Saturday 5th September 2020

The weekend arrives.

At last.

Though, with my workload and watching Le Tour in the afternoons, it has been a pleasant week.

But with Jools back at work, if only for two weeks, she has to also work on Fridays, which means that the usual shopping trip to Tesco has to be squeezed into our weekends, which involves going to Tesco at eight, to go round and gather our food and victuals for the week ahead.

So, after coffee and feeding the army of cats, we drive to Tesco, don our masks and get a trolley, scanner and start hunting, gathering. I hunt the final three big bottles of tripel, And, I say I will make our Christmas cakes this week, so we get all the ingredients for the two Dundee Cakes.

One thing is clear, we are good at spending money. Which is good that we received the final statement on our mortgage; we owe nothing any more, we are mortgage free for the first time for both of us since the nineties. Its still a fact we are still trying to get our heads round. Though it wil only bring good things in the months and years to come. The bank said now we don't have a mortgage we might like to take out a loan....

We don't plan on taking any more loans out.

After we had finished in Tesco, we go to Deal to try to buy bacon at the Black Pig. There is nothing like proper bacon, and they do splendid bacon, but there has been supply problems, so there have no bacon. I make do with Italian spiced chipolata sausages instead, and a rack of lamb for Sunday dinner.

As short walk away is No Name Shop, and their cheese from last week was so good I have to buy more. I also find their apricot tarts irresistible, so buy us one each.

We try to have breakfast out with the half hour we had remaining on the parking ticket. We go to a former pub and take a seat in the garden. We wait and wait, but no one came to take our order, so we have no choice but to leave without breakfast.

Back home I cook the sausages for butties, along with a huge brew. Sausages straight out of the pan, so hot the butter on the bread melts and turns the bread to mush. Just as it should be.

Perfect.

We quickly tidy up and are out again, this time to the cliffs.

There are always things to see out in the countryside, so a walk is never wasted. But this time I would be looking for the small Autumn Gentian, a perfect little flower, and also search for migrant butterflies; Clouded Yellows, Long Tailed Blues and maybe record the first Southern White in the country?

Maybe not.

We find a parking space at the Dover Patrol, meaning I could go and check for out most local Autumn Lady's Tresses. I have fought with Dover District Council and their mowers for many years, and now I have given up, having found the large colony up on Temple Ewell Down, but as I was here.

I find about 25 spikes, some good sized, and others already going to seed.

Happy with that, I walk to the cliffs to take a shot of the edge of England, then set off down the path towards Kingsdown. I see a few butterflies: Small Coppers, Large and Small Whites, a few tatty Blues, maybe Common and Adonis. But nothing that rare, certainly none of my primary targets.

Just into Kingsdown I find the Gentians. I knew they were there, and there are not that many, the largest group in fairly long grass, but the blue flowers reaching for the sky, and were open in the bright sunshine. I lay down to get shots.

Further along I look for the Long Tailed Blues in the Everlasting Pea, but there wasn't a sign. I don't go to the largest clump, I am guessing there will be a native brood hatching in a week or two, I will return then.

I turn for the monument, back up the gently sloping cliffs, building to quite a climb towards the monument.

My back was complaining fairly hard by the time I climbed in the car, but still I had done what I set out to do. Which is good.

I drive back home where Jools was waiting having walked back from Kingsdown so she could gather yet more sloes for friends this time.

We have cheese and bread, another baguette I made on Friday, warmed up, and washed down with the remaining tripel from the previous day.

It is then an afternoon on the sofa as I watch Le Tour in the Pyrenees. I struggle to stay awake as the riders labour up and cruise down a series of mountains.

There is just time at the end of the race to have a shower and get dressed before we go out for an evening of cards.

We collect John, who tells us someone has sent him 18 Christmas cards during the week, and none with messages. He is struggling to work out who it was. I manage to keep my poker face straight.

For now.

Betty is improving. She has carers come in four times a day, and she is now making conversation and able to watch the US Open on a tablet. She is OK as long as there is someone with her, when left alone she calls out until someone goes, and then she can't remember what she wanted.

It is difficult for Jen and Sylv to deal with, but they know she is better at home rather than in a care home, so they live with it.

We try to play cards. Try. Sylv is the salt of the earth, do anything for anyone, but is disorganised, life seems to be a constant struggle with understanding, so a complicated game of cards is trouble. And her asking questions, inability to arrange her hands into suits slows the game down to a deathly crawl.

At least Queenie was better, and to cap the evening, Sylv wins all three pots winning several pounds, in pennies.

Sigh.

We leave for home with the waning moon having risen, bright yellow in colour, and one edge in shadow. Mars is next to it, a red dot against the black sky.