Thursday 29th September 2022

I am taking a week off at the end of this week, so I am counting the hours and minutes until I can not think about work for a week. Not that it is bad, really. I am not overworked, I am not stressed, but failing to, mostly, feel like I am making a difference.

Can I keep this up for the remaining 34 months and three weeks until I can (hopeflly) retire?

Maybe.

I still am not sleeping too well, but didn't feel quite as bad as the day before, so was ready when worked called at seven, and I logged on..

My boss is off, and I am up to date with my tasks, so all there is to do really is travel expenses. Which like always is never as bad as you think it will be. Doubly so when after a few failed attempts you get to know what you're doing.

I had tred to scan my receipts the day before, but although the scanner powered up and made the usual noses, the computer could not detect it. The HP utilities could see it, but even after two hours spent updating drivers and so on, still no work. SO I resorted to using my compact camera, only to discover that the was a 4MB limit on files sizes.

How difficult could it be to reduce the size of the files to less than 4MB?

Very difficult it seemed, with neither of the two simple editing tools on my work PC having that capability, so I had to do it via my editing tool on my home PC and resend the shots.

Then I got it done.

I click the submit button and job done.

Phew.

So I make a brew and have a brew to celebrate.

In the afternoon I went for a walk, to get steps in and to get a shot for the day. Only think I do get was a shot of a fresh male Common Blue among the lucerne.

Click.

Jools had said a couple of nights ago that we, I, was getting set in our, my, ways. And we should push against that. Which is why after dinner of fritters we went out to Walmer for a pub quiz.

We have not done one since the Harbour Board club closed before Tony died. So, we are out of practice. I booked a table, well, space at the bar, so we arrived at half seven, and watched as the other teams arrived and members met up.

Also, the venue, The Lighthouse, had Old Dairy Green Hop Brown Ale on tap, and I wanted to try that, which I did, and was very nice.

We did OK over the eight rounds: general knokledge, two music rounds, one on mystical weapons among others. We finished 4th from last, but were a team of two, while others had up to eight members.

It was good to be out, although we got back at half ten, 90 minutes past our bed time.

Belief and beliefs

Through Brexit and beyoond, we have always assumed that there was smoe arching plan behind it all.

I mean all that pain, the lies.

Giving the Monarch unlawful advice.

Trashing the economy.

Leaving European and international institutions.

Trashing industrial sectors.

Shortage of labout in several other sectors.

Ruination of our international reputation.

And so on and on. I mean, there must be something behind it?

They can't just be incompetent, can they?

Chris Grey's Brexit blog is always worth reading, and he follows the ebbs and flows of Brexit and beyond more and closer than most, me certainly, and he is convinced they just don't have a clue.

But they have beliefs.

THese beliefs may be wrong. And the more "experts" say how wroong they are, the harder they believe in them and harder they try to enact them.

Sadly, it makes all too much sense. That the country is the test lab of some failed A Level economics students who think they have knowledge greater than the experts in trade and economics, and so the more those experts tell them they're wrong, the more they want to do it.

Brexit, on any level, has failed.

The promises made during and after the referendum have all faded to dust. Far from being better off, far from those sunlit uplands, far from there being considerable upsides, any benefits now are some time, many years or decades in the future. Or even we may never know it has been a success or not.

Even then, when they were so sure they were right, they refused to have impact assessments done, like last week when the Chancellor refused to allow the OBR to do them for his "fiscal event", which will now be done by next Friday.

And when some expert or organisation says something to disprove either Brexit or their "plan for growth", dismiss it as project fear, or remainers or some kind of "blob", or left wing liberal elite.

It is mad.

And yet has happened.

As a country, we are still not rid of the Tufton Street Experiment, Truss is PM, and the lady is not for turning, apparently. Despite her 8 (eight) car crash interviews on BBC local radio yesterday morning where there was as much silence as words from the PM, and then she either lied about the energy cap or did not understand what it was, in that its not an actual cap, but would limit costs for the average household to £2,500, but if you use more, you pay more.

Simple.

Those linked to Brexit and Tufton Street are now shrilling that Brexit and the plan for growth are great after all and Truss should hold her nerve.

Despite Labour recording its largest ever lead in the polls last night at 33%.

With some models having the Tories only winning 61 seat. Others had them winning just two. In Scotland.

Letter of no confidence have gone in.

