet.

At six we go to WHitfield for cards. And, to be honest, we have been on a long winning run.

Let me explain the rules of the games:

1. Meld. A meld is a set of three (at least, or more) cards of the same value. And runs are at least of a run of four in the same suit.

2. Ten cards are dealt each. Due to there being four of us, we use two suits.

3. Each player in turn can turn over a card from the top of the pack or take on from the stack which are face up. Out of their turn, other players can buy the card facing up, if the previous player doesn't want it. But you also have to have one from the pack to, so you will have 11 cards in your hand.

4. first round: two melds.

5. Second round: a meld and a run.

6. Third round: two runs.

7. Fourth round: three melds.

8. Fifth round: two melds and a run.

9. Sixth round: One meld and two runs.

10. Seventh and final round: three runs.

11. So that each round, players need one more card than the previous to lay their hands down on the table. Meaning that the final two rounds, players HAVE to buy.

12. Once a player has put down their hands, additional cards can be added to other players who have laid, adding to three of a kind and adding to run.

13. Winner of each hand is the first player to use all cards.

14. Winner overall is after the seventh round, the player with the lowest number of points who could not pay down.

Hope that makes sense.

Queenie. Five four hands of ten cards and one of five are dealt, the 52nd card is placed in the centre. At the end, this will be turned over and whoever has laid the queen of that suit will win what is in the pot for that. There are two other pots: one for winning each hand: the chip, and "the run". Each player puts 5 pence in each pot per game.

The player to the left of the dealer has two hands, the normal and dummy. And if, in their opinion, there hand is crap, they can swap it with the dummy.

The player to the left of the dealer lays their lowest black card, and each player lays in sequence in each suit. If no one can go, the last player to lay, lays their lowest card in the other colour.

If they run out of a colour, the go passes to the next player to lay their lowest card in that colour.

Player wins a hand by being first to play all their cards. they win the Chip pot.

If a player has played the Queen of the suit of the card in the centre, they win that pot.

If a player plays a run of four consecutive cars, they win the run pot.

If a pot is not won, it rolls over to the next hand.

Play until all pots have been won.

Two games of Meld and a game of Queenie takes about four hours, but can be as quick at two and a half, depending on quick the run is won in Queenie.

Jools and I have been winning a lot recently. This is causing friction, not bad tempered, but everyone likes to win occasionally.

Jools wins the first game of Meld.

I win the second.

And then to Queenie.

Now I should point out that a game of Meld can take an hour, and there is a pot of 40p, ten pence each to be won. No huge stakes. And as Jools and I put half the pot in, a win means us being 20 pence up. As we won both, we won 40p for two hours card sharping.

Onto Queenie: each pot is worth 20p per hand. But the run rarely gets won so builds up quickly, as a hand takes about 5 minutes.

After half an hour I am dealt 2, 3, 4 and 5 of Spades. To win you have to lay them, and before anyone else who might have a run that hand. It has happened.

Jen pays the Ace of Spades, as aces are low. I lay mine.

We had been playing less than half an hour.

"Shall we play on?"

Yes, we shall.

Another half an hour goes by, and I was again dealt the 2, 3, 4 and 5 of Spades.

Again, Jen lays the Ace.

Bang!

Game over.

We had won pretty heavily.

Again.

Outside the rain fell heavily and wind blew.

No comet action on the way home.

Friday 24th July 2020

Friday.

Last day of holiday.

I woke up after a dreadful night's sleep caused by my gammy arm. I could have it removed, then I could sleep, but how would I hold my camera?

Hmmmm.

In fact, after laying awake for two hours as dawn arrived and then the sun rose, I went back to sleep, and woke at quarter to nine.

We had breakfast, then talked about the cross trainer and we agreed to start on Monday.

Not which Monday. Clearly.

Meaning we had nothing really to do all day. I was in a bad mood caused by a lack of sleep, so listened to the radio, drank coffee, wrote and edited photos.

So, not much change.

But it was cool, breezy and very cloudy. No point in walking for macro photography.

Id it lunchtime yet?

The day doesn't get better after lunch, so we retire to the sofa to have a bingewatch of Billy Connolly in New Zealand. We think we will like it there.

The afternoon passes.

