Sunday 31st July 2022

The last day of July, and already you can tell its getting dark earlier, and on school morning, is still getting light at five when the alarm goes off.

Winter is coming.

But not yet.

After the non-stop adventures last weekend, the plan was to take things easy this Sunday.

So, we get up at half six, and after feeding the cats have the first coffee of the day.

I make first breakfast of fruit and yogurt.

I then have a shower before making another coffee and warming up the croissants for second breakfast.

I then go for a walk, on the hunt for a second sighting of the QoS. It was very windy, much more than expected. But sunny. So I harboured hope of butterflies sheltering in a hedge or in the lea of the wood.

I walk up Station Road, passing two groups of horses and riders, the larger of which I witnessed the leader giving the young girls a right telling off in the wood at Windy Ridge later.

I go to the top track, and cut along. At first not much to see, but as the hedges grew larger there more shelter, so I began to see a few Walls and Large Whites.

In fact the wind was from the west, and cut along the track, so there was little shelter really, until the very end and Green Lane bends to the left and is is proper shleter. And that is where there is a carpet of marjorum, and that is covered with more butterflies, including a few tatty Gatekeepers, some COmmon Blues ad even a couple of Brown Argus.

I pause at the bench, which is very warm as the breeze is from behind, so the high back makes a nice sun trap. Not much to see, just the field in front dropping down over Otty Bottom Road to the golf course beyond, and a few swingers were out and about. Swinging.

Maybe even hitting balls.

I walk down the long slope past the farm, then up to Fleet House. Just a short way along the path I see the familiar blur of motion of a hummingbird hawkmoth. As I watched it settled on a branch, so I krept forward to get some good macro shots of this incredible moth at rest, though its colourful underwings were well hidden.

What could top that?

Well, as I walked over the field, I saw a large orange butterfly cross in front of me. I knew it had to be a Clouded Yellow, not very rare, but rare enough to be worth a chase. And it settled on a few stems of lucerne in the field. I took shots hoping at least one would have a clearish view of the underwing markings.

I walk back to the path where a freshly emerged Painted Lady landed, sheltering out of the wind.

So I took many shots of that too, its colours glowing in the bright sunlight.

Back home to make lunch as Jen and Sylv were coming. Nothing fancy, just breaded chicken, new potaties and salad, but followed by tart. Limoncello and grappa tart, which would be their first taste.

Sylv is to go back north soon, but she is a drop of sunshine when she arrives, nothing seems to phase her, but her wayward son is a gambling addict and runs her ragged, so her part time job is to supprt him and his family. He says he's given up, but I don't think so.

Anyway, we have fizz, the chicken and salad. I then make brews and cut slices of the tart, which having rested for 24 hours since baking, it's flavours have matured. We have it with fresh cream and more rapsberries and is wonderful. Even if I say so myself.

And then it was time for the big game at Wembley: England v Germany.

Again.

But with women.

Gary Linaker said that football is 22 men running around after the ball and then Germany wins on penalties. But the women had not read the scipt, and played well, took the lead before half time and seemed to be cruising, only for Germany to get a leveller five minutes from time. Into injury time, and after scramble in the German box, England score the winner.

Scenes.

Great scenes.