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.