Sunday 20th March 2022

Part two of the weekend.

And spring equinox. Light has triumphed once again.

The question was what to do with the day.

Well, Jools was going to go swimming and so I would get Jools to drop me off at the National Trust place and then walk back, hopefully geeting back at the same time. But instead, Jools said she would stay home and work in the garden. But would drop me off, and pick me up along the route if my fat little legs needed a rest.

We had a coffee, then she took me along Reach Road, dropping me off at the hairpin bend overlooking the habour, where the three P&O ferries were still tied up.

I had two tasks: First of all, looking at any queues or delays at the port and along Townwall Street, and then to check for orchid rosettes.

What I can say is that the port was very quiet. Almost Christmas Day quiet, though two ferries were in; one unloading and one loading. The one loading wasn't full, though the one unloading had lorries filling the open upper deck.

But the part was mostly like a ghost town, with berths empty and hardly any traffic waiting. Those that was unloaded only took ten minutes to empty, the port roads being busy for a short time then going quiet again.

I looked for rosettes, and found three close to the entrance, with three more further along, but none on the Cliff Road, which was a disappointment, as last year I found some very nice plants there. But not this time.

But one did have a spike forming, so maybe before the end of the month?

I hope so.

I walk along the lower path from the entrance, right on the edge of the cliff, but it was safe enough. From there, down the path to the Cliff Road, and from there, up and up, along the former inclined plane railway leading to the top of Langdon Hole. I could have taken the path down and then up along the cliff edge, but my knees said maybe not today.

I hear ya, knees.

There were a few couple out walking their dogs, some on leads, but other loose, and causing noise, so I was happy to leave them behind as I walked on and up.

I had the choice at the top of either taking the track back to the cliffs edge, or I could walk along the road to the lighthouse. I chose the latter so I could look at plants growing in the field margins, though I saw nothing really unusual, it was pleasant enough with the air filled with the song of skylarks.

I reached the lighthouse, and my back now had joined my knees in complaining. I tried to call Jools but got no answer, so walked on across the large field towards the village. When I reached the houses, Jools called telling me she would come to the car park near the church, I was just fine minutes away.

And as I reached the road to the car park, Jools came the other way, stopping so I could get in.

Back home we had a brew, and crossaints for a late breakfast. But soon thoughts turned to lunch.

Steak.

Not just steak, but cote de boeuf.

So large I got Mark to cut one in half, kinda. I had seasoned the meat before leaving, and now it was at room temperature and ready for cooking. I zap some spuds, chop them up for crunch chips, do some garlic mushrooms and boil some frozen corn. Finally cooking the steaks on the griddle pan. Jools uncorked the fizz, and I dished up.

Needless to say, the steak was glorious. And filling. We listen to the radio a while before clearing up, then struggle to stay awake through the afternoon.

There was football. There always is. I watched it, or my eyes did, it didn't sink in, but thinking hard, I watched Citeh thrash Southampton, the Spurs ease past West Ham. Both games were pretty good.

We had toasted saffron buns for supper with a brew, and with just #wildflowerhour to do before bed, the weekend had gone.