Tuesday 30th May 2023

And so, back to work.

All good things comes to an end, doubly so 9 days orchiding here in Kent and in the north of England.

But we need to earn a crust or two in order for us to be able to do stuff like that.

We were up early, and having coffee at half five, I wasn't really looking forward to my inbox if I remembered my work password.

In the end I did remember it, so was able to log on and catch all the news. Ad then tackle the inbox.

Not much to tell, mostly meeting replies and the such. Or invites to meetings I missed when I was away.

By ten I was all caught up, so rewarded myself with a fresh coffee and some fruit. Outside it was cloudy, breezy and cold. I buckled and put the heating in. Scully meowed her approval as the radiator near her bed warmed up.

There was no way I was going out for a walk unless the temperature doubled, the wind dropped and the sun came out. I can tell you now, that not one of those things happened..

Sadly.

So I did not go for a walk.

I packed up at three, and cleared stuff away, made a Vinaigrette with oil, cider vinegar and mild mustard. I cooked some pasta, once drained added chickpeas, salad and the dressing to make a bowl of stuff to be shared, while I boiled some potatoes to go the two lamb chops I had defrosted and seasoned with the rub I got ast year from Rhodes. It was all rather wonderful, doubly so with half a bottle of Chimay blue to wash it all down with.

And with no Marc to listen to, we listened to a podcast and went to bed early.

Roch and roll.

Monday 29th May 2023

It is the last day of my week and two weekends off, 9 days, and withme being so orchid focussed, it seemed a good idea to just do nothing.

That was the plan.

Nothing.

We woke at five, Jools fed the cats, then came to bed, we both fell back to sleep and slept to nearly half eight. Which is nearly lunchtime

Once up, again, we have coffee, fruit, then I cook bacon butties and by which time it was gone ten.

Nearly bedtime.

I made a loaf of bread to go with the salad and Spanish preserved meats we were going to have for lunch, and once that was kneaded, I could go for a shower and have a shave.

Outside, the sun really wasn't shining, and with the wind set from the north again, it felt not just chilly, but actual cold.

In the afternoon we put the heating on.

Lunch was excellent, and once we had cleared away, it was time for the last play off final, Sheffield Wednesday v Barnsley, which went 122 minutes without a goal, but full of tense excitement, until there was a last minute winner for Wednesday.

The crowd went wild.

Or the blue and white half did.

Yay.

For Barnsley fans, the dream ends and the same old game will kick off on August 4th, something like just nine weeks away.

Sheesh.

With no Marc on the wireless, Jools watches TV and I write, and the evening slips by.

And being a school night, we were in bed by quarter past nine, so be to be all ready for work in the morning.

Sunday 28th May 2023

Up at six for the second and final day of the tour. Again, too early for breakfast, but I had a tea in the room, before packing.

I was staying in the island of Walney, the other side of the river from Barrow. I was happy in that one of our windfarms was named after the island, though I was careful to point this out to people, it wasn't me who named the farm or put up the WTG. However, the owner of the hotel didn't seem to mind.

Talking of the hotel, it was in a converted church, just over 100 years, and so was perfect. Only they didn't do food, and as I said the previous night, I couldn't be arsed to get anything for supper as the shops were a walk away and frankly, I was shattered.

I packed, and went to the car. And down at the end of the road, the views along the river were so good I just had to stop to take a shot.

I drove to the meeting point, and from there we drove in convoy eastwards, to the hills and a high pass over the Pennines.

In a village tucked into the fold of the fells, we took a narrow lane up.

Up and up it went, passing small meadows and limestone pavements, scattered with folks camping, or early walkers out with their dogs or just backpacks.

I know hills and mountains in the UK are mere bumps compared to most around the world, but at the highest point it felt like we were on the roof of the world, with views all round to the ends of the earth.

Or Leeds.

And on a south facing slope, we saw what we had come to see, hundreds of Early Purple Orchids, all at their peak, stretching from the road to the crest of the fell.

We got our cameras out and made hay, or taking hundreds of shots, anyway.

Weather and light was perfect, which is what you want on a tour like this.

We get back in the car and drive eastwards, into Yorkshire.

The pass sent downwards, hemmed in on both sides by drystone walls, it was narrow and twisty, but we met no other traffic except a couple of cyclists, in low gears, grinding their way to the summit.

Further down, we came to a picturesque town, and already visitor's cars lined the narrow streets, making progress tricky as more and more cars were arriving.