The BoE is propping up the pound until Parliament returns after the Conservative Party Conference, at which point it will be up to the PM and Chancellor to prove to the markets that either they know better or change course.

Of course, it is ironic, that these so-called free-market thinkers, who spent the last six cheers saying how the markets should decide, then react in dismissing it when the market clearly just doesn't like the plan for growth by the Government itself.

And its not that the plan for growth itself is bad and not liked, its that its not costed, and so, like everything else, is an article of faith. And by his own admission, the Chancellor hasn't costed his plans either. It's a work in progress.

Buckle up, suckers, cos it's gonna be a rough ride.

Put on an extra jumper.

Wednesday 28th September 2022

A bad night's sleep was had, and I felt like poo in the morning.

This was going to be a long day.

Its still dark at twenty past five of course, and now there isn't enough daylight to power the solar lights on the shelter at the end of the garden, odd to get up and see total darkness there.

I do the usual stuff in the morning. Jools went swimming and I listened to a podcast, then began work, and that's when the problems started.

Lack of sleep and working on computers leads in very short time to spots in my vision, the first step on a migraine.

I stopped and went to sit on the sofa for twenty minutes, then went back to work and within ten minutes more spots before my eyes.

So, I hoped that going for a walk would sort things out.

Of course I took a camera, and headed out over the fields hoping to see a Clouded Yellow, which I did see, and one allowed me to get quite close a couple of times, I got shots, but not my best.

I walked on, past Fleet House and down past the farm, then up the hill to the new seat for a rest and a check on how I felt.

I felt OK, much better for not looking at a computer screen, if I'm honest.

I walked through the first mud I have seen since early spring made going soft, then turn along Green Lane, where I saw three more butterflies, and being still early and cool meant that they were happy to bask and so let me take shots.

A Comma flew by, then I spotted another just landed, and so I crept up and got my shots.

A short walk further along, a Speckled Wood also basked, and looked pretty fresh.

But not as fresh as the Holly Blue that was resting with wings closed, but allowed me again to get shots.

Sadly, the Southern Hawker I spotted saw me approach and flew off.

I walked back home and checked work mails. Not much happening, just lots of messages regarding travel expenses.

I'll do them in the morning.

With that I shut the computer down and went to lay on the sofa. Eyes closed.

The afternoon passed quietly.

I was feeling washed out, but OK.

I prepared dinner; fishcakes, lentil dahl and stir fry.

Beer wasn't a good idea, probably, but went down well.

It will come as no surprise to hear we went to bed at eight.

Sleep came quickly.

Panic

Yesterday, a large proportion of UK pension funds were going to collapse. Leaving possinly millions without the retirement funds they would need in their old age.

That includes Jools and myself.

The Bank of England had to pump £65 billion ointo them to keep them viable, as the whole lot of them were not expected to last the day.

Neither the Prome Minister or Chancellor has spoken for six days.

This collapse and the intervention of the IMF came as a direct result of the "fiscal event"/budget.

The IMF, US and EU have expressed alarm at the unfunded policies, but the word out of the Treasury was that there would be no change.

This morning, the hyper-partisan press, especially the Torygraph, shrills Truss to keep on keeping on as their editorial believes the policies will work.

In the end.

Its funny how the Tufton Street Mafia, long champions of the free market, turn on it and call it left wing when the free market fails to have the faith Truss et al expect. While the Mail asks if the pension fund managers were taking risky gambles.

Remember, this is what happens when dogma meets reality.

Its the same attitude as with Brexit, and when reality wins out, its always someone else's fault.

Plus la change.

Its now a question of how long Truss can hang on and how much damage she and her Government will do.

Tuesday 27th September 2022

We come to the end of the month, past the autumn equinox, and now nights are longer than days. Each morning, the sun rises more to the south, so that when it rises we can see it from the back door now, if we're looking.

Life has settled down again now I'm back from my tavels, though that does mean I have travel expenses to do, once I get al the receipts together.

Jools left for work early, as she had Monday off, so to make sure they're all caught up., now that the end of the month approaches.

I have cleared my calendar as my presence in an audit all day was requested. Due to IT issues, I was late in joining, I send a text message of applogy.

What are you doing in the audit, the boss of the person who requested my presence and forwarded me the invite asked.

I explained.

I don't think we need you. If we do, we shall send message.

Just like that.

