Saturday 30th July 2022

Welcome to the weekend.

When Jools was swimming the other week, she mentioned to someone she was talking to, when told the other person had horses, that on her bucket list was grooming a horse.

So, that was easy to sort out, and so Saturday morning was when she went to Hougham to groom the horse.

That was after getting up and shopping, in which a weekely shop with nothing really out of the ordinary came to £140. There was no washing tablets, expensive bottle of booze, just two bottles of tripel at a fiver each and a bottle of very cheap fiz at six quid.

There were gaps on the shelves: bacon especially, but there was smoked streaky for our breakfast, which I get cooking once we're home.

And having eaten them, I say to Jools you go to Hougham and I'll wash up and stay here as I have the tart to make.

The tart.

Not just any tart, limoncello and grappa tart.

This is something that popped up in the Sunday Times magazine 20 years ago, and I make each year when raspberries are plentiful. I do cheat now and buy ready made pastry, that saves an hour.

I separate 12 eggs, saving the whites as I only need the yolks. I weigh out the sugar and ground almonds, then pour in the limoncello and grappa, add the eggs, then spoon the sugar, the almonds and finally the zest and juice of three lemons. I let that mix for five minutes.

I line the tin with pastry, pour in the punnet of raspberries, finally pour the mixture into the tin, covering the fruit. I ensure none is wasted.

Then into the oven for an hour or so, in the meantime I wash up, clear away and do the other things so that by the time the tart is cooked, the house is tidy, and I just wait for Jools to come home.

When she did, we have a cold drink, then I load up my cameras and we drive out to Barham for some orchiding.

Last weekend a friend in Lancashire said that having seen BLH that was now the last species he would see in his county, and we are nearly at the end here too, but there are four species I have yet to see. I took the decision not to go to Lullingstone this year to see the Green Flowered Disappointments. I was going to go last week, but chose to go to the Surrey Hills instead. It would have taken half an hour but time was tight, and I think I made the right call.

So three more, two Helleborines and the ALT to go. And I knew I would see the helleborines this day.

Up the lane towards where I hoped the Yellow birdsnest would have showed, but they failed totally this year, but a few weedy Broad Leaved Helleborines were worth the walk, and in remarkablly good light, I got some good shots of the spikes and flowers.

A drive two miles down the lane to Covet Wood, where we found the hard standing empty, no campers, happy or otherwise.

I had no idea whether we would find any at all here. Last year there was just a couple of spikes, the rest failed. So, only one way to find out.

A long slow walk along the narrow track, uphill all the way, and then up the steep slope into the beech wood.

We walk all the way thought the wood, the trees towering over us, somewhere, there should be orchids.

We walked to where we had found the very first VH clump what, six years ago? And they have vanished, like they were never there. I don't think they showed last year, either.

I knew where to look, however, and soon, just off the path I found a multi-stem spike, all in flower and looking fabulous.

We explored more and found a good half dozen clumps, maybe 30 spikes, and some to come into flower next week.

I turned to Jools and asked: fancy a pub lunch?

She did.

And as it happened, there was the Black Robin a five minute drive away.

After parking and walking through four motorbikes, we found a table on the veranda free, had an orange juice and lemonade each before we ordered a burger each. And a beer. Or cider.

And I can tell you, dear reader, the burgers hit the spot.

And on top of that, you'll be glad to hear, Saturday was the first day of the new football season. And I got us home in time to make a coffee and set up the radio to listen to the games.

Norwich are red hot favourites to go back up, so they, of course, lost at Cardiff 1-0, and were poor with it.

And then there was the Charity Sheild to watch, LIverpool v Citeh. Again.

A good game, lots of chances and very competitive for a "friendly". Pool won 3-1. Pep not happ with that. At all.

Friday 29th July 2022

41st anniversay of the wedding of Chaz and Di.

Once again I slept through the alarm, Jools was up and about as she was going to yoga and had to leave aby six. I woke up at ten to, JOols made me coffee. I was barely awake.

It was going to be a warm and sunny day, so chances of a walk were high.