Through there, then turning to the south, we turned to Grassington, another tourist trap, but we were going somewhere close, a place that has the rarest of UK orchids, the Lady's Slipper.

If only the sat nav would work, we'd get there.

Our destination was a country park, family focussed one, with a nature trail. But also is where the best reintroduction program is for the ultra-rare Lady's Slipper Orchid.

At the booth, we talked to the guy and he said it was OK to take shots, and go under the rope to get closer looks, and shots.

We walk up a steep path, beside a bog meadow that is wonderful, packed full of plants you would normally have to walk miles over fells and bogs to see, and here they're right beside the path. But halfway up was the first of the Lady's Slippers, out in the sun, was already going over, but along the treeline there were more plants.

We went in and got close up shots of a plant with a single flower, but elsewhere there were young plants that were growing bind this season, but right at the back was a monster plant with 22 flowers, protected by a wire cage, to protect it from people like, me, photographers.

After getting our shots, we walk down to the restaurant, where I have a cream tea for breakfast, which we eat sitting outside on a picnic table.

It was half eleven, and time for me to go.

I bid farewell, and walked to the car, programmed the sat nav for Dover, 320 miles away.

Hit it!

The sat nav suggested I would be home at quarter past five, I thought that optimistic, but we shall see. The roads started narrow and twisting, but as time went on, wider and straighter until I reached Harrogate, where traffic slowed me down, and again to Knaresborough where there was more traffic.

But in the end to the A1, and I could put the hammer down to head south and to home.

Not much to report, traffic mostly light, so I could cruise at 70, stopping at Newark for a sandwich and dreadful hot dog. I didn't know it was dreadful, but it was. By the time I found out, I was back on the road.

And so without incident through Nottinghamshire, Rutland into Cambridgeshire, where I turned to Cambridge, then down the M11.

I had the final games of the season on the radio, all kicked off at half four, with only one out of Everton, Leicester and Leeds would stay up. Personally, I don't think any of them were good enough to stay up.

Finally onto the M25, round to Dartford and back in Kent, but with the M20 closed due to an accident, I went down the A2, but again, despite being a sunny Bank Holiday weekend, traffic was light, maybe because it was late afternoon.

I got back to Dover at half five, Jools came to collect me from the car hire office, and was back by six, in time to hear the last half hour of the football, where Everton survived.

Saturday 27th May 2023

The big day.

I was awake at half four, no idea why, so I lay in bed till 5, then get up, get dressed and decide to head to the meeting point.

I was up here on a guided tour of rare orchids and a photography workshop. For me it was mostly about the rare orchids, rare and tiny orchids.

More of that later.

I pack and do one last check of the room and walk to reception to hand the room key in, load the car and set the destination in the sat nav.

Up one junction of the motorway, then into the Southern Lakes, with the roads empty of traffic, which would be very different in three hours time when we would be going the other way.

Into the hills, and up ever-narrowing lanes, through a small village and then up a narrow dead end lane to the meeting point, a spot so remote that there were two vehicles in it already.

I park, switch off the engine and wait.

My guide emerges from the parked car beside me after half an hour, he had kipped here after arriving in the wee small hours.

We head off into the bog, along a boardwalk and begin the hunt for our first target species: Coralroot orchids.

All three of the orchids this first day were to be either small, or tiny, or even tinier.

This was going to be a challenge.

After half an hour, I find the first spike, and then ten minutes later, a second. We both talk lots of shots, but with the clock ticking and the day progressing, we start to walk back to the car.

Something catches my eye, clearly an orchid spike, but a giant compared to the others we had seen. A Coralroot some four inches tall, and in perfect condition, and with two small plants beside it.

We take hundreds more shots.

And that was that. We walk back to the car, and on the way we encounter a nice retired lady, who was a rabid Corbynite, who would hear nothing bad about him. Well, she did hear because I said I had had enough of people on the left who preferred to be right on rather than in power.

We reach the car and drive on to the next site. About 50 minutes away, back under the motorway and up into the hills again, along narrow lanes until we reached a long straight road. We park and look at the fields in front of us.

We walked into the first field, lapwing chicks scattered well before we approached, and they hid so we couldn't see them. While their parents wheeled and squawked high above us.

We climbed over a dry stone wall, then into a moor of densely packed heather, to a geotagged point, at which point we started to look.