So, I spend an hour trying to get my scanner to work so I can scan the receipts for expense claim. But the computer and scanner refused to talk, even when the utilities found it, the scanning one could not. I switched to compact camera, snapped all the receipts, even the one I had thoughtlessly hidden in a back compartment of my wallet.

Then sent the images to my work address, as my work computer has no SD card slots.

So it goes, so it goes.

I have fruit for breakfast and sit and wait for the call that never came. Seven wasted hours.

So it goes.

I have vegetable chilli for lunch. Still spicy.

And wait some more.

Three comes and goes, and Teams tells me that the meeting ended. No word to me. At all.

I am so fed up, I go to mow the lawn, the mower started up first time, and now I have locktightened the bolts, it stayed in one piece.

Which was nice.

THe lawn looks more like a lawn again now, even if many of the rosettes give truth to that lie when you get close up to look. But it looks good, and with the neatly trimmed hedges, just about all set for winter. I just need to do one more tighter cut, scarify and then scatter seeds, and it will be done.

Dinner was simply pizza and beer. No more, no less.

And magnificent with it.

And easy to clear up once we had eaten.

I was going to follow Scotland against Ukraine, but could find it on nowhere legally, so followed by text until nine, at which point I was too tired to stay up.

So, went to bed.

Back to the 1970s

I mean, we knew it was bad, but....

Yesterday evening, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) issued a statement on the state of the UK economy, serving warning to the Government that the dfference in monetary and fiscal policy must be reconciled, and that the tax cuts announced need to be reversed in Novembers official budget.

300 mortgage products have been pulled by banks as the interest rates they need to cover are, as yet, unkknown. So, the cut in stamp duty is pointless if no one can get the finance to buy a house in the first place.

Post Office workers have announced 19 strikes between now and Christmas as they push for wage increases that match the cost of living.

More train strikes next week.

And we know there are plans for rationing of energy over the winter, more urgent now as sabotage has closed the gas pipeline from Russia under the Baltic.

Russia is to officially annex parts of Ukraine on Friday and is threatening nuclear retaliation if the west escalates measures.

If I'm honest, it doesn't feel like a good place to live right now.

Monday 26th September 2022

Back to work.

As it is now the end of September, it is dark when we wake up, and when cloudy takes a long time to get light.

Jools has the day off, so goes swimming early doors, and I have a second coffee straight after my first.

There's only so much of a podcast you can listen to before work beckons, so I set the office up, and find I have 25 messages left from last week to act on.

OK, lets do this.

The weeks starts with meetings and phone calls, me checking in on those who were ill last week. Most are improving, which is nice.

Jools comes back, we have breakfast sitting on the patio as its just about warm enough.

Jools then does chores: goes to the tip and then gardening. I knuckle down and get mails answered.

Even after being away for a week, within a few hours its like I've never been away. Time drags and cats demand to be fed, or whatever it is they want, they accept food and are quiet.

Picture of the day is tricky, but have this of a bottle of milk as we have sourced a milkman who now delivers to our door, which means we no longer have to buy it from that Tesco.

It is delivered before even we're awake. His rattling milkbottles clank before we're awake.

For the afternoon Jools does beading in the room upstairs, with three cats for company.

I mean, that's plain greedy.

Rain came in the afternoon so no walking done, so we heave early dinner; caprese, focaccia bread and wine.

And then for the evening there is England v Germany at Wembley. It ended 3-3, neither team that good, and Germany throwing away a 2-0 lead with 20 minutes to go.

Policy is hard

Most of the current Goverment came from Vote Leave and the other offices in 55 Tufton Street, where focus groups with agendas and funded by money from abroad somehow got invited to appear on BBC news shows again and again, so that fringe ideas in the end became mainstream.

But with Brexit policy, Government and monetary policy is difficult.

I mean really, really hard.

Any old Old Etonian cane say they're gonna do something, but actually make it happen.

That's hard.

That's Government.

Which is why the UK has the Civil Service, which will enact election dreams and promises into actual polices.

No matter how stupid some are.

(Brexit).

The current Cabinet, and Johnson's for that matter, saw the Civil Service as a hinderance to getting things done, and are now looking to switch to the American way of having political appointees instead.

I mean look how well that goes.

On top of this, this is a group of politicians that has grown used to governing without scrutiny. Having to explain, either in the House or in committees how they harebrained schemes will work.

