Thursday 29th June 2023

Or, over halfway through the year and nearly at the end of the month.

In India there was another public holiday, my two Danish colleagues are still in Taiwan, and my boss, well, she had her house are recovering from two student arties the same evening.

I was home, working. Alone.

Not counting cats.

Today, we were supposed to have storms, so I turn on the storm radar and see the nearest are in the South of France, and although winds were blowing them north, they were light.

Rain did come at ten, and carried on for six hours, never really getting heavy, but steady enough to do the garden good.

It even got breezy and cold enough not only to close the back door, but to put a jumper on too.

Once work finished, I sat on the sofa with Scully and read the rest of WSC, while outside the last of the rain fell.

Dinner was easy: asparagus fried in butter and the last of the bread, followed by oversweet shop-bought cheesecake to go with the evening coffee.

A quiet day in a quiet week.

Wednesday 28th June 2023

Just over two weeks ago, my friend Rob, passed away after a short battle with cancer.

He was 14 days older than me.The weather has all gone a but meh, if meh is still a thing. Wednesday started out bright but soon clouded over, and that was that.

Another friend, Mark, posted the other day that he had then lived one day longer than his father. Got me thinking, and if I see dawn on the 19th of July this year, I will have lived longer than my Father too.

"Uncle" John said a few years back, that he has a funeral suit, maybe I need one too?

On Monday I will travel to Ipswich for Rob's funeral, mourn a complicated life lived. There is a memorium page online created by the funeral directors where family and friends can make comments, or thoughts and post shots.

For all Rob's colourful life, there will be a webpage, that can be printed out. We have our memories, but the world carries on turning.

Not sure what I'm trying to say here, most of us are trying to live from day to day, and in the end hope we did more good than bad and that people will remember uswell. If at all.

Thanks to Facebook, I am a member of four groups featuring members of my former RAF trade, and each week one or two of the bretheren passes away. Most are about my age, some even younger. I guess this is what life is like now, being witness to the cruelty and efficiency of death.

RIP, Rob.



Wednesday.

The weather has all gone a but meh, if meh is still a thing. Wednesday started out bright but soon clouded over, and that was that.

So, from what a bright and almost sunny morning, turned into a cooler day, only brightening up again in the late afternoon, by which time the postman had brought me the latest WSC, so I sat on the patio with Scully and read that instead of going for that much delayed and promised walk.

Other than that, there is always work.

I am guessing these updates are quite dull when compared to those from three weeks back when we went looking for polar bears and the such north of Svalbard, but in order to do those things, I have to do work, like this.

I did speak to a recruiter, though. And he asked the question that in interviews, we all dread: what sort of pay would you want if something came along?

Do you pitch low, so low they might think you don't know what you're talking about, or too high to make you unemployable?

I thought for 30 seconds and gave a figure. I was asked to repeat it, which might not be a good sign.

Anyway, let's move on.

I walked round the garden later, snapping stuff for picture of the day, and came across a bee on the everlasting pea behind the shed. We got the pea as its the food plant of the Long Tailed Blue butterfly, and the only location they can be found in Kent is two miles away at Kingsdown.

Maybe we'll get one.

Or not.

The day ended, I read some, while Scully snoozed and snored on the table beside me.

Dinner was easy; Caprese again with the bread from the day before. And then reflect on the day afterwards.

Tuesday 27th June 2023

Suddenly its high summer. Lots of daylight, if the temperature has dropped, its not by much, and so time is spent between what we want to do and what we have to do.

We have to work.

For now.

And so, for me, there was an audit to carry out. Its my job, so should expect to do it once in a while. At least we agreed there was no need to travel to Denmark for it.

And in the afternoon, I was going to harvest our yellow rattle seed, so I don't need to buy some, or as much, in the autumn.

Day set, then.

Audits are, well work, and for many its something like a interrogation, and for the auditor, it really isn't fun putting people under pressure.

So it was good that this one went well, lots of positives and no negatives.

And done just after lunch so I had time to write most of the report before the end of the working day.

Which was nice.

The lawnmeadow is at its best now, a sea of ox-eyed daisies, swaying in the wind, dotted with the purple flowers of some late corncockles or our Pyramidal orchid. I look for other flowers, but the ox-eyed daisies do take over.

I gather a large envelope of seeds and seedheads, ponder whether to go for a walk, decide not to, so sit in the garden to read and keep Scully company.

Jools had bought a bag of Italian bread mix, so I add water, mix and knead. I look at the instructions and it said to leave to rise for 20 minutes. I thought I knew best and left it an hour.

By the time I returned to the bread monster it had taken over half the oven, but the application of gas mk 8 stopped it right in its tracks.

The bread was to go with Caprese, of course, which on a cool but humid evening was perfect with the still-warm bread.

Monday 26th June 2023

How'd you know they're lillies?

'Cos Lilly's wearing 'em!

Oh my old man's a dustman.......

We packed a lot into the weekend, so in some ways it was good to be back at work and stuck inside the house.

That being said, it was hot and humid. And had been for the previous two days.