Dinner is breaded pork with chips, stir fry and fresh corn.

Yummy.

I finish the wine.

I take a shot of the back garden for shot of the day, as it shows the meadow in it's post-harvest state, looking like a regular lawn like those on either side of us.

Into the evening and there is Gardener's World. Monty was back.

All is well with this crazy world.

Bed at half nine, darkness was falling.

Little known facts

1. In 2007, I discovered a new volcano. True story.

2. A distant relative. Very distant. Used to run the Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Championships, and pass the trophy to the minor royal to present to the winner.

3. My 3rd form German class, with help from our exchange partners, invaded (a small) part of East Germany. Causing a minor diplomatic crisis. We celebrated by having a food fight at Burgwedel Town Hall.

4. I am the only child of two only children. No Aunts, Uncles, Nieces, Nephews, Cousins. It ends with me.

5. I was interviewed by the BBC regarding a chart of my favourite records I kept between April 1980 and June 1996. It was not broadcast.

6. I do not eat beetroot. It is the devil's food.

7. As is offal.

8. Red or white wine? Yes.

9. Back in 2008, I was asked to submit some shots for a Flickr group whose intention was to have a picture of every Grad I and II* listed building in England. In time, I was asked if I would curate the project in Kent. I said yes, and so was presented with a huge list. I started with some churches, but it became clear that photographing private houses was going to be problematic, so stuck with churches. Thanks to the support of people in the group, and a couple of very knowledgeable friends, I learnt more about churches, and so the Kent Church project began. 12 years later I have done something like 330 or so churches, so multiple times. I might never finish, but we have met some great people and visited some very out of the way corners of the country.

Global Britain / small minds

The ERG, European Research Group, has now turned it's "expertise" towards China.

It has found out after an extensive Google search that as the leader in global trade, China likes to make rules.

And it also seems they have heard something about 5G and have been drivers from within the Conservative Party to get Johnson to scrap the Huawei participation. It seems France has taken a sensible course and stopped the Chinese company from participating in sensitive areas of 5G infrastructure. But then it would mean going against what Trump wants.

So, the vision of global Britain is where we take rules and orders from the US. US good, EU and China bad.

Apparently.

Leaks from the EU negotiating team is that the UK has lowered sights on a deal with one being sought now more simple and less comprehensive than previous. This would make an already hard Brexit, harder.

Either way all the red tape, delays, costs and job losses will all the more likely.

But the ERG, in particular, Angela Jenkins seems OK with that as she Tweets thumbs up emojis.

Sigh.

Meanwhile, The Guardian reports that the lesson the Government is taking from COVID is that there needs to be more centralised decision making, not less. Odd as many local authorities are still reporting not being able to get current data on local infection rates. It seems Johnson and/or the Cabinet Offic (Cummings) wants more hands on control of PHE and the NHS, because all they did in the first wave went so swimmingly well.

Infection rates are climbing in Span, Germany and France, as fears that it is the start of a second wave of infections.

And in the Torygraph, Johnson is again looking at Judicial Review (JR) and seeing how intervention of the Supreme Court and others can be eliminated or reduced, as the ruling on the illegal prorogation of Parliament still rankles. Still, the rule of law and all that?

One year on

A year ago, Alexander Boris de Piffel Johnson was elected Leader of the Conservative and Union Party.

It has been quite a year.

Lost at least the first seven Parliamentary votes in the Commons.

Gave the Monarch unlawful advice in proroguing Parliament.

Promised to die in a ditch if the UK did not leave the EU on 31st October 2019.

Agreed to a WA with the EU that previous PM, Theresa May said no UK Prime Minister could ever accept.

Was elected in December on a ticket to implement the WA and PD he had agreed to. Johnson claimed it was an oven ready deal.

He scrapped the pandemic response team.

Celebrated taking the UK out of the EU on 31st January 2020. Without a plan.

Refused to extend the Transition Agreement, thus ensuring that a hard or no deal Brexit will occur on New Year's Eve.

Failed to attend 5 consecutive COBRA meetings on the impending COVID crisis.

Failed to implement the recommended lockdown until 10 days after SAGE said to. This cost an estimated 20,000 extra deaths.