And after some half an hour, my guide found two tiny plants, barely two inches high, like dried red grass. This was the Lesser Twayblade.

We only found these two plants, so I take shots and we move on, an hour to the final site, but on the way there was lunch to think about.

We find a pub on a bend in the road, it did the important things: beer and food. We have a sharing platter and a pint, then sit to watch the motorbikes scream past.

We suffer an IT failure, and have to recharge a phone with the location of the final orchid, so we have a coffee and teacake.

Half an hour later we were on the move again, heading to a lane, before turning up a track to an unmarked site.

After parking, there is a fell, and at the bottom, mounds where top soil maybe had slipped down. On one of these we hoped we would find the orchids.

After searching we find about 8 spikes, none open, but one close, so I record that, and by then it was six, and time to go to the hotel.

It was an hour's drive off the fells back down to the coast at Barrow. Traffic was slow, we got stuck behind tractors, but in the end we pulled into the familiar town. At least to me.

My hotel was in Walney, over the bridge, and after which one of our windfarms was named. The hotel was a former church, built 100 years before, and very nicely converted.

I checked in, and was too tired to walk to the local shop for supper, so had a brew and ate the two pack of biscuits before reviewing my shots and going to bed as dusk fell.

Phew, rock and roll.

Friday 26th May 2023

On the road again.

Jools took me into town, so I could pick up the hire car, but as she had a yoga class, this was at twenty past six. I had nearly two hours to kill, so I found a sheltered bench and listened to a podcast or two.

Two guys, looking older than they were, shuffled past with a plastic bag full of cans for a day's boozing in a nearby shelter.

Its a life. Just.

At seven I try to find somewhere open for breakfast, and after searching online and on foot, there was just one, so I went in and the guy reluctantly took my order of a standard breakfast, then went to cook it.

It was OK, but set me for the day of travel I had ahead.

I walked down Snargate Street to the car hire place, and because they were all prepared and open early, I was in the car driving home by eight, back home to have a brew, pack and wait until nine for the rush to die down.

I set off at half nine, the car loaded, mostly with cameras and lenses I would not use. I programmed the hotel into the sat nav, and off I went, up the A2.

And for a while, it was quiet, and almost enjoyable. Traffic got worse near to Gravesend, and then was stationary on the slip road onto the M25 leading to the tunnel.

I guess it took 15 minutes to get through, so out into bloody Essex, and along to the M11 junction where the journey north really begun.

It was fine, the trip through Essex. The road was busy, but kept moving, and thinned out nearer to Cambridge, turning west along the newly upgraded A14, heading to the bottom of the M6, some 90 minutes away.

I had podcasts playing, I really needed music, but the radio in the car was way too difficult to work out when driving.

Then up the M6, which was busy, but again traffic went at 70, as did I, and the miles slipped by.

I stopped at the services on the Toll, and this was the first indication that this was not a normal Friday, as it was packed.

I used the restroom and went back to the car, as everywhere serving food had queues.

Talking of queues, there was a ten minute wait at the toll plaza, but that is where the traffic really began.

Somewhere north of Stafford the jams started, and really did not end until I was nearly in Lancaster. Inching forward, sometimes up to 10 mph, mostly slower. It felt I would never get there.

Through Warrington, round Manchester and up to Preston, where just north of the town, queues melted away and I cruised the last half an hour at normal speed.

I found the Premier Inn second time round the one way system, I checked in and went to the "family" pub next door for dinner of a dreadful burger, soggy fries, and oily onion rings. Refills of Coke were, however, free.

I then drove to Silverdale to visit my friend, Richard for a pint and chat, and was treated to the glorious gloaming light over Morecombe Bay. I expected Brigadoon to appear.

I met Richard at the Silverdale Hotel, we each had a pint of Directors and then chatted. About orchids.

Sadly, I had to leave at about half nine, as I was to be up early in the morning, so bid him farewell, and drove back to Lancaster in the dusk, getting back just before nightfall.

Thursday 25th May 2023

This week in May was usually when four of my family, and an ex-wife, celebrated their birthdays. I did remember Dad's on Tuesday, and Thursday's would have been the secon Mrs Jelltex's birthday, and Sunday would have been Mum's.

They're all gone now, of course.

But life goes on.

And for Thursday I was hosting another orchidist who reached out for some help in seeing our two rarest orchids.

Both easy.