So, under COVID they found Statuatory Instruments (SIs) and other mechanisms for driving policy without much or any scrutiny.

They also reduced debate to a joke, with major bills having just a single day of debate allocated.

Scrutiny drives better policy, of course, as does taking in different points of view.

But that is hard.

Which is how, the Chancellor, having the one chance to impress the markets with his chancelling skills failed so badly, his non-budget budget have exactly the opposite effect that was planned.

UK Government debt will now cost £15 billion a year more.

THat is impressive in your first month.

The "fiscal event" wasn't called a budget because that would have meant impact assessments and scrutiny, so that is to be avoided.

Strangly, the markets noted this, and guessed the reason, and are not impressed.

In days new interest rates on mortgages will be announced, for new buyers and those who want to re-finance.

Its gonna be brutal.

Also will effect landlords and those who have bought to let, who will now find that rents will not cover the mortgages they have.

The value of your investment can go down as well as up.

Policy is very hard.

Three years on

26th September 2019 was the day Mum passed away.

So, three years have passed, and, well. I know many people have a great relationship with either or both ther parents, and for those that had those, I do envy you.

Saying that, it made Mum's passing all the more easier to deal with.

I'm sure I mentioned this previously, but the only real change in me or us, is that we paid off the mortgage, which means, in theory, we have more money to spend. And save.

Should be saving, but it seems we're also quite good at spending.

We tried to work out where the money went this month, and then we remembered that we spent a thousand pounds on the new woodburner.

The really sad thing is that, of course, Mum should still be here with us.

But she chose to live her life the way she did, to live off Pringles, shortbread and Benson and Hedges whilst sitting in her armchair for up to 23 hours a day, and although she got to do crosswords, watched soaps and quizes, there was a cost to pay in the end.

There's always a price to pay.

I believed up to the last time I spoke to her that she could still get her life back, though in truth by then it was too late by then.

For many, its not too late to change, we have to just want it. But also, if someone chooses that path, we have to let them go.

Even though it pains us dearly.

Just one chance

Fairly new PM, Liz Truss, had all summer along with her choice of Chancellor on how to deal with the cost of living crisis once she was declared Leader of the Conservative Party.

And then was gifted 12 extra days to fine tune the plan during the period of national mourning.

What they came up with was tax cuts for the (mostly) rich, with the richest pay much less tax.

And then uncosted borrowing on top of that to pay for fuel price freezes.

There are, remember, supposedly free marketeers.

Only their beloved free markets took a very dim view to these plans.

So, the free marketeers had to double down on the actual free markets, that economists, traders, bankers, etc, did not understand the brilliance of the plan.

The uncosted plan.

Because by insisting it wasn't a budget, no finacial impact assessment was needed. I don't know about you, but that sounds very familiar.

Some kind of assessment is due in the middle of November.

The (free) markets waited for the Bank of England to say and do something.

The BoE said they would do something, at some point.

The pound plunged, but recovered a little. It's still about $1.07, but the Guilts increaded in interest 4x, making medium and long term Government borrowing much more expensive, and those downgradings by Moody and others won't have helped either.

And that interest rise will be passed onto mortgage holders very soon, with someone with a £250,000 mortgage expecting to pay an extra £800 or so a month. On top of increased cost of living.

And because the pound is worth less dollars now, energy, priced in dollars, will be even more expensive, and all good will increase in prive, fuelling inflation, making the cost of living even higher.

Truss had one chance to show she was serious about Government.

She blew it.

The markets are not impressed, so her scope for policies are now much reduced, also having support in the PCP slump.

All in three weeks.

And though the chaos yesterday, neither she or her Chancellor spoke, she wasn't seen, and he refused to engage wih reporters on the street.

Sunday 25th September 2022

It is possible to have butterflies released at your wedding.

The butterflies could even be non-native Monarchs, whose foodplant is not found in Europe.

Online you can buy chrysalis of many species, including really rare ones, if you don't ask too many questions.

But because you can, doesn't mean you should.

This is a preamble to Sunday's activities, which centred around hunting for the fabled Queen of Spain Fitillaries. These had been found, for the second time this summer, in Walmer on the 29th August, and last weekend a new colony was found near to the railway station. UUp to eight adults on the wing were seen and photographed.

This comes after two sightings earlier in the summer: one in Walmer (again), and in Barham. As there had been less than 400 sightings since the middle of the 18th centry, it might be seen as suspicious.