Was Government policy to empty hospital A&E of infirm and elderly patients to care homes without COVID tests having been carried out and/or notes passed onto care homes.

Instead of participating in an EU scheme to procure PPE, tried to go alone, bought an aircraft-full of Turkish PPE that was useless.

Bought millions test kits that did not detect the visus.

Instead of participating in an EU scheme to procure ventilators, tried to get F1 and vacuum manufacturers try to produce them from scratch. Supplying them with the wrong specifications.

Lied when he said there would be no new border infrastructure at NI ports for the NI Protocol.

Gave guidance on social distancing and lack of contact with others, ignored them himself meaning he, Cummings, the head of the Civil Service and head of PHE all tested positive. At the same time.

Made Dominic Raab "designated survivor".

Put Liz Truss in charge of international trade.

Put Priti Patel in the Home Office.

Tried to get Chris Grayling to be chair of Intelligence committee.

Hid pillar 2 figures for testing from local authorities.

Has refused to publish figures on number of people tested since the middle of May.

Massaged number of tests carried out to double count tests on single individuals who had throat and neck swabs, and then included poteal kits as they were sent out, not when returned and tested.

Did not sack Cummings for driving to Durham contrary to lockdown rules, and then drove to Barnard Castle to test his eyesight.

Changed rules on masking to excuse Michael Gove photographed buying takeaway food.

Blocked medical experts, chief nurse, CMO and head of PHE when they failed to confirm they would not criticise Cummings.

Claim time and time that policy was lead by science, when it wasn't. Herd immunity always seemed to be the policy.

Loosening of lockdown started when data and the Governments self-imposed rules said that lockdown should remain.

Told people to go to the beach once lockdown partially lifted.

Shocked when people went to Durdle Door on the hottest day of the year so far.

Failed to realise that without a UK Single Market and Customs Union, it would be impossible to negotiate trade deals. Now has to impose such legislation, reclaiming powers from the devolved administrations.

Preparations for cross Channel trade checks only began in middle of July 2020 by cmpulsary purchase of a site in Ashford, against local planning permission. Also, see Manston.

50,000 Customs Officers need to be recruited, trained, have offices and an IT system up and working. By November. 2020.

Trade to NI will be subject to customs declarations.

400,000,000 customs declarations will need to be made next year, and every year costing, on average, £32.50. Each.

Business has been told to prepare. But no details as to what.

UK to introduce new UK standard accreditation, no details yet. But more additional costs for manufacturers.

All trade to the EU will have to be to EU standards. Still. And the UK will have no input into those. As a third country.

If the UK allows UK goods into the country with no checks, it will have to do the same to all goods from all other third countries or be in violation of the WTO preferred nations regulations. Or probably face prosecution.

Undertake negotiations with the EU in bad faith, not intending to honour the agreements made.

Cummings rewriring Whitehall, removing the Civil Service and replacing them with political appointees. 64,000 additional death over the COVID outbreak.

Spunking £400,000,000 on a bankrupt satellite company, which will be unsuitable for GPS.

Which was necessary as the UK pigheadedness locked them out of the EU's.

This is off the top of my head. There are dozens, hundreds more. I could list, but you get the picture. But looking at the press, listening to the BBC, you would think all is fine. The PM has done a grand job and everything is under control.

The next 12 months could see a second, and maybe third wave of COVID, ending of the transition period and, well, that might be enough. As this Government, this Prime Minister is barely capable of doing the basics of attending Parliament and keeping its MPs in line.

As things go really shot, and harder choices still have to be made. Well, then we shall see. We are about to live though "interesting" times. Again.

4497

27th July 2008

A Small Face.

Sunday morning dawned clear and bright, and as the forecast promised it was going to be a hot day. And as we were going to London, it was going to be even hotter there. After our usual early morning duties of cat feeding, cat-petting and then coffee drinking, we headed out in the car to find the car park we had booked just south of tower bridge.

It was the first time I had driven in London for many years, and although we travelled in on the A2, and it almost went passed the car park, I have to say the experience was not pleasant. With the usual lanes disappearing, and having to weave in and out of other cars to not miss a turn and then avoiding parked cars. Butlers Warf was once a huge complex of warehouses, apparently spice warehouses, which had now been converted to high cost housing and on the ground floor shops and restaurants. And somewhere in the warren of narrow streets was the garage. After a few false turns and dead ends we stumbled upon it, and to my surprise it was almost empty, and finding a place to park was easy.