Anyway, this meant another early start, in order to drop Jools off at work, going via Tesco to fill up and get lunch, ten into HYthe to drop her off at the Hotel Imperial so she could get in half an hour's walk, and I drove to Step 24 to meet Vinny.

Half seven was the agreed time, and he did well to cover to 200 miles from his home and be just ten minutes late. I had half an hour to kill, so grabbed breakfast from Subway, and although the service was wonderful, the food was possibly the worst I have had, and as for the coffee......

Vinny arrived, we shook hands, and after a comfort break, we drove to Folkestone to see the Late Spiders, now there being four spikes out, a new one at the back of the bank looking majestic.

And from there we went via Barham to PGD for Monkey action. Its still early in the seaosn, with only at 10% of spikes in flower, but those that are open look wonderful.

The rest of his day, Vinny knew the sites, so we shook hands again and I saw him drive off. I had the rest of the day to myself, so what to do?

Well, there is the revisit to Temple Ewell to check on the Burnt Tip Orchid. My legs were telling me, as was my back, that this was a wild goose chase, a needle in a haystack and that I really could be doing something better with my time, like laying on the sofa. The weather had turned too, from sunshine, though the sunny intervals, and was now grey cloud, and chilly with it in that breeze.

So I set off up the down, up the steps, through the wood and up and up through one paddock, then the other.

Why was I doing this?

And it felt like it was trying to rain to make my mood even worse.

And then I saw it. A pink lollypop among the green.

I smiled. My aches gone in an instant.

It had returned.

I get my shots, and try to hide the spike, but that made it even more obvious something was there.

I let it be.

I turned and walked back up the down, whistling and smiling, the weariness in my legs long forgotten.

Once back home, I fire off a mail to the county recorders to let them know, but they had already seen it, but thanks me for the mail.

I had breakfast, a brew, and thought about putting the heating on.

I go back out at four to pick up Jools from work, coming back to cook dinner of burgers, at Jools's request, although we did sup on free apple juice instead of beer or cider.

Cheers.

Re. content warning

When I posted the previous blog, I got an automated content warning. I don't believe there is anything in it that breaks any such guidelines.

It contains tales of orchids, butterflies and beer.

As usual.

Not sure what I can do about it to be honest.....

Wednesday 24th May 2023

Through the long, dark winter days, we dream of the warm spring days, when we can walk in the countryside observing the fabulous Kentish foral bounty that the county has to offer.

This was very much one of those long, warm, sunny and windless spring days, and I did visit several orchid sites, took lots of photos, and all while showing a fried round, thus having someone to talk to all day, and to slump, satisfied in the pub at the end of the afternoon, pint of foaming beers in hand.

Al is a farmer, and last year I went to visit his farm as they have turned field margins into wildflower friendly areas, so when he said he had a few Southern Marsh Orchids, he meant he had thousands.

Thousands and thousands.

And Al asked if I would take him round. So I said I would. I would be visiting sites anyway. So why not have company?

After coffee and a rushed breakfast, I drive Jools to the factory, drop her off on the promenade, then high tail to Stanford where his farm was. Al was relaxing on a bale of hay, sipping from a mug of tea.

"Ready?"

Ready.

He got in, and I take us to the first orchid site, where we would find more and more Late Spiders, the first he has seen, and the bank is dotted with spikes, half of which were in flower.

We linger for half an hour, he getting shots, and I retaking man of the ones I had taken on Tuesday.

Its a short drive to Denge Wood, along the valley of a minor winterbourne, that seldom flows, and when it does, it trickles, really. Through Petham, and out into the woods, nabbing the final parking space on the lane.

It is a perfect day. The sun is high in the blue sky, and the trees are now laden with fresh foliage, on the woodland floor the buebells had gone to seed, and the summer flowers, though not in flower yet, are reaching for the sky.

Its a mile walk along the woodland drive to the reserve, its not quite level, but is pleasant enough, and there are things to see both sides, and the possibilities of seeing a butterfly or two. In the end, a couple of Speckled Woods were all we saw. Up the final slope to the reserve, down the steps, and begin looking for the fabulous Duke of Burgundy butterflies.

Its not quite half nine, it had been a cool night, so any butterflies out would be lethargic and basking, a couple were disturbed from the long grass as we walked. We managed to get shots of the Dukes, so then we could concentrate on the orchids.

