Saturday 27th February 2021

It am the weekend.

And there is two days to fill. The shopping has been done, we have enough birs seed and meat from the butcher.

The whole weekend is ours.

Jools had to wait in for the gardener to come round to price up a small job, so I could go out.

So, after coffee and criossants, Jools dropped me off at the very end of the Droveway, so to get to the Monument, I had to follow an unmarked, but well used track beside a field, then through a gate and across the common before arriving at the monument.

It was a crystal clear morning, no clouds, the sun had been up an hour, and although bright, was still only just above freezing. I walked to the bench beside the old Coastguard station, and take a few minutes to soak in the scene.

There was silence.

At the cliff edge, I could see down to the beach at the foot of the cliffs, it was low tide so the harder rock on which the chalk stands, was exposed. I searchfor orchids, and was rewarded with two well developed rosttes.

I snap them.

I take the cliff beside the cliff edge, remembering how freaked Tony would be, but its what he'd expect.

THere were few flowers to be seen out, the clifftops are exposed, and the tussock grasses were blown glat, all grey-green still from last year's growth.

I speak to a twitcher for a good quarter of an hour, swapping news of each of our passions, and the highlights of what we saw last year. I pointed out to me the breeding flight of a Meadow Pipit, gliding to a post to display, while behind us, a peregrine dived either for food or to impress a mate.

Beside the enxt bench, two clumps of dwarf irises had grown. Probably in memorial for some poor soul for whom the pains of life were too much, and found a way out here, at the cliffs. A sobering thought.

I walk to the boundary with Kingsdown, and instead of going to the Leas, I take the path beside the golf course, and keep to it all the way up to Barrow Down, half a mile away, and up a steady climb.

I rested on a bench, and took in the scene as the fields droped away to the cliffs, then climbed again to the right up to the monument. Behind me, the golf course was deserted, no flags fluttered at each hole, as golf is banned for the time being. Instead of the sounds of balls being whacked, skylarks sing with joy, ascending to the heavens.

I walk along the field and then through the metal gate into Barrow Down. Little is growing there either, but there are signs of growth.

From here it was pretty much downhill to the bottom of The Dip, alongKingsdown Road, dodging the cyclists out in huge numbers, before turning down the steep slope of The Dip.

It looked dry enough, but below the dried crust, there was mud, and I nearly lost my footing twice, but reached the bottom safely. From there it was up the short slope to Fleet House, then along to the track that passes the glade and to the fields and home.

I arrived back at half ten, warm enough, to learn I had missed two Commas in the garden, I still haven't seen a butterfly this year.

We have a squash on the wooden chair near the kitchen window. Despite it being still February, it was easily warm enough to sit outside. Birds fed from the feeders, while others got broody.

The walk had given me quite an appetite, so I make burgers, two of them, and what seemed to be at least 6oz patties. We have two each, and we stuffed.

At three, the football started, Norwich were not playing until Sunday, so it was low stress afternoon, watching one game, while listening to another and keeping an eye on the videoprinter. A perfect afternoon.

More football at half five, no idea who played, but it took two hours.

Outside the full moon rose into a jet black sky, and temperatures dropped to zero again.

Jools went to bed at half eight, I watched Newcastle v Wolves for a hour, so saw the Toon score, but not the Wolves leveller.

So it goes, so it goes.