Once parked and the car locked, we headed out on foot and carrying cameras, and set off for the river side. Running parallel to the river was a street full of bars and places to eat; wide and cobbled, and above many metal walkways linked the buildings, creating quite a site, and looking even better through a viewfinder. It was now high noon, and the hot sun was beating down, and we decided to find a place to eat; and the first place we came across was a chain restaurant called Zizzi. It’s an Italian place, and a Mediterranean salad was just what was needed on such a day. Maybe it was a mistake to have the bottle of rose wine, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyway, it was great to sit under the air-conditioning, and enjoy the cold air blowing on us.

We walked beside the Thames, stopping every few yards to take a picture or two, getting ever closer to Tower Bridge, and using the wide lens getting ever more distorted shots as it crossed over the water. And all along to river bank were restaurant after restaurant, all packed with people eating and taking in the view. Not a bad place all in all.

Our plan was to walk along to where the London Eye was and to cross the river and catch the tube at Charing Cross and go to Camden to where the Jazz Café is and so to be where the concert was for seven when the doors opened. As it turned out, the walk felt much longer in the heat, and soon Jools began to feel ill, and so we sought refuge in the first air conditioned place we came to; which was a pub. But as the lunchtime rush was over there were many seats, including ones right under the main air con vent, and very cool indeed.

After an hour and a cold pint, we set off again to the Tate Modern, where they have allowed ‘street artists’ to paint to outside of the old power station with huge selections of their work.

And then on once more to Westminster, across the river and down into the Tube. Long gone are the days when a single journey would cost just 20p, now it’s £4.00, and something of a shock. And it is still so hot down on the trains, especially on the deeper lines, and as we were travelling on the Northern Line, one of the deepest, it was even hotter.

Camden high Street came a real shock, as it is full of t shirt shops, and on the other side a market of clothes stalls selling identical t shirts as the shops; and full of people. The venue was in a quieter street, and it was a relief to head off down that and find an air conditioned café and have a chilled mango juice or two to while away the time before it was time to head to the gig.

We sat downstairs as the venue filled up, before making our way to the balcony, as had booked a table and a meal to go along with the gig. It was an odd feeling to be there at a table and being waited on whilst the roadies got the equipment on stage ready, but I guess that’s why it’s called the Jazz café, as it really is a café. Just before showtime, a couple sat down next to me, and what was to become my abiding memory of the evening, the wife began broadcasting her thoughts in a very loud voice. The food was really good; I had squash and carrot soup followed by Caribbean style chicken and rice; whilst next to me the wife read out the menu, twice, and then that they had to be at Euston by half eleven at the latest, and so on…..

And once Ian Mclagen had taken the stage she got up and began to dance; I say dance it was this stylised handclapping and shifting her weight from one foot to the other, each time bumping me in the side of the head. Grrr. And then there was her heckling; not really heckling, but joining in with the in-between song banter on stage; eventually resulting in a put down from the stage which thankfully shut her up, for a while. And then I think the husband suggested that she may like to dance between the table instead rather than in the small gap between diners. And mercifully, they had to leave before the end of the show, so I got to enjoy the final 20 minutes of the gig annoyance free.

The gig was fantastic, Ian was once the keyboard player in both The Small faces and The Faces, and co-wrote many classic songs by those bands, and worked with both Steve Marriott and Rod Stewart, as well as Ronnie Wood amongst countless others. That he is not a major name in British music is a crime to be honest, and he and his current band blasted out a selection of new songs from their new record and selections from Ian’s past. That he has a raspy voice like Rod’s; so the Faces songs seem perfect, and seeing and hearing his work on the organ and keyboards was a real treat, and his hands flew along the three banks of keyboards; song of the night for me was a Small Faces b side called get it Together, which was just wonderful and so full of energy, and Cindy, Incidentally, which was like listening to it on the radio, so perfect his voice was to Rod’s.

Thursday 23rd July 2020

Jen's Mum, Betty, is 101 next birthday, which makes her, currently, 100 years old.