Bonsai Bank is best known for the large numbers of Lady Orchids, and after a couple of years of falling numbers, this seems to be a better year, with spikes repopulating the upper slopes of the reserve, though we saw no pure white spikes, but some salmon pink ones, and a fine hyper-coloured one, so dark the purple was nearly black.

We walk back along the lower path, seeing many Greater Butterflies, but none in flower.

It is quite the hike back to the car, most of it uphill, which my back made it clear it was unhappy about.

Al then said, did I want to go to a private wood to look at more orchids?

Well, yes!

We were off to see Ann, who runs a farm in one of the valleys that cut through the downs, and above the fields are her woods.

We pulled up in the car, and the family were out expecting us, so we stood around having a chat and gossiping, before we climbed into Ann's car and she took us through meadows of waving grass to a makeshift style into the woods.

A hundred yards in, we come to the first orchids: Lady, Twayblades, Fly and Butterflies, the last of which were not yet in flower, so would they be Greater or Lesser? The answer came a few minutes later wit a single spike partially open. They were greater.

So, I know that at this end of the valley the Butterflies are Greater, but about a mile further along, on the other side fo the valley, they are Lesser. Wonder what makes the dfference, and if it is just being on different sides of the valley?

Something to think about.

Back at the farm we were treated to flasses of apple juice which is made on the farm, a selection to try, from sweet to sharp. Sharp is best, and I was given three bottles of juice for Jools.

Two more calls to make: the first at Woolage to show the emerging Birds-nests and masses of White Helleborines. despite it being a couple of miles from the farm, neigher had been here before, and the numbers of Helleborines are remarkable. Birds-nests were photographed, and from there we went to the last site, PGD to see the Monkeys.

The car park was full, and people were parking on the banks of the lane, but two cars were just leaving as we arrived, so we reversed in once they left, and we could walk to the entrance to the reserve.

JUst up the down were the most advanced spikes, several fully open and looking gloriously made wit flowers resembling monekys, falling over each other. At least when viewed through my camera eyepiece.

We take shots, then walk down to the far end of the reserve to see the Fly that were open, and again check on status of Butterfly Orchids, and greaterones again. No spike yet fullyformed, and at least two weeks from opening.

And that was that, a full day, and I had 90 minutes to kill, so I suggested retiring to the Drum Inn near the farm for a pint and reflection, which is what we did. Looking quite small from the outside,The Drum is a fine modern pub that keeps good ale and does good food, by all accounts. We sank into plump armchairs and taked about what we had seen through the day.

That gave me half an hour to get to Hythe to be on time at five to collect Jools from the factory, and drive us home for our dinner.

I cooked fresh asparagus in butter and made garlic bread.

Lovely.

Tuesday 23rd May 2023

So, the first week day orchiding.

And it was a packed day. The plan was to pick up a fellow orchidist, and we go round to some new sights for him.

Jon is the author of a rather good orchid book, and I am rather pleased to call him a friend. Not because of the book, but because he's a top bloke too.

We only have one car, so the first issue was to get Jools to work, so after coffee we drive off towards Dover, past the docks then up the A20 and M20 to Folkestone, before turning off to go over the downs into Hythe.

I drop Jools off in the centre of town, program Jon's address in Herne Bay, and set off with a pod cast going, up through the Elham Valley to the A2 and then along the A2 and Thanet Way.

Jon was waiting, so he loads his camera bag in the back, and we are off on a jolly boy's outing, stopping first at Pegwell Bay.

Hidden away on the old hoverport is a small colony of yellow Man Orchid, though this year numbers are well down, and still no sign of any Bee Orchids.

We climb the steps beside the Viking ship, then along the long-abandoned roads to the place where the orchids should be. One year there was 180 spikes here, but this year, maybe 30.

Jon hadn't seen them before, so even with just the one densely populated yellow spikes, so he gets close ups, and we move on to the reserve next door to check on the Southern Marsh Orchids and maybe a hybrid.

After parking at Ebbsfleet (the other one), cross the main road, and through the style.

It was early, but still a handful of SMO and a weedy Common Spotted Orchid, and one partially open hybrid of the two.

The main task of the day was to visit a secret location where the hybrid of the two Butterfly Orchid species had been recorded.

We drove along the coast, and found the wood with no trouble, but there was no one there, and to be honest, we both felt uneasy about trespassing, even in the name of orchids.