Doubly so as a Swallowtail had been found over by the Monument last weekend, though no sign of it in our garden. And there seems to have been an influx of Queen of Spains, with sightings in Deal reported on Thursday. I am lucky in that I have seen one, you might have read about it, but always on the lookout for another. As you do.

I put the bins out and made a second coffee. There was a cat in each room, watching what was doing. Cleo only eats now if there is a kitty kibble hors d'oeuvre and only after crunching on them will she even consider looking at what is in her bowl. Poppy eats eveything put in front of her, pretty much, and looks up with wide eyes when she is chewing. I seem to have made a contact with her, about time as we come to the 2nd anniversary of us collecting them.

Mulder has cooled out about the cats, though seeing him "playing" with Poppy and imagine him hurting her, but I see Poppy swiping at his tail on occasion, so maybe i should let them get on with it. And turns out Scully just likes company, sitting between us on the double chair on the patio, laying against one of our arms.

I set up the office on the dining room table, and log on. After Windows update.

No new mails.

No meetings.

Just have to fill in my working hours.

I do that straight away.

I put on some music and the day gets under way.

So the day crawls on, but soon after lunch it will be the weekend.

That's the target.

Jools was going swimming after work, so I have time once work finished, so I put on my shoes and go for a walk.

I was hoping with the sun out, weather warm and little wind there would be butterflies.

And indeed there were.

First one was along the lane from the end of our street, a freshly emerged Holly Blue on ivy, it even stays still to allow me to get shots.

It is very warm, almost hot, too hot for a walk really, but its been a while.

I go down past Fleet House, down past the farm and up the long walk to Windy Ridge, not many butterflies there, but along Green Lane in front of the wood, there would be a sun trap, and hopefully plenty of the fluttery bastards.

I pause on the bench, now with memorials to the farmer who used to love this view, now gone.

I walk one, reach the wood, and indeed there are many, many butterflies for a change.

Gatekeepers, Large Whites, but a Small Heath, and frther along lots of Common Blues too, and a Speckled Wood settled nice for a shot, and then there were the dozens of Walls leaping up from the path ahead. One even allowed me to take a shot too.

I reach the track back down to Collingwood, so make my way home.

I had seen no Queens, nor any Brown Argus either.

Back home I drank some iced squash on the patio, and see butterflies among the long grass of the meadow. I went over to investigate and found Common Blues, but there was somethign else too. Smaller. At least three Brown Argus, in our garden all the time!

I get shots.

Jools returns home and we have a coffee, Scully laying between us.

Purring.

At six I do the music quiz and came 5th, so overal I was 4th, but no prize, but my best ever showing.

We then go to Jen's for cards, and pizza and beer before.

I made do with a bottle of Chimay Grande Reserve which went down very, very well indeed.

As did the pizza.

We then played cards. Sylv had been plied with wine through the afternoon and was tipsy.

And loud.

We helped her play at times, when she won.

But John won again. Sigh.

And Jools brought us home as darkness fell.

Two elections

In order to be elected leader of the Conservative and Union party, both candidates must pander to the Brexit fantasies of its membership, where everything is still in the 1950s and the Empire still rules the world.

A worldview that takes into account nothing of so-called experts.

So, to be elected, Truss and Rishi must promise to do all what Johnson did, but harder with more cruelty.

Once elected, one of them will have to face the reality, the reality that Brexit involves compomise and negotiations.

That what sounds good when speaking to the windowlickers is poison to exports, the economy and national interest.

One had hoped that common sense would have broken through by now, but as we have been waiting for the six years since the referendum for that, and its still not cut through, I suppose another few months or years is fine.

For the new leader there is the crisis of Brexit, COVID, Russia and the cost of living.

Sunak is the most compitent, but is poison to the national electorate as he was fined for attending Johnson's birthday party.

Truss barely knows her own name, and is donning Thatcher's "fashions" to pander to the Party membership.

John asked me which one of the two I preferred.

I refused to choose as I don't have a vote.

But you have to choose one, he said.

No I don't, they're both shit.

And there we are.

Up shit creek without a shit paddle.