She is about four and a half feet tall, lives off cold tea and peppermints. About three years ago she decided that the front and back dorrsteps were too high to step over, and has not left the house since.

She spends most of the day sitting in her armchair, watching TV with the sound at full volume as she doesn't like hearing aids.

Last week she fell ill. She was seeing people walking on the ceiling, stealing her teeth. And so on. So, Jen called the doctor (they don't do housecalls unless in an emergency) and he prescribed antibiotics for a urinary infection, as that's what it sounded like.

Bet slept all through the weekend, including the four hours we were at Jen's, the TV was switched off and silent whilst we played cards and made merry.

So, on Wednesday Bet was getting worse, and so, naturally, Jen became worried. On Thursday, Bet could not swallow, so Jen called the doctor who sent two nurses to assess Bet. Whilst they were with Bet, she vomited, vomited a black sludge, which wasn't a good sign. An ambulance was called for so Bet went to William Harvey for assessment.

Jen was stunned by these turn of events, though I suppose, in general, not surprised, if that makes sense. Jools invited Jen for dinner, until I pointed out we didn't have enough stuff out, but on second thoughts, I said if we got some of the frozen ragu out, I could make bread.

Which is why and how Jen came to be at ours for dinner.

Before that; the rest of the day.

It was to be a dull and breezy day, and I really needed to sort out the lawnmeadow.

For the best part of eleven months, it requires little or no work, but at the end of July, beginning of August, it needs to be harvested, raked, scarified and so on. With my gammy arm and general lack of enthusiasm meant I was reluctant to say the least.

I kept putting off the day and then the start time of the work, but at nine, I had run out of excuses.

Let's get to work.

So, we gather the hay we had prepared last week, then scarified the whole of the grassed area.

Then mowed. And finally raked it all, gathering the hay again. Five bags of dried grass and moss later, the lawn is about 40% bare soil, perfect for being seeded.

If needed.

That took two hours, and we were hot and achy. Especially my arm.

We have lunch, and then settle down to watch Billy Connolly's World Tour of New Zealand, looking for tips for places to visit when we go next year.

When not if.

The afternoon passes.

Jen calls with the news about Bet and the day changes, Jen arriving at half five for dinner. We eat and talk until eight.

And that was it for the day, really. The hospital did call, they think Bet has an hiatus hernia, so can be treated, but needs tests.

Jen leaves, and we are aone again, sitting in the gathering gloom of a July evening, listening to the radio, now that football has just about finished for the season.

Pass the buck

Brexiteers are now trying to say that the hard or no deal Brexit the country is facing is because Remainers fought Brexit at every stage.

This is a lie.

There was always ample time to turn away from this path, most notably when May lost her majority in the 2017, clearly there was no national backing fer her vision of Brexit, she could and should have reached out to find a compromise.

But that would never have been acceptable to Brexiteers, who always after getting what they wanted, pushed for more. More Brexit, more pain, more costs. Until we fave either the hardest of all Brexits or another no deal.

The cost of both is enormous, in terms of job losses, prestige loss on the international stage, and loss of GDP, but many of this things happens so slowly, most people hardly notice.

This week there was a story that Cadburys are going to reduce the size of their chocolate bars, but not reduce the cost. This will happen time and time again for goods of all sorts. Its all part of the "Brexit of little things", the little things we take for granted. All of these, well many of them, will become more fifficult or more expensive. Or both.

No one has really explained to the public the Brexit of little things, that a lot of the little things will happen with or without a deal, they just will. And will require, in many cases, preparation for mitigation not just by companies and exporters, but by each of us too. An international driving permit, pet passports, travel and health insurance, the return of data roaming charges, cost of energy and so on and one. And that is just off the top of my head.

Interrupted supply chains will mean added costs. Just in time supply means that manufacturers tie up less capital in stock, increasing efficiency, reducing physical footprint with no need for warehousing. Being outside the SM and CU will mean delays. Mean more red tape, and that is not the choice of the EU but as a direct result of the UK leaving the EU. The Government was told this would happen, and they responded "project fear", to close down the debate.

