Sunday 14th March 2021

Mothering Sunday (UK only).

And Jools and I have neither parents anymore, but we have a Mother; Jen. We bought her flowers and a card and also invited her to lunch on Sunday.

What jolly nice people we are. But then so is Jen.

It was supposed to be cloudy, but clearly no one told Mother Nature, and it dawned clear and fresh, with the wind dropping through the day.

We get up and after feeding the cats, have coffee. Breakfast and another coffee.

Shall we go out?

Indeed we shall.

Just for a walk, the usual route over to Fleet House, then past the farm and onto Windy Ridge, through the wood and back home.

Out before nine to hunt for the first butterfly of the season.

Even after the rain the previous day's rain, the ground was mostly still hard ground, with water and mud gathering in dips and depressions, but there were ways round or through the water obstacles.

Out over the fields, where very few flowers showing, despite Spring being well under way in the garden.

No pigs as yet in the copse as yet, and a look round the corner showed the largest mud pool at the bottom near to the entrance to the farm.

Its a bit of a climb from the farm to the wood, and recent rain had turned the track into a riverbed, with the flow having created streambeds, which exposed the chalk below. Now bone dry, of course.

As I walked up, the view away to Kingsdown and the Channel beyond opened out, revealing that the Pringles were still not allowed to play golf.

Through the wood, where I find zero woodland plants in flower, nor any fungii, not even an old King Alfred's Cakes.

Just mud.

I leave the wood to walk on the rutted track, hoping to see an early butterfly basking.

I see none.

Down the final stretch back to Collingwood, a Yellowhammer lands in front of me, a perfect shot. If I had the big lens. I take one with the macro and hope it'll be OK with a heavy crop.

So it goes, so it goes.

I get home first, as Jools was litter picking, and I me not dawdling meant I have to sit outside for ten whole minutes she she had the door key. But it means I sit and watch the birds feeding in the bush. I'll take one for the team.

We are back in time for midday because Norwich are on the tellybox again, away at Sheffield Wednesday, and a chance for an eighth win in a row.

Fancy that.

We were back in time for Desert Island Discs on Radio 4, which I listen to while reviewing my shots.

At midday I put on the telly, and there is Noriwch in high definition, passing the ball about. To the other team.

Sigh.

1-0 down at the break.

First half we were poor, was always going to be a different story in the second half, and so it was. Although it seemed forced until Pukki popped up in the box and blasted the ball into the roof of the net.

And ten minutes later, Emi breaks up an attack, passes to Todd in the box, who controls it with his right, swings his left foot and the ball sails into the top far corner.

YES!

And that is how it ends. Eight in a row. Ten points at the top, ten games to go.

Jen arrives as the final whistle goes, so I get busy in the kitchen making chorizo hash for the three of us.

We soon are eating and drinking well, toasting Jen once again.

No time for cards, as there was the North London Derby to watch, Arse v Spurs, and Spurs very very spursey, really. Scoring first then playing negative and lsoning 2-1. Again, there were no fans to watch the spectacle.

Sadly.

That just leaved a ham roll to prepare and eat before the evening spent on Twitter for #wildflowerhour.