Friday 25th March 2022

Is it really still March? It feels like the end of April, and that spring has been here for weeks.

In fact the endless glorious weather has been here for over a week and is set fair to last through the weekend.

We woke on Friday to mist, and the run rose like a Turner painting, all red and ill-defined, but soon the mist burned off, and the clouds cleared.

Situation normal.

I woke to the sound of the shower running, having slept through the aparm again, and Jools had to be out just after six for yoga. There was a coffee waiting downstairs, so get dressed and go down.

Wish a flourish, she leaves and I can then take the three bins to the top of the drive for collection later in the day. Back inside for a slice of toast, another coffee and be ready for whatever Friday would throw at me.

And what kept me going was the knowledge that come two when Jools came back home, we were off out on a short orchid hunt, at one, maybe two places. I had hopes we would find at least one species in flower.

The morning crawls into the afternoon. I have one more meeting, which everyone agrees on the proposal and so ends ten minutes early.

Enjoy the weekend I was told by my boss.

I'm sure I will, boss, sure I will.

Jools comes home, I had packed away the office already. We had a brew sitting on the patio, then grabbing my camera we drove along Reach Road to the National Trust place overlooking the harbour.

I was here to look for orchids, of course, but drama down below as truck driver queued for hours to wait to cross the Channel for the weekend. The port was rammed, as was the waiting area directly below, and I know more traffic waited to enter the town on the A20 and further way on the motorway, where Operation Brock was under way.

Jools stayed in the car to finish her book, I walked to the path to the cliff road to the spike that was most advanced on Sunday, and found it had hardly changed.

But I checked the others and found some growth, but not much.

I quickly walked back to the car, drove us out through the town and up the A20 towards Hythe, then up Stone Street to Earley Wood, where I had higher hopes that the Early Purples would be out.

We were the only ones there, with the sun low in the west, casting long shadows over the carpet of ameonies. We walked slow, looking hard for the green spotted leaves among the other woodland plants. But here again, rosettes wit spikes, but no flowers.

And no butterflies either.

But more and more bluebells out, their stems bent over by the weight of the flowers.

We were done for the day, time to get home for a brew, feed the cats and take part in the music quiz, before heading to Jen's for cards.

I came 9th in the quiz, which I am happy about, but should have won as I knew one of the early clues, but decided to wait.

Oh well.

It was still light when we drove to Whitfield, where pizza and wine was waiting for us, and the pizza home made, with lots of spicy beef.

Yummy.

And in a turn up, I had a good night winning the pot for Meld,a nd then scooping the kitty in Queenie for a run of three cards.

He's laughing now, said John.

He was right, but then it was about time we won.

I drive us home where it was bedtime, apparently.