Brexit was sold on having the same benefits with saving money. It was written on the side of a bus. 50,000 customs agents and inspectors will be needed, trained, given IT systems and paid to work. All this costs you and me the taxpayer, and will add to delays on goods coming in and leaving the country to the EU. This will mean some, maybe many, exporters, importers are no longer financially viable and will close. More jobs lost. Or they can find a UK supplier, might be more expensive, not so efficient. Same result.

The free market, something one nation Conservatives used to care about, found its natural best systems, the most efficient, allow for maximum profit under minimum stock holding meaning cheaper prices for consumers. Brexit will destroy that, as it always was going to, once May decided that Brexit meant leaving the SM and CU.

But Brexit has happened, we have left the EU, and the future relationship with the EU will be one that we have negotiated by ourselves. We as a country own this, the choices we made, the lack of scrutiny on the empty promises made, and now that Parliament has castrated itself and will allow Ministers like Liz Truss to have a free ride to decide whatever she wants in a trade deal.

In all other EU27 countries, trade deals negotiated by the bloc were debated and approved, the UK waived the right to do that, and then Brexiteers used that decision to "show" how undemocratic the EU was. As is almost always the case, what was blamed on the EU was, in fact, a UK Government policy choice. Now they have chosen, under a Tory three line whip, to abdicate their responsibility once again, like they did with the indicative votes or when there was a free day in the Commons and all they had to do was agree on an alternative course than hard Brexit.

This week a new campaign to prepare for Brexit: "Let's get Going", a series of slogans that make it all sound so wonderful, all about new opportunities, sovereign nation, and so on. This is part of the shock and awe promised, if people follow the links, they will find no opportunities, just added work and cost that we will all have face and comply with. That also wasn't written on the side of a bus.

Links show there is no benefit, no cost saving, no time saving with Brexit. Just costs, delay and paperwork.

As it always was going to be.

Brexit is barely in the headlines now, just the occasional jingoistic banner headline in the Express or Mail, about how Johnny Foreigner will soon learn when the UK walks away. But the Union is already split, not the UK with the EU, but Britain with NI. That is broken whatever happens, and when the reality of that hots, well, all bets are off.

But then, everybody knew what they were voting for, apparently, and Johnson then had his oven ready deal.

Here we go again

The latest round of talks between the UK and EU have ended with no agreement.

Which should surprise no one.

The UK says it expects further movement by the EU without moving itself. The two main sticking points are the Level Playing Field (LPF) and fishing.

Fishing: UK fishermen have sold most of their concessions to overseas masters, so there are very few UK boats in the fleet. And what there is is a fraction of a fraction of the UK's total GDP. But it's symbolic, and Brexiteers like a good symbol.

There will be no movement by the EU on fishing. It will want access.

As for the LPF: there was provision and agreement on this in the PD, so this is not a surprise. The EU will, absolutely, not bend on LPF either.

Meanwhile the UK trying to weedle itself out of agreements already made, some in the WA itself (an international treaty) and the PD.

Micheal Barnier says that an agreement needs to be made by October. He was honest and pragmatic.

Mark Francois made fun of Barnier's accent. Yes, that's where we are.

Barnier takes his negotiating mandate from the EU COmmission, which is elected by Member States. Comlaining about Marnier is like moaning when a "speak your weight machine" calls you fat. Just doing its job, as Barnier is doing his, pointing out that the EU's position has not changed. Respect our red lines and maybe a deal can be done.

So, summer holidays, and another four weeks will slip by.

There is no time for an FTA of any kind. All that could be done is an Association Membership of Agreement, which has the bonus of not needing ratification by national or regional assemblies. Though the EU will demand an overarching dispute resolution of the entire deal, not on a sector by sector basis as the UK wants. The EU has that with Switzerland, and doesn't want to go through that pain again.

There is a deal to be done, maybe, just how late before Johnson blinks.

Jon Lis, a Brexit commentator I respect, suggests there just is no plan. Never was. And that as it becomes clear to the Brexiteers in charge, its so complex they don't know where to start. So, resort to threats in walking out of talks.

There might be more to this than appears, as a report published this morning says the Government had no plan for dealing with COVID, just did things. Sometimes right, mostly wrong.

As always, Brexit was fine in theory, in the space of a Brexiteers head, but in reality, in the real world, it falls apart.