But by then, something else had come up, and I had to get Jon back to Herne Bay ASAP, so we zoom back along Thanet Way to Herne Bay, drop him off, and for me, I had the afternoon to fill.

With orchids.

I drove over to Sandwich Bay to look at the emerging Lizards, and also, as a bonus the ultra-rare Bedstraw Broomrape.

This does involve walking across two fairways of the golf course, get a wave from the be-Pringled at the tee that it was safe to proceed, then out through the gate onto The Strand.

Just a few steps on, I found the first of the Broomrapes, and it was a perfect spike. I get down to snap it from all angles.

With no Lizards out, and the Broomrape snapped, I turned back to the car, over the golf course, though no Marsh Harriers seen at the nest near the observatory.

What now?

Late Spiders.

I put on podcast, a pair of sunglasses, engaged all gears and lurched off for Folkestone.

It was turning into a wonderful day, lots of sunshine, though the breeze was just too strong for macro work outside.

At Folkestone, I park the car and walk up the the site, where there were two spikes open, one near the fence was good to photograph, but with it not yet being two, I could go to Wye down to the colony there.

I agreed with myself that this was a good idea, so set off up Stone Street then through Hastingleigh to the down, where I nab the parking spot, climb the fence, and walk up the slope, where I see all cages were already in place, and each one covering a spike, and about six had flowering spikes in them.

Near one was a spike without a cage, and its sepals were of the darkest purple, a wonderful spike and one to snap over and over again.

I do most of the other spikes too, but having taken another half hour out of the afternoon, I had two hours to kill.

So I go to the pub.

The New Flying Horse in Wye. I have a pint of organic ale sitting in the beer garden, sitting in the shade of a parasol.

I could get used to living like this!

After that, I still had an hour to kill, so drove to the Devil's Kneading Trough, parked up and walked down the slope where I found a bench on the edge of a sheer drop.

That would do.

So, for half an hour of so, I watched the light play on the slopes of the down as the wind blew the clouds across the sky, whilst skylarks sang for the joy of flight high above.

That was my day, how was yours?

I drive to the facory to colled Jools, then drive home through the usual heavy traffic.

Once home we dine on Iberian ham and salad with fresh bread I had picked up.

We ate like kings and toasted our good luck and happy lives.

Cheers.

Monday 22nd May 2023

With nine straight days orchiding planned, something had to go wrong. And that was:

the weather.

Monday dawned cloudy, cool and breezy, and never really changed.

I could tell it was set for the day, so I told Jools to take the car and I would do "chores" at home.

That was agreed, so Jools went at quarter to six, leaving me with a stack of podcasts to listen to, videos on that YoTube to watch, blogs to write, photos to edit, chilli to make, and garden to mess with.

There just wouldn't be enough hours in the day.

And I was right.

I make the tomato sauce after breakfast, then brown the mince, add the stock and spiced, then simmer for several hours through the day. I had a bowl for lunch, just to check on taste for QC purposes, and was fine. Just a slight burn.

Between, I write, edit and listen to stuff. The morning flies by.

The cats sleep, and outside it feels like March with thick cloud, and a cold north wind.

It was supposed to get better on Tuesday.

It had better!

After lunch I watch a couple of videos before going out to do the garden: a species of wild garlic, hoary I think, had sprouted all along the street, I plucked the flowers to make sure it doesn't seed. The tackle the thick grass under the feeders.

The fox was waiting, so I put some peanuts and fat balls out. It takes a fat ball right away and trots out of the garden, back to the den I guess. I then get the shears out and get snipping.

The afternoon had passed. I had done all chores, blogs all written, and just need to prepare dinner.

We had chorizo hash and the last of the fizz.

A dinner of champions. Then follow that up with a slice of tart each. And coffee.

Yummy.

There was football in the evening; Toon v Leicester. Leicester really needed to win, and were poor. Ten men behind the ball, but it worked, and they nearly snatched it in the final few minutes.

League season finished Sunday, but the season will go on.......

Sunday 21st May 2023

Sometimes we forget what little acts of kindness can do for people.

One good act will make someone's day. Maybe Year.

Four years ago I was contacted by a lady via e mail asking about the then recently discovered "green" Fly Orchid. Could I give her directions?

I did, and heard nothing.

For four years.

Two weeks or so back I get a follow up mail, asking if the orchid was out. It wasn't, but I would keep tabs on it. And on Thursday I got news that one spike had opened and was indeed gloriously green.