Thing is, a natuaral migrant and ones that have been released either by accident or on purpose could not be guessed as to their history.

And it is a remarkable fact that this latest colony of at least eight adults were found in a field that a builder wants to develop into housing. Which means that someone might think a stopping order could be placed, and is also in a field with muc higher public access that would otherwise by the case.

I have no idea if these eight are the offspring of a pregnant female that laid eggs earlier in the summer, but they are here in east Kent, and people have travelled from all over to see this very rare migrant.

And that is the second problem.

The field in which they are living near has been allowed to go fallow. A half harvest of wheat is going to seed, and mixed in are various hawkbits, oxtongues and other wild flowers, which is just perfect for the butterflies to feed on.

Anyway, people came from all over the country in the past week to see the butterflies. I spoke to people from Tyne and Wear, Poole in Dorset, Bristol and London. And that is the power of the internet, giving exact grid references to where they butterflies or any other rarity can be found, bird, plant or insect. And that means habitat, be it fields, meadows or wherever is threatened by heavy footfall.

Last winter an American belted kingfisher was seen, and the fields around the stream it set up home were thrashed by hundred and thousands of twitchers. Am I so different?

I do wonder.

I can say that this is a Kentish tick, although I did see one two years (and a week) ago, so wanted to see the underwings, so joined in the party.

I did enjoy myself, meeting people from around th country and seeing the joy on their faces as the butterflies emerged and we took turns in getting shots. But is it right? I don't know.

Sunday dawned bright and pretty clear, and the moderate breeze that was forecast had yet to appear, so the air was still. It was a toss up between going not too early so there would be none, and too late after which they would have warmed up and not settle.

I thought nine would be good, so after breakfast Jools dropped my off just the other side of Walmer station, and I walked into the field, and already I could see heads of others already there on the far side of the field. I went over to see if they'd had any luck.

They hadn't, but it was already warm enough not to need a coat or jumper, and in the lea of the hedge, there was little of no breeze to be felt.

Just after nine, a shout went up as the first Queen had been spotted, but the sighter lost it when the butterfly flew low, but gave a rough position. I went out wide, knowing that if there was one there, it would be basking facing the rising sun, and soon I had it, on a stem of wheat, looking gloriously fresh.

We all took turns in snapping the insect. A couple of times it flew off as someone's shadow fell across it, but each time we followed it so more could get shots.

One time it landed on the top of a thistle and opened it's orange wings, and an "oooohhhh" escaped the casing group.

I spotted a second, which landed on a path so more new arrivals could see.

But I already had the shots I wanted, and had these in half an hour of arriving, I had thought three hours more appropriate.

Jools had gone swimming after dropping me off, so was able to text her that I was done and to collect me on the way home.

Which she did.

More and more people were arriving, making near thirty people chasing butterflies. Just as well that the field wasn't needed to be harvested.

We went home for a brew.

That was the main task for the day, and I guess I could have gone for that long-overdue haircut, but that could wait until next week.

For dinner I made cordon bleus, with leftover cheese and bacon medallions. I breadcrumb them, shallow fried them all over before cooking in the over for half an hour.

They were a spectacular success.

The afternoon stretched out like a dark stretchy thing. I tried to stay awake, while we listened to music.

Supper was crumpets and huge brews.

And somehow three days of the long weekend had slipped by. I had two weeks of botanising for #wildflowerhour to post, and that passed the last half hour before bed.

Phew.

Confidence is a preference for the habitual voyeur Of what is known as (economic competence)

I failed economic "O" levels.

I mean I got a "U".

But even I understood that it is less a science and more a matter of belief.

In that, if the markets don't have confidence in your policies, then no matter how well argued and thought out they were, or how correct in dogma they might be, they will still fail.

Earlier this year, the Johnson Government told us taxes needed to rise to stimulate the economy.

This month, the Truss Government teld us taxes had to be cut to also stimulate the economy.

Both these things cannot be true.

On Friday the markets crashed in response. And so over the weekend, rather than adapt the policies, Truss and her Government doubled down by saying there's more of where that came from: more tax cuts in the new year.

The markets crashed again.

The pound is nearly at parity with the Dollar and Euro, and Government Guilts are now up to nearly 6%, whereas they were at 1.5% in July.

Truss has been PM for three weeks, twelve days of which there was no Parliament due to the mourning of the late Queen.

