Tuesday 21st July 2020

For the first forty two years of my life, the motions of the sun, moon, planets and stars were unknown to me. The sun would rise, the sun would set, the moon would rise, and sometimes be visible during the day.

Then I went to sea, and discovered how dark the sky could be when there was a new moon, when you're stuck on a rusty tramp steamer in the Banda Sea. On those long dark equatorial nights, the Milky Way stretched from horizon to horizon, a natural wonder which was there for our delight.

Back home I would notice the sun move each morning as it rose, or set over the village of River in Dover.

Then we moved to the Ugly House, and I saw that at mid-winter the sun rises from the back of the house, shining into the kitchen, or relefected on Bob's and Di's windows back into our living room. Then as the year goes on, the rising sun appears each morning, slightly more east with each passing day, until in early May, its rising is hidden behind next door's house.

I mention this because at three on Monday morning, the alarm went off, as we were off to photograph the comet at what, we hoped, would be the very darkest part of night.

Light was already quite bright on the eastern horizon, stars were growing dim. To the north, the sun was leaching light there too, as it had barely dipped below the horizon, there was very few stars visible to the north and west. We stood beside the aircraft beacon looking to where the comet should have been.

In desperation we drove to Reach Road to park at the edge of a fields with uninterrupted views to the north and west. There was no comet.

I took some shots with my 50mm lens, hoping it would show up in processing. All shots were slightly out of focus, s no shots again. But take my word for it, we were up, wrapped in our winter coats, watching dawn creep over the land, while foxes howled and bats fly just above our heads.

We drove back home, and tried to get back to sleep.

I toss and turn, not helped by Scully who tried to tell me it was breakfast time, and Mulder who tried to open the bedside cabinet drawer. Even though he doens't have thumbs, don't stop the little bugger trying.

I did drop off, and lay asleep until twenty to nine. Nearly afternoon.

I get up, Jools had made a coffee for me. And after that, and a quick breakfast of fruit, we were off out.

First stop was to be at Petham, to check up on the errant BLHs. However, our simple trip was almost wrecked by getting in a jam on the approach to Bridge where a motorcycle had been in a collision with a van. The road was blocked, and police were waiting for the air ambulance.

We just had time to turn off, down to Kingston, the plan had been to get to Bridge, but that was jammed by diverted traffic, so we went through Bishopsbourne, and if I was right, there should be a through road over the downs into Elham Valley and then again over more downs to Petham. That was the plan.

And it did work out, though the lanes were busy, but people were sensible, giving way at passing places. We drove down the less-travelled lanes, through woods and down narrow and twisty lanes, past crumbling farms and tiny villages.

But I was right, we came to Stone Street, and from there it was a short burn down to Petham, through the picturesque village and to Denge Wood.

It is quiet there now, just normally dog-walkers and horseriders normally, but we did find an elderly couple looking at butterflies down near Bonsai. The gentleman asked about the large orange butterfly that glided by. That's a Silver Washed Fritillary, I replied. How did I know? The size, colour and way it flew.

We let them be, the chap waving his camera at anything that moved, which is how I do it too.

Up the slope and past the reserve, where I had come to inspect four different Helleborine spikes, expecting them to be open. But these are taking their time, only now are their sparse spikes erect, pointing to the sky, and a few days from opening.

One was open, but clearly it was a BLH, not a hybrid. I snap it.

Jools finds another pale one down the lane. It looks pale, also has a lax spike, but looked pretty much a BH to me, and it was. But more orchid shots!

That done, we walked back to the car, passing no one at all.

There was the short drive to Barham as it is nearly Violet Helleborine time, and it was about time we checked on them.

It is a hike up the overgrown path, then up the short climb up the down, Jools was my sherpa carrying my tripod in case some were open.

The first visit of the season is always a worrying time; would we find any, would some of the trees have been cut down. In the end we found 34 spikes, none were open, so I told Jools to stop looking. Just more unfurling spikes would be found.

So we walked back to the car, downhill this time, it was ten to one, and we'd had no lunch. And we had to go Tesco for supplies.

Never go shopping hungry, you make bad choices. As well as stuff on the list, we buy two Belgian Choux buns, full of fresh cream. They would be fabulous later in the afternoon with coffee.

So it was nearly two when we got home, I make lunch of ham rolls, smothered with chili jam.

Yummy.

I write, edit shots and listen to the radio.

Time passes.

I make breaded chicken with crushed pistachio nuts, with noodles and stir fry.

It was magnificent.

And then there was football. On TV.

I watch half of Villa v Arsenal, which was OK, and won by Villa with ones of the goals of the season. But I am done by twenty past nine.

I go to bed. And don't think about football or Brexit any more.