I let Sarah know (not her real name), and she said that they, her and Philip (also not his real name) would be down the weekend. I had no idea where they lived, but two nights were booked in a hotel and we would met at the gate to the reserve at 11 on Sunday.

So, that was my Sunday taken care of, I would make my way there at nine, via Woolage (to check on the Bird's Nest Orchids).

Sunday mornings are not so focussed on getting up and going out like Saturdays are, but I still had to be out fairly sharpish. We had coffee, fruit, croissants and then more coffee.

Perfect.

Jools would stay home and chill, while I would go out and dazzle.

Woolage is a former mining village, now set in quiet contryside, and just two small works of art that mark the once great Kentish coal industry. I park on the main road, walk over the annoying recently mowed village green towards the wood.

I vanish into the almost invible gap in the folliage, and was inside a dark, green space, with the thich carpet of leaved deadening every sound. I had been told there were three spikes to find, so I set along the main drag, then down the side path. I thought my orchid eyes were failing me, and then I saw a fairly large spike, in flower, just sticking out of the dead leaves.

So, I get down to get my shots. Some orchids you can snap leaning over and looking down, BNOs, it seems, you cannot.

I did find the second spike on the path as I was told, so found two out of three.

And that aint bad.

Into the car and drove across the A2, through Barham, down the Elham Valley, then across past PGD onto Stone Street, and finding the small lay bay free for the 4th visit this year, I reverse in and get the camera out. I had an hour to kill, with just orchids and butterflies to keep me occupied.

So I walk along the very familiar tracks, but see new stuff, like a Greater Butterfly Orchid nearly out on a place I had never seen them before. I stopped for twenty minutes at the bench, taking in the view, thinking of the long, dark winter months just dreaming of days like this.

I walk on, lots of Fly Orchids to see and enjoy, and further on many Lady Orchids too.

I am at the gate waiting, when:

once they arrived helped carry their stuff to the clearing so they go be in the presence of Green and take shots.

As we were doing the introductions, a familiar figure appeared from up the Gogway, I knew that had. It was Jon, author and tour guide who had also come to pay respects to the green Fly. We greeted each other, swapped news, and we let Jon go ahead.

It took Philip maybe half an hour to get up the 400 yards to the clearing, but he did it, and he finally got to see the Green Fly.

I left them to it, made my way down and back to the car, as I had invited them back to Chez Jelltex for coffee and tart.

They said they were coming.

And we had to have lunch before.

So, back home without incident, and together we make Caprese, working as a team. I toast the last of the bread to go with it, and we can sit down to eat, then clear up and be ready when they appeared at half two.

We all sat on the patio in the sun, I made coffee and sliced up the tart, so we could then sit for a couple of hours talking about orchids, botany and other wildlife.

It was all rather pleasant and civilised.

At half four they say they should be getting back, so they walk to the car turn round and are gone. They will drive back to Devon tomorrow, Philip 90, with his problems wanted to come to Kent to see that one orchid. And he did.

I went to watch football. Citeh, already Champions, were playing, not sure who to be honest. Once Citeh scored, the match had the look and feel of a practice match, and that was that. But very unengaging, I have to say.

Citeh are worty champions, and have played some wonderful football. But nothing is left to chance.

From the top down to the bottom of the club, the best people make decisions, and generally are the right ones. I can't remember them making a poor signing in years, and the players seem to love it. Yet it feels so soulless. Citeh are a front for a Middle Eastern State sportswashing machine, and the money spent, no matter how wisely, is bloodstained.

This is the 4th Championship in five years, so very predictable, and getting a little boring, no matter how brilliant they are.

What if they domnate for another two years? Five years? Decade?

Will we still watch?

13 wasted years

On 6th May 2010 there was a General Election, after six days of negotiating, on 11th May Cameron was made PM after the Conservatives entered coalition Government with the LibDems.

Although at the time, those 5 years were viewed very badly for the LibDems, with hindsight we can perhaps say they stopped the Conservatives going off the rails, big time.

In 2015, in order to fend off the Brexit Party, Cameron promised a simple in/out referedum on membership of the EU.

The rest, as they say, is history.

So, the Conservatives have been power, as the largest party for eight years two of which was the hung Parliament that argued over the details of the TCA and WA, so that is six years with, as DAG says, is the biggest gift in UK democracy: a working majority.