This is some record.

So, in short, the Government is loosening the nation's purse strings, while the Bank of England is tightening them.

Remember, these people are idiots.

Dogmatic idiots.

But idiots just the same.

Travels in my Head: New Hampshire

The original idea of this series was to give my thoughts on each US State I have visited. And then I got sidetracked to Vegas then Italy, but here we are, back on track and onto New Hampshire.

Nickname: The Granite State.

Motto: Live Free or Die.

New Hampshire is north of Boston, and in general, if Boston gets a dusting of snow, New Hampshire will have had feet of the white stuff. And I have visited the state several times. I have, or rather had a friend who lived there, and for a short time we might have been an item and I moved there.

But it wasn't to be.

Even after it wasn't to be, I still went over, last time in 2005 when I left the RAF, and I spent two weeks in New Hampshire, in summer, before flying out west.

There are three seasons in NH: winter, summer and mud. I saw mostly winter, but in 2005 I saw summer. Summer was brutal, damn hot. Winter was damn cold. And full of snow.

In the two weeks I was there, three stroms put down four feet each, the last of which happened the day before I was due to fly back home, and despite leaving for the airport 15 hours early, by the time we got to the end of the Spaulding Turnpike, I95 was closed southbound. We tried to turn round to go back to Rochester, but we couldn't. In the end we stayed at my friend's Mother's place in Dover.

We had to dig ourselves out the next morning.

I would ened up living in Dover, just not that one.

So, you leave I95 on the Turnpike and head north, into the White Mountains. It is tough and rugged, and in Mt Washington has the windiest place on earth. A mountain you can drive up, or travel on a rack railway. We drove. And I locked the car keys in the car at the top.

Oh, how we laughed.

New Hampshire also has coastline. Not much. And from what I saw, most of it is private land, so restricted. The one lace we did get to the shore, it was covered in seaweed.

New Hampshire my first traste of America outside of Vegas, and seemed to be gas stations, oversweet coffee, mountains and nice people. Though, as I pointed out to someone last week, I was armed with something no American has: an English accent. Everyone wanted to talk to me, including the staff at Walmart which meant most times I got a personal shopper. I thought everyone had that.

But apparently not.

There are three ways out of New Hampshire: south to Massachusetts, north to Maine and west to Vermont.

Looking back, when I think of New Hampshire, I think of the endless miles of trees, mountains and Lake Winnipesaukee.

I liked it, but then I liked almost everywhere in America, as it was like being in a movie.

Saturday 24th September 2022

The weekend.

And lo, the rain did fall, in stair-rods, from the sky.

So, no chance to go butterfly chasing, in fact, it would be amazing if we went anywhere.

Up at half six, time for a coffee, before going to Tesco and spending nearly another £100 on what keeps us going.

THe forecasted rain began to fall soon after, and did not stop pretty much all day.

And its not like there was football to brighten the gloom, as with it being an international break, and all games are not now on Sky, I could liten on the radio, or find something else to do.

There is photo editing to do, as I have visited near to 20 churches this month, and have only posted shots from about six of them.

Jools did some gardening between the showers, and after a shower I cooked burgers for lunch, a meal so filling we didn't eat for the rest of the day.

I can say that the cats have settled down very well. Now it is autumn we have closed the living room window/escape route, and the cats are coping. Poppy meows to go out or come in, and sometimes even braves the cat flap in the back door. This should mean we can keep the house warmer through the colder months. There is less snarling and fighting, but even that I think is Poppy's initial reaction to anything is to growl, which provokes.

We have the radio on for the afternoon, while outside it lashes down.

Having been away four days this week, I can confirm it is nice just to be home.

The day faded into evening, we had more music on. Supper was a twix and a coffee.

There was some baseball on the BBC: Red Sox at Yankees, not quite the post season. I decided to leave it, as no matter how much I like the game, watching it live from the US means late nights of no sleep at all.

We went to bed at half eight, read a bit before Cleo made it clear she wanted to go to sleep.

Yes, boss.

Friday 23rd September 2022

I slept well until three, then woke up.

And could not go back to sleep.

Oh well.

I played the age old guessing game of what the time might be without having a watch or clock.

Minutes dragged.

We got up at quarter past five, outside it was still dark, and what I could see of the sky seemed to be cloud, which was a shame as I had plans.