And at the end of the day, are either one of them electable? I don't think so, not with the cost of living crisis coming this winter. The Tories have been in power twelve years and all the blame for the crisis is with them. On top of that, they took the country out of the EU making all the issues even worse.

The Olympic Legacy

At the beginning of July 2005, London was awarded the 2012 games over Paris, mainly due to the "legacy" that the UK promised the games would bring after the event.

Construction of the stadia and facilities went pretty flawlessly, and the games opened on time with all work completed.

The UK had their best games for over a century.

And there was that Olympic legacy to keep the Olympic flame alive.

The athletic stadium in Stratford was sold off, cheaply, to West Ham.

Don Valley Stadium in Sheffield was allowed to be razed.

Funding for sports that were "underperforming" was cut by 100%.

Its impossible to say had the legacy been in better hands with a Labour Government, but under the coalition and then the Governments of Cameron, May and Johnson, like most public spending, that on sports was slashed too. Odd then that Johnson was Mayor of LOndon at the time, and lapped up the publicity.

The games now seem like the high point of life in the UK post-Thatcher, and now we are on a long slow painful decline, overseen by politicians who know the cost of everything but the value of nothing.

Thursday 28th July 2022

A day in which I actually achieved something in work.

I mean, I spoke to someone and they shared actual knowledge and evidence, putting my concerns at rest.

I mean, something like that every day would be nice.

I managed to sleep throug the alarm again and slept to quarter to seven, by which time Jools was dressed and ready to go to work, she had already hung the washing out, I had yet to sip my first coffee.

It is bright out, but due to cloud over, and that wind is cool. Once Jools has left I close the back door, make a second coffee and once that is in the cup, I set up the office and so prepare for the first meeting of the day.

Not much to report, really.

Meetings.

Mails.

People still on holiday and the meetings I organise are not as important as the ones of those I invite: please re-arrange.

So I do.

The days passes and I fail to go for a walk. Again.

Bad me.

But I have to be ready to cook dinner early as we have to be out at six fifteen sharp, so I rustle up a batch of fritters and had finished cooking them when Jools came home.

We eat, wash up and are ready to go out on time.

We had to go to Thanet on a personal matter, nothing to worry about, but was a hospital appointment. At Seven twenty in the evening.

No, me neither.

So, we drove up to Sandwich, then to Ramsgate and through Westwood Cross to the hospital.

Jools went into AandE for a bathroom break, and repoerted that all sorts of humanity were represented, and there was security inside the waiting area.

We have the appointment, so drive back in the golden gloaming, as the wind had dropped and the sun came out. But I still wasn't disposed to go to the fair in Walmer.

Oh no.

Wednesday 27th July 2022

Pay day. And hump day. We are now in the 25th week of the annual holiday season in Denmark. There is just me and a guy in Taiwan running the whole company at the moment. Would anyone notice if I wasn't here? Who knows. Water actually fell from the sky. Rain. Cats came in wet, shook themselves near me, and go out again. Rinse and repeat. Jools went swimming at six, and I slept until I heard her leave in the car. Must be time to get up! It would be just a half day at work as we were having a long promised high tea with our friends, Gary and JUlie, in thanks for them looking after the cats in 2019 when we did a series of overnight trips so they came to feed the cats. And then along came COVID and isolation and we put off and put off the meeting. Into 2022, and there was a holiday for me, then orchid season, Gary went away. Twice, Julie went to Greece. And then the Dining Club brochure came round and there was a high tea event. So, we booked. In the event, Jools leaving work at quarter to one, driving home, get changed and us get to Deal to find a parking space and meet up with Gary and Julie outside the Just Reproach at twenty to two, would be tight. Even worse that with a train strike, the car park was full, so I dropped Jools off and I said I would find a spot somewhere else. In the event, just near to the end of the pier I got the one free space, paid to park, and cut through an alleyway and met up with the others. We walked to the Club, we shown to our table and a huge pot of tea brought. And so began the tea ceremony; me stiring the bags in the pot at regular intervals, then pouring a little in each cup, and again and again in roation so we all get the same strength brews. Though Jools had fruit tea. First up was a selection of three finger sandwiches, which made for a whole one, if that makes sense so there was no worry about eating too much. Then came Pimms flavoured scones, minted strawberry jam and Pimms flavoured double cream. And more tea. Lots more tea. Finally, a selection of four cakes, including something called Tottenham cake. Which was fine. The other three tarts were all too sweet really. We took two home each to have for our supper. We bid Gary and Julie goodbye, then Jools and myself walk to No Name Shop to get some cheese for supper. Three small cheeses and two baguettes came to £19. But it was pay day. We walked back to the car, drove home past the fair set up on the green in Walmer. It was already booming out Europop and other stuff. Must be hell for the locals. I thought about comeing one evening for photography...... We got home, I made a coffee, and we chilled out. Jools did beading. I wrote a blog and so was ready for when the second semi-final started. I wasn't going to watch it all, but did, so was very sleepy at ten when Germany ran out winner, so will now play England in the final.

