Tuesday 7th September 2021

The sun now rises, just after seven, from out of the shadow on next door, meaning the deep red rays light up the house as I sup the first coffee of the day. With the days now warm enough to feel like high summer, the movement of Sol says the year is getting old. The air is still full of swallows, and first thing a bat flies by, heading back to its roost.

The day is now set.

And set to be warm. No hot. Even at half seven, it was over twenty degrees. And these last few nights, its almost been too warm to sleep. It's gonna be a hot one, best stay cool, peeps.

Which doesn't explain why I went out for a walk at midday. Mad dogs and Englishmen and all that, I suppose. But there is only so much stupid you can take before having to go out to clear your head, I suppose. I might look calm, but my brain is screaming.

Beofre then, I prepared the training material, the ontents of shich and it's intended audience shouldn't be needed, but is. I am chuckling to myself as I work on the slides at the hilarity of it all.

I pick a good half pound of raspberries from the garden for breakfast. I mix in the last of the strawberries and make a fresh coffee and listen to the radio, as the Guv'ner is back live in the studio, though I am listening to it 12 hours after broadcast.

I go out for a walk.

In the hope, though not expectation, of running into a Queen of Spain or Clouded Yellow. It was already hot, and all would be flighty, I might get lucky.

I change the route, walk up Station Road to the top track. You'l have to take my word for it, as the camera was on the wrong setting and so all shots taken were over exposed until I noticed the mistake in taking some macro shots later.

Not much to report, only that as a track much ess travelled, it was so overgrown as to be hardly passable, even for just a walker, tractors can come down here, and I suppose they would make it, but it looked impassable.

I see neither of the target species, but do spot a Large White feeding, hanging upside down. But I see the wings were wrong, and it was a female Brimstone. I never pass up the chance to snap one, so get some shots in the breeze on a mostly still day. I don't understand that either.

I walk back down from Windy Ridge, past the horse paddocks, to Collingwood and back home, in time for cold breaded chicken sandwiches and a pint of iced squash.

No one had missed me.

I carried on doing the presentation, and I learn some stuff.

I finish by three and send it off for comments. I tell myself I had done a good job and deserved to sit in the sun and read, so take the current issue of Rail and skim through it. I am up to date.

And hot.

At least dinner is to be simple, and mostly cold, with œufs écossais, salad, slaw and the rest of the boiled baby new potatoes.

It was a triumph.

The evening is taken with listening to the radio and watching Scotland play Austria in Vienna. It meant nothing to me.

Other than two Norwich players were on the pitch, and they played well, aand Scotland won, 1-0.

And so, Goodnight, Vienna.