So, as we head towards another cliff edge, not only is there no brakes on the bus, there is no one at the wheel and those running around screaming can't see cliff edges.

Business needs clarity on what to prepare for, reports suggest those invisted to take part in working groups are expected to sign NDAs which have a gag clause for seven years.

By October business will be screaming, loudly, as to what it is to do. Its not at the moment as in rocking the boat firms worry about losing access to Ministers of contracts, but the silence will end.

Just don't be surprised.

Oh, and the third update: talks between the UK and US have been postponed until the new year, as they are deemed to be too complicated to rush. As opposed to talks with the EU which are every bit as complicated and worth many times more to our GDP, but they can be rushed.

Something stinks.

Wednesday 22nd July 2020

You will be glad to know that we have reached the current end to how many orchid sites we can visit. At least until the few remaining spikes decide to open.

Meaning that leaves us with butterflies and other plants. Butterflies are not plants, by the way.

And Wednesday was going to be warm, and it had been a while since we or even me on me own had walked to the Dip and beyond. So a plan was hatched: coffee and breakfast, then out and walk. One foot in front of the other until we reached our destination, at which point we will turn round and come back.

Its been a while.

But at half seven , we set off, bound for Kingsdown Leas so I could butterfly hunt.

I would tick most boxes I set out to tick.

Which was nice.

The path over the fields is very overgrown, but there was a way through.

The piglets are proper porkers now, and a trip to the market can't be far off.

Then down Norway Drove to The Dip, making its fan club very, very happy.

Now, I am often set in my ways, going the same way over and over again, maybe because one time I saw a butterfly or plant, so I might see it again. But then I wouldn't see anything new, would I?

I say to Jools, instead of walking over the downs to the Monument then down along the cliffs, maybe we should go via Barrow Mount instead? Which we do.

Turns out this is the most direct way to Kingsdown, and cuts out two climbs in each directtion too, thus saving our legs. Or my legs. We could also check on more hedgerows and so more sloe bushes.

On the way out the golf course was empty, with just staff going round putting flags in holes, generally getting the course ready for the golfers.

All along there were butterflies: Wall Browns, Gatekeepers, Large and Small Whites, all busy feeding on the hedgerow plants.

And I saws of nice flora to snap too, including some very fine harebells, all bobbing in the gentle breeze.

Down past the golf course and onto the Leas, where I spot the first, and only, Chalkhill, a male basking in the sunshine. I snap him.

Jools also spots what looks like a small Common Blue but turned out to be a fresh Small Blue, that also basked well.

Two nice Common Blues, a male and female, were feeding and basking, and so napped too.

I did look in the everlasting pea for Long Tailed Blues, but none seen. They look the same as the flower heads once they close, so they can only be spotted it they move.

And back again, the same way, though this time with golfers.

The sound of metal, or carbon fibre, on plastic.

And once back on Barrow Mount it was pretty much downhill all the way. I tell my back this so it might stop grumbling.

Jools strode ahead as the final push back up the Dip would mean I would have to take my time, so she left me to wander back on my own and get further distracted by even more butterflies.

I was chasing a Brown Argus when a train of four ponies with riders clip clop by. We pass the time of day, and I was up the last slope, past the chickens and lambs of Fleet House, then back past the butterfly glade, across the fields to home, where there was a large glass of iced squash waiting for me.

Which was very welcome.

We both said our legs were achy breaky.

In truth we had been out three hours, but had done it, and I was painfree for much of the time, just that last slope that caused my back to break out the DEFCON 1 complaints.

We have lunch, brews. More brews.

It was too hot to sit outside, so we laze around the house. Or I do. Jools goes to have a snooze on the patio. Or would have done, but Mulder followed her down the garden and would not let her be.

The evening was taken with yet more football. But don't fret, the season is nearly over. Only it isn't, but I don't get European games, so no need to worry.

I watch West Ham draw with Man Utd. I think that was it. Then the final games of the Championship, where it was a race between WBA and Brentford for the last automatic promotion spot.

It was tense stuff, WBA drew 2-2 and had to hope Brentford did not win, as they were drawing 1-1. There was a last twist in the tail as Brentford concede in injury time, and so Albion players go wild.

I leave them to it and go to bed.

All this relaxation is so tiring.