Ten years on

Wednesday saw the tenth (10) anniversary of the opening ceremony of the Olymic Game in London.

At the time I wrote:

"But before then was the opening ceremony itself, as seen through the mind of Danny Boyle; there was fields, Glastonbury Tor, a cricket match, the industrial revolution, war, the NHS, children’s literature the Queen and James Bond parachuted into the stadium (again), Arctic Monkeys and Paul McCartney. It was brilliant, left of centre, left of politics (if you’re a conservative MP or Mit Romney) and took my breath away on many occasions. At the end, David Beckham drove a speedboat up the Thames and passed the flame onto Sir Steve Redgrave and he ran into the stadium, and in a surprise, passed that onto seven young athletes who ran round to light the 204 copper urinals which rose up to form a cauldron of flame."

The day after, I wrote:

"As far as real negative stuff about the games, that has come from Republican Presidential nominee Mit Romney who made some rather disparaging remarks about the games only to get bitch-slapped by socialists, David Cameron and Boris Johnson. Of course they are not socialist, but conservative with a huge capital C, but even they seemed to enjoy the ‘I love the NHS’ section of the opening ceremony and probably will announce that the plans to sell off parts of the NHS to their friends is to be abandoned at the soonest."

Turns out this was the highpoint in liberalism in the UK. Because as much as I and Jools love the ceremony, Cameron and Joson and other twats on the Conservative right and extreme right were making their plans.

Pretty much all of what Danny Boyle lauded in that opening ceremony has been trashed and underfunded, bitch-slapped, bad-mouthed and blamed for its own failings whilst the Conseravtive Governments have underfunded to undermine, then use their failure as a pretext for privatisation.

It is the Right's way.

In those ten years, Cameron, May and Johnson have trashed what made us proud to be British, UK citizens, and they are now hell-bent on destroying and selling off what's left.

And they feel no shame in what they have done. Because they will do just fine, they will look after each other, make each other rich, give each other jobs or seats in the Lords.

While the rest of us will either starve, freeze to death or a combination of both. Energy is now expected to top £500 for the month of January alone.

Meanwhile, Rishi wears Prada.

Tuesday 26th July 2022

Tuesday. Back to work.

The Scandinavian endless summer vaction goes on and on. At least my new boss is back after he moving his family from a picturesque Swiss village to Hamburg. I told him, no amount of money would have been enough for me to move from there.

Anyway.

I am bushed. No amount of sleep would have been enough. And these short summer nights mean I was awake before five as usual.

So, up at five fifteen. And we have coffee.

I have another coffee.

So I am just about ready for work at seven.

Not much has happened other than my travel expesnse for £0.00 has been rejected for "reasons". I mean why do I have to submit a report for literally nothing? If I don't they will block my credit card and I won't be able to travel any more.

I see no downsides to that situation if I'm honest.

I stare at the reporting tool and if I'm honest, I have no idea.

It is cool and breezy. And if I'm honest, I can't be arsed to go for a walk. Between working, I mess around online, listen to music and so the day passes.

Being back home, I am at the beck and call of our four feline masters, and they know how to get my attention so I give them kitty kibbles to get peace and quiet.