Plans, as Monday was a bank holiday and I worked by travelling to Denmark, I had agreed with my boss to take Friday off instead, and whilst I was away, a small colony of Queen of Spains had been found in Walmer. I got the location from a friend, ando so all I needed was the weather to be bright enough for the rare migrant butterflies to come out and bask.

In order to be able to do this, I really needed the car, so that meant dropping Jools off in Hythe and coming back.

Which I did.

Always amazes me that people speed to work in the morning. I understand speeding to get home, but driving like a twat just to gget a better parking space is something I don't understand.

Anway, we get to Hythe without serious incident, then I drive home for breakfast, at which point it starts to rain.

Hard.

Rain and chasing butterflies do not mix. At all, so I have little choice but to sit and wait. And write. And edit shots.

Because, I have taken a large number of photographs this month, so I will be editing them well into next month and probably beyond.

Anyway.

It stops raining at about nine, and soon it is drying out, so at then, against my better judgement, I drive to Walmer to hunt the Queens. I manage to find a place to park nearby, and begin hunting where they were spotted the day before.

Een if it had stopped raining, it was cloudy and so dull, and no butterflies were to be seen at first.

Another guy with a camera turned up, and in the end we swapped news. He had driven up from Bristol that morning, and was desperate to see one, while I had at least seen one two years back. I wandered more to the far side of the field, while I stayed near the road.

Oh yes, the field.

The land has been aquired for housing, so that and one the other side of the road are laying fallow this year, and the locals are apprently using it as a dog's toilet. There was literally shit everywhere. In bags and out. Those who throw away full bags of dog shit mystify me. I mean, why?

Anyway, the weak sun does break through, and I charge across the field hoping to see one of the Queens basking. But I see none.

I do get a female Adonis basking, which is the only butterfly I see, except a large white that flies up from a hedge as I walk past and never returns.

I hunted for two hours, in the end leaving at ten past twelve, giving me 50 minutes to get to Hythe to colelct Jools from work.

Rain began to fall any way.

So, I drove through the Alkham Valley to Folkestone, then over the downs into Hythe, getting to the factory with ten minutes to spare. And in a few minutes the factory empties and people pile into their cars for the weekend.

Jools comes out and asks, what's the plan?

Fish and chips and then go up to the ossuary?

Yes and OK.

We drove to the old Aldi car park, got the last space and walked to the HIgh Street to the oddly named Torbay of Hythe, and as the lunch rush was over, plenty of tables. I ordered skate and chips, Jools had cod, and we chared a portion of onion rings.

It was a large piece of skate, an inch thick, and I were proper full. Which made the walk up the the church after a bit of a huff and puff.

St Peonard has a crypt, and in it over a thousand skeletons and body parts are stored. Nothing untoward in this, just unusual in the 21st century. I think there is just one other in England.

I had been here a decade before and my pictures were not very good, so a chance to redo them for the sum of two pounds.

I got the shots in ten minutes, and not much else to do, we say thanks to the lady on the door who collected the two pounds, and walked back down to the car as rain began to fall again.

We drove home, dealing with shit drivers cutting me up on a roundabout.

So it goes.

Back home for a brew and a lay down.

I fall asleep on the sofa.

Mulder wakes me up by standing on my belly.

Cheers, mate.

We have no supper, just a handful of cheese footballs. WWe eat the whole container of them, and I wash them down with a glass of wine.

And another glass.

Then I switch to sloe gin.

This was because England were on the tellybox, against Italy.

A poor game settled by a fine goal meaning England finished bottom of their group and are going to be relegated, but it don't really matter.

Apparently.

Thursday 22nd September 2022

Well, not quite the red eye, but did mean being up at five, on the road half an hour later in order to drive the 70 minutes to Billund.

Dark when I left, dawn when I dropped the car off.

I had to stop off to take some allergy medicine, so got the lorry parked shots.

Very chilly in Denmark this week, a frost on Thursday morning, though temperatures rose quickly when the sun came up.

I made it in time, so was ready to come home.

Massive queues of locals for the Danish low cost airlines, and the Ryanair one building too, it was a relief to be just one of two people on our flight checking in a bag.

Then whiz through security, and up to the gastrobar for breakfast of coffee and a danish.

Well, I was in Denmark!

I have been on flights so full you're lucky to have a seat, and I've been on flights that passengers were so few I had a row or two for myself.