The Goverment, having a majority, should be able to get whatever agenda it want's through Parliament. Especially if these are manifesto pledges, then by convention, the Lords could not block it.

But the Conservative and Union Party has pissed it away.

Partly because it is riven with factions, although Johnson purged the traditional "one nation" moderates in the run up to the 2019 election.

At which he won an 80 seat majority, which apart from passing his Oven Ready Brexit, it has done nothing, mainly because nothing what could be described as radical can be agreed. Any weakening on the PM's headbanging agenda would threaten a vote of no confidence, though the Windsor Framework has tempered that, but with every move to a more rational relationship with the EU is something like the Uganda or flotating prisons for migrants to use as red meat to the headbangers.

Heck, he can't even sack the Home Secretary for running her own immigration policy, or breaking the law by speeding, denying it, four times, trying to get the Civil Service to get her out of the points by arranging some one to one re-education.

Quite what a Minister would have to do, even under Sunak, to have found to have broken toe Ministerial Code is something of a mystery. Braverman was once sacked for bullying under the code, by the then PM Truss, but a week alter Sunak brought her back into Government.

So, we drift, rudderless towards a General election, still some 18 months away. Each day the country shets a little shittier, our rivers more polluted, more countryside built on, and the Government refuses to act, instead asking water companies not to pollute. Isn't that what the Evironmental Agency and the Secretary of State for the Environment are actually for?

Saturday 20th May 2023

The weekend.

And the start of (another) week off.

I am using most of my annual holiday before the end of June because, well, th's when nature explodes. The week, this week, I hope to be full of orchids.

And of course, being a Saturday, that meant starting with shopping, so off to Tesco we went, back in the Audi now, and just driving to the supermarket is a pleasure in the Audi. We go round and get the usual stuff, filling the trolley up. I wish I could say it is getting cheaper, but we are lucky we have the money to be able to ride this out, we do know others won't be so lucky.

We went back home and had a fine breakfast of fresh strawberries, rapberries and blueberries with a coffee, then half an hour later I made bacon butties, so all was set for me to go out to meet friends on the latest orchid search. On the way I dropped Jools off at Tesco so she could catch a bus into Canterbury, then I could carry on to Temple Ewell where Terry and Graham were waiting.

This was the first in the annual search for the Kentish Burnt (Tip) Orchids, which would involve a climb almost to the top of the down, along some, then down into the next reserve. My back is sore (as always), Terry had a sore something, and Graham was receovering from a knee operation. So, going was slow with lots of stops to talk and take in the view.

We reached the top, took a deep breath, then we plunged down the other side. On the way down there is a colony of Early Spiders, which are a little darker than their cousins that live down near the sea, these hunker down on crest on the down, its always windy here, so they are a little stunted, but in perfect condition, the site and weather making these a week or two later than those down on the Hoe.

We stopped to take shots, then continue down to the small area of down where we hoped to see the Burnt Tips.

Sadly, despite an hour of searching, we found no ign. It might be early, so us walking might do damage, so we stopped. On the other side I looked for signs of the Bee Orchids I had found a few years before, but of those too there was no sign either. Maybe conditions just changed, I don't know.

We gave up and walked back up the down, into the light of the nearly midday sun. With the views down to Temple Ewell on the right hand side, and the valley stretching towards Dover, was a fine sight indeed, and without our target found, the whole walke and search was worth it.

I got a call from Jools saying she was on the way back from Canterbury, so I had half an hour. So, we went in convoy to Lydden Hill, parking on the side of the road to check on the colony of Man Orchids, which I saw two weeks back are there in larger numbers this year. Now, they spikes were nearly in full flower, and with spikes on the bank and on the level beside the storm drain, we really had to watch our step to ensure we damaged none.

I was out of time, so said goodbye to the lads, climbed over the fence, dashed back to the car so to be at Tesco when her bus arrived. I was two minutes late, but no worries. She got in and we drove home, where the task for the day was to make Limoncello and Grappa Tart, as for some reason I had decided that I would make it.

I cheated and bought ready-made pastry, but the rest I did. Cracking and separating a dozen eggs, needing only the yolks, then adding the ground almonds, sugar and the booze. I pour the mix into a raspberry filled lines flan tin, popped it in the over to bake for an hour.

And then there is football, of course. The season is winding down, but seems to go on and on. I listen to the radio, then later watch whatver game was on at half five.

We have the radio on, funk and soul with Craig, so pretty much the perfect evening.