The post brings a new memory card for my primary camera. Te old one is falling to lieces, so I fear for my camera when I push the old one in. This is a massive upgrade in downloading time. Though it wo't make my pictures any better, but should be able to shoot more shots with my finger on she shutter.

Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

I pack up at three, and should have done something. I do some vacuuming in the dining room, so at least I did something.

Dinner is caprese, and we have leftover focaccia from Sunday.

What the heck, I have wine and Jools has cider.

For the evening there is the first semi-final in the women's Euros; England v Sweden, which would be England's thoughest test.

Or should have been.

But England score just before half time, and get a second just after half time, and then the magic as Alessia Russo scores with a backheel through the goalkeepers legs. One of the greatest goals of all time, in either the men or women's game. And England wrap it up with a lobbed fourth to cruise into the final.

Wow.

Monday 25th July 2022

I knew the weekend was going to be tough.

But Monday was going to be the worst.

After two large Mai Tais the night before, and less than six hours of broken sleep. I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw two bloodshot eyes staring back at me.

Oh God.

At least there would be a heary breakfast.

So, at seven I go down and have orange juice, and another fry up with sausage, bacon, black pudding, mushrooms and a fried slice.

And coffee.

Not as much as I needed. But it would do.

Now.

A couple of months ago, I bumped into a member of my orchid group, Graham, at PGD, and he introduced me to his friend, another Graham, and Graham 2 asked f I was going to see the Irish Lady's Tresses.

I was.

He would have a camper van, but was staying near the bog, could I give him a lift so he didn't have to take his van and disabled wife.

I would.

That was two months ago. Now it was the day, and all I had was a postcode and his phone number. But I also had plenty of time. So, after loading up the car, I said goodbye to Bob and Cath after paying the bill, and programed the reserve and then the camp site as a stopover.

I had an hour, but on these Welsh roads, it could take longer.

To add to the dram of the day, it was overcast and drizzling. The valleys would remain green.

Apparently.

I went to Welshpool, then to Newtown, along the bypass and towards the coast. Stuck behind a train of flatbed lorries, I made steady if unspectacular time. At least the road ran beside the railway, so I knew I was heading in the right direction.

After passing through a small gorge, I came to where the postcode said the camping site should be. And it was. I drove in and parked up and called Graham 2.

There was no signal.

I tried again. And again.

No luck.

Maybe, if i go to the top of the site I could get a signal?

So, up the camping site, passing vans and tents until I got to the very top.

And after a couple of minutes, I got a signal and called Graham 2. He picked up and had seen me drive by, so I went to pitch 22 and there he was, standing at the door of a very small camper. Inside were his wife and three dogs. I went in for a brew, and stodd as most flat surfaces was taken with dogs and their beds.

We left at just gone nine, a 40 minute drive to Borth, beside the railway again.

Our joining instructions mentioned a cafe nearby, so we called in there for another brew and for me a slice of fruit cake. I thought I'd check my phone for news, but again no signal.

We left for the final two mile drive at twenty past ten, being the second car to arrive, we were sent down the track to the small parking area.

We were here to see an orchid called Irish Lady's Tresses, which had been found on the site in 2019, which for the species tick meant not having to go to Ireland. We will get to Ireland at some point, but it would be longer than a day trip.

In the bog beyond the gate was a small area surrounded by an electrified fence, and in there was over 20 small orchids. We had to wait for the warden to disarm the fence, but a few plants were near enough to get half decent shots.

Once the warden arrived, as well as other HOS members, we were allowed inside the fence. A rope was placed over whch we were not to step, but was close enough to get fine close ups of the orchid spikes.

We take turns in getting shots, some more serious than others. I get mine, so after twenty minutes I say to Graham 2, shall we go?

We shall.

Once back in the car, I program the camp site back in and we set off, down the track to the lane, and from there began the long journey home.

Graham 2 used to be an auditor, so we swapped auditor horror stories until I dropped him off, and there was peace and quiet in the car. I had no idea how long the drive back would be, I though I'd do well to be home by eight, the sat nav said ten past five.

Let us see.

I drove back the same way I had drove that morning, back alomost to Oswestry before picking up the A5 and at that point the road improved, and I could make good time.