But this flight, on Dornier 328, which only holds 28 people, had just four passengers.

Meaning in theory there was seven breakfasts each.

If we were hungry.

So few of us in fact, instead of a shuttle bus, they took us to the pan in the marshal's van.

So we took off into the golden autumnal morning, the trees and fields looking splendid in the warm light, climbing up and up as we headed out to see over Ribe.

With breakfast came these delightful cruet set, much better than those tiny paper sachets. I nearly nicked these as I liked the design so much.

Breakfast done, and after a snooze, the plane began to drop from cruising altitude, and the familiar landmarks of the Kent coast came into view.

We flew over Grain and over the A2, meaning we were heading inland, and that meant a final approach from the west, with grandstand views of central London on the low pass along the river.

I got my camera ready.

And the turning points were the same; at Crystal Palace and then at Battersea before the turn onto the Thames.

Past Westminster, Whitehall, Charing Cross and into The City, familiar places passed quickly beneath the plane.

I took shots. Lots of shots.

We cruise over The City, then into the East End, passing near Spitalfields, getting lower and lower each second.

Finally skipping over the roof of the Excel and down onto the runway.

Home.

The aircraft parked, and we were allowed off, allowed to walk all the way from gate 10 to immigration, always a hike.

Are you the first or last passengers off your flight? A lady at immigration asked.

We are the whole flight, four of us!

Even they were amazed.

Through the scanners, my case was waiting, and out into the concourse, out to the DLR station, where I had 7 minutes to wait for the next train to Stratford. Which meant I would miss the ten to ten train, so would have to doss around for 55 minutes or so, once I got there.

Arriving after the morning rush hour was over meant having seats, and getting a seat at a bakery in the shopping centre with my coffee.

I wasn't really hungry but a ginger muffin piqued my interest, and was OK.

Still half an hour to kill, so I went down onto the platforms in the hope of seeing a Eurostar hammer through.

One did.

I just managed to get the camera out and record it after seeing the lights in the tunnel a mile away.

A few minutes later, my train arrived with *lots" of empty seats, just as the automated announcement had promised.

Last leg of the journey.

At Dover, I get a taxi and tell him to take me home. Drop me off at the end of the street.

He took us via Townwall Street and Jubilee Way, then along the Deal Road to Chez Jelltex.

I made a brew. Had a late fruit-filled breakfast and another brew.

Phew.

Now, as there had been several Queen of Spains seen in Walmer, I thought it a reasonable bet to go to find some around the village, so despite having already down 6,000 steps, a few more wouldn't hurt.

Not much to report, several Clouded Yellows among the lucerne, but none settled. But then I had shots of them this year, down past Fleet House and up past the farm to the new bench to have a sit and think about life, the universe and everything.

I pick myself up and walk along Green Lane beside the wood, before dropping down to Collingwood and to home.

I was shattered.

I unpack and put the case away, then pop the dinner in the oven; something Jools had prepared, chicen thighs and bacon medalions in a tomato sauce. With garlic.

Was good.

I open a bottle of red as it felt so good to be home.

Marc is back on the wireless, but sleep overtook me at eight, and we went to bed.

Phew.

Wednesday 21st September 2022

Second full day in Aarhus, and just trying to fill out my time.

Fact is, there is a significant wave of fresh COVID, my colleague and his daughter has it, my boss has it, the guy I was to audit has it, and my friend on the project who I was to have coffee with is also sick with it.

So, although I feel ill, there is the realisation that not all is well. Although at work and in the city, life goes on as normal.

I drive to the office and made to look busy and even had two meetings to fill the day. Met my friends for lunch of fruit and vegetables, before my coaching session to a manager in Germany.

It was a very good day, with lots of positive feedback. A lesson for us all there.

I had no plans for the evening, just to walk into town, find somewhere for a drink and then a place to eat.

The old city square is splendid, dominated by the cathedral.

There's a bar opposite, I go in there for a beer and to read Record Collector that I picked up at LCY.

Then along the "canal" to a burger joint where I find I order burger for the third night in a row.

Wasn't brilliant, but a burger never really is bad.

I wasn't done, I drop in to the pub beside the Sherlock Holmes, The Golden Lion, where I meet a couple: he from the US called Brandon, and his partner from Iceland.

We share laughs and stories, then I go back to my room to get some shuteye before getting up at five the next morning. Seven hours away.