Toe Telford and the start of the motorway, passing RAF Cosford where I had spent 28 months of my life in two spells of training in the RAF. Just a museum now, it seems.

I cut across to the toll road again, as the services on it are better and quieter than others, and worth the six quid for the 30 mile drive.

I stopped to fill up and buy lunch: a pasty, Snickers and vanilla diet Coke. Nearly £90 to fill up now.

Eeek.

Back on the motorway, eating as I went, heading south onto the M6, and then cutting across on the A14 passing Northampton and Cambridge before picking up the M11.

All was going well until the road from Norwich, the A11, joined and there was a ten minute hold up before I got through.

And as I went further south the weather got better and better. I had Craig on the radio, and so the journey sped by.

Over the Dartford Crossing and onto the A2, and all seemed to be going well.

I was getting close to home, though slow traffic meant it would be nearer six when I should have got home.

That was until I reached the turn off to Dover at the end of the motorway, and a shunt on the slip road meant I decided to head along Thanet Way rather than wait in traffic, only to be caught in another jam near to Whitstable.

I turned off to Canterbury, hoping to either go through Fordwich or along to Grove Ferry. As there had just been a train and traffic was bad, I went to Grove Ferry, then across the marshed to Preston.

Jools called: could I get dinner on the way?

Yes.

So, I went to Deal hoping to find a chippy to park outside. The ones on the Stand had camper vans parked outside, but the one in Walmer had spaces, and a full shelf ofready cooked food. I got batter sausage and chips, twice, added salt and vinegar, which were then wrapped.

I called Jools: I'll be five minutes, so she made brews, so once parked on the drive we could sit down and eat.

I was shattered.

I checked my shots from the two days, edited one for each day, and I was done.

Time for bed.

Heroes and villans

Two year ago, for thirteen Thursday evenings in a row, The Prime Minister and his then partner stood on the steps of 10 Downing Street, applauding Doctors, Nurses, other NHS workers and essential workers.

Two years on, those self same essential workers are now striking for a livable wage, and people like Robothatcher, Liz Truss are stating they are going to make their striking in the future against the law.

I had hoped that the pandemic meant we realised we valued everyone in society, but that hope was in vain

. Apparently there is no money. That comes after Dido Harding "spent" £37 billion on test and trace, and tens of billions more given in dodgy PPE contracts.

That's why there's no money.

And so the Government are happy pitting one set of underpaid workers against the others.

This is what levelling up really means. Another empty Tory phrase.

Nothing you can feed your kids with, or pay your rent with.

But have this badge.

And that'll cost you a fiver.

Sunday 24th July 2022

When you arrange things, sometimes you forget how they will impact your life.

I mean, when I booked to go on the railtour, I didn't realise it would mean 20 hours spent travelling. And then having booked to go on an orchid site visit the day after the railtour I would drive over four hours back to Wales, and then on Monday drove the hour to the site, then have nearly six hours to drive home.

In the school holidays. And with traffic chaos in and around Dover still.

That was my choice.

THe reality was that there would be little time for rest, always on the move. Although on the railtour I would be sitting for the duration of the trip, looking out the window, so not doing anything other than looking for things to photograph, but 90 minutes driving before and after it.

So, Sunday morning.

And we had the chores we failed to do Friday and Saturday: washing, shopping, clearing up, before I would leave at one in the afternoon. One thing I learned for JOols is to prepare, so when she went to the beach for a swim, I had a shower, then packed my overnight bag, wrote down postcodes, directions and details of my stopovers, charged camera batteries.

The car was running on fumes, so we went out at ten to fill it up, now costs £90 from empty. And get wild bird food.

Back home for lunch of caprese, I had even made time to make a small focaccia loaf, which I popped in the oven, so come midday it was done and we could listen to Desert Island Discs while eating. It was Kate Moss, the model, and well, her life seemed so shallow. Name dropping inbetween tales of how she was exploited. She seems to have found happiness, which I guess is what we all deserve.

So, at one I packed the car and set off, having to get through the traffic chaos. In fact it wasn't too bad, but I still avoinded the port and Townwall Street, driving towards Whitfield before heading down the Alkham Valley. I only just made the turn as a lorry had sideswiped a Nissan Micra, and blocked the rest of the roundabout.

I turned off, unaffected, and was soon enjoying the open road driving towards Folkestone. THe on ramp to the A20 was open, and no traffic to really hold me up. On the other carriageway, no cars were allowed on the motorway after Maidstone Services, all traffic being sent down the A20, and that road was at a standstill. My worries already were of the journey back on Monday.

NO problems in etting to the top of the motorway before turning west and the M25. Traffic was heavy, and slow in places, bbut I had a layover planned, and a meet up with a fellow orchidist to see a new species for me.

There are between 50 and 60 orchid species, and I have seen many of them, so the weekend was offering me the chance to see two new species. The first of which was the one we had looked for the weekend before, Narrow Lipped Heleborine.

I turned off the motorway and was soon heading down leafy lanes, which partially hid what used to be called the stockbroker belt houses; huge mansions with electronic gateways, where money buys you privacy in a country mansion. The villages were pretty enough, and the chuches, none of which I had time to stop and look at. Nor the wooden village water well I passed either, even if it looked photogenic and ancient.

I had agreed to meet with Richard between half two and three, so after finding the car park for the reserve, I tried to call him, but turned out his phone had no signals. So I tried to make sense of my scrawled directions, with no luck.

I was in the process of calling other friends who had visited, when Richard called back.

He would come and meet me, he confirmed which path to take, so I wandered off and straight away came to a what was clearly an orchid rich area under huge beech trees and deep in leaf litter. Small orchid spikes dotted the woodland floor, and these were the Narrow Lipped Hellebories.

Richard came and showed me the best spikes, the hot weather had fried many of the others, but there were more than enough to snap.

We carried on walking, and came to a clearing where there were a good few Braod Leaved Helleborines, some were partially baked, but still had flowers, and were being visited by drunken wasps.

Time was getting on, so I had to say my goodbyes to Richard and make my way back to the car.

I programmed in the hotel address, and the sat nav guided me west through yet more picturesque and exclusive villages to the A3, then a short blast to the roundabout at Wisley and onto the M25 again, having missed out several busy junctions on my detour.

Almost straight away, the sunny day was shrouded in thick smoke as another heath fire had broken out to the south, so traffic slowed to a crawl through the poor visibility, everything tinged with brown and even the smell of burning made it into the air conditioning.

But at Heathrow, I got through the smoke, and clear blue skies were overhead once more. And through the final jam, I made my way over to the slow lane to take the slip road to the M40 and head north at last.

This isn't the quickest route, but it is less busy, and there is always the delight of seeing dozens of Red Kites hunting on the way.

I made good time, speeding north, past Oxford and Bicester, pressing on towards Birmingham.

Where, I decided I knew better than the sat nav, and rather than take the M6, I went on to go up the toll motorway, which has lighter traffic, only having to cut through a small village to get back onto the M54 west to Telford and Shrewsbury beyond.

I had the radio on, and on Tom Robinson's show, he played all the tracks from The Streets' first album, which amazingly is 20 years old this week. Still sounds as fresh as it did then, and I learned made using free software on a laptop under a blanket in his wardrobe(!) to muffle sounds as he had no studio.

Weak become heroes indeed.

Shrewsbury bypass is all roundabouts, but at six on a Sunday evening traffic is light, so made good time, and at the last one was the sign to Knockin, the village before the hotel.

THe hot and sunny weather had given way to clouds and even showers, it felt and was cooler, yet the car told me it was still 24 degrees outside.

I arrived at the hotel just after seven, Bob gave me a hug and poured me a pint of dark mild.

That went down well.

So downed two more as I ate dinner of chicken Kyiv and chips.

I was suddenly very tired, I said I was going to my room for a lay down, but to give me a knock if he wanted to have a drink later, not thinking he would.

And hour later there was a knock, so I went down and made two Mai Tai's vanish as we chatted and joked.

I climbed back up to my room at half eleven, so very tired.