Sunday night was the worse, I felt I had hardly slept, and so woke with a woolly head desperate for coffee.

At work, my two colleagues in DK had both flown to Taiwan over the weekend, meaning I had no one to chew the fat with.

The day dragged.

I did get my travel expense approved. Its much easier when someone tells you what is needed to be done. Then the computer said "yes".

It did cloud over in the afternoon, meaning I wasn't tempted to go for a walk, just a wander with the camera round the garden so snap the lilies growing beside the drive, and crushing a lily beetle that was laying eggs.

A cool breeze built, to take the edge of the afternoon, and gave hope of sleep for the forthcoming night.

I prepared dinner, fritters with last week's courgettes, which came out fine. The red wine was most welcome too.

From then it was a wait until it was deemed late enough to go to bed, though it was still light outside.

7 (seven) wasted years

The weekend saw the 7th anniversary of the referendum result which saw the electorate of the UK vote by a narrow margin to leave the EU.

The referendum itself was advisary and so non-binding.

Sucecssive Governments not only have treated the result as binding, and "voice of the people", the narrowness of the victory itself was forgotten, and 52% rounded up to 100% and 48% rounded down to zero.

"You lost, get over it", we who wanted to remain were told.

As Brexit has failed to deliver its promised nirvana, we respond with "you won, get over it".

Someone once said, "a Government competant to deliver Brexit wouldn't". And so its numerous failures have been blamed on everything except that its Brexit itself that is to blame.

The Civil Service is blamed most often, for prosecuting Brexit policies, for being the establishment remain blob. But, the reality is, you can't polish a turd, it'll always be shit, and so it is with Brexit.

Brexiteers fear that first step in closer relations with the EU, as they think it'll lead to many more.

It will.

Holding back the tide or closer, normal relations is like holding the tide back. Its not going to work.

But for the time being, until one or both the main parties admit that Brexit wasn't the brightest idea, we will play the charade of "pin the blame on somethig else".

These Brexit posts have pretty much stopped as there is little to say until the elephant in the room is exposed, and as a country, we decide to do something about it.

Meanwhile, with each passing day, the nation gets poorer, and the country a little bit more run down.

Sunday 25th June 2023

FIXMAS.

6 months to Christmas.

After the hunt was cut short on Friday due to time constraints, I arranged to meet my friend, Terry, back at the site on Sunday morning.

And as Sunday was due to be the warmest, if not hottest day of the year, we were going to be there early.

Jools and I had coffee, then packed to leave, reaching the site via quiet lanes well before eight, but the temperature was already building.

A quick search of the original site, then a walk along the down to the newly found (by us) one, where could already see Terry high above us.

Also there was a guy from Devon, another Graham, and he had come to look to.

So, the four of us began to search the down for the little green bugger.

I am pretty sure we looked at every spike, at least once, and although we found some very nice spikes, not the one we were looking for.

A short drive away is the site I saw the hybrid last year, and this really was the last throw of the dice stuff. Its a long hike up the down, and across to the steep side.

Here, the spikes were already well past their best, with just a couple worth seeing and snapping, but certainly nothing of any note.

It was half eleven, twenty six degrees, and too hot for any more.

We all bailed.

Jools and I drove home, where once inside we both had a long, cold drink before brunch of fruit and croissants.

For three hours we sweltered inside, too hot for anything. But then came the cooking.

I asked Jen what she and Sylv would like to eat on Sunday: "roast" said Jen.

So, on the hottest day of the year, I roasted leg of lamb for some two hours, steamed vegetables, roasted potatoes and baked Yorkshire puddings.

By six, it was like I had crawled in the oven, but the meal was wonderful, and most cleared their plates.

But still hot.

We sat outside in the shade of the house for an hour, just talking, by which time it was eight and time for Jen and Sylv to go home, and for Jools and I to clear away the last of the washing up, have a brew, then go to bed.

Phew rock and roll.

Bring back Liz Truss!

If that is the answer, what the heck was the question?

If you remember, Liz Truss was Prime Minister of the UK for some 34 days last Autumn, and despite half her time in office there was no actual politics, due to the Queen dying and being buried, she and her Chancellor did manage to neary destroy the economy, needing a £74bn injection from the Bank of England to stop most of the UK pension funds from collapsing.

The policies her Government executed, were the ultimate form of those pushed by the Institute of Economic Affairs, and others in the offices at 55 Tufton Street, self-proclaimed free marketeers, to who the actual free market look at and baulked.

That seventy four billion quid has to be paid for, and that is with interest rate rises, which fuels higher housing and borrowing costs. Not only that, Government debt funding, "Guilts", have seen the interest rate for the 2 year version now exceed that at the time of Trussenomics.

The Bank of England, now being briefed against by the Cabinet Office and members of the Government, has just one weapon in its armoury to tackle inflation: interest rates.

If monetary and iscal policy are not done together, then one has to play aganst the other:

"Monetary policy and fiscal policy refer to the two most widely recognized tools used to influence a nation's economic activity. Monetary policy is primarily concerned with the management of interest rates and the total supply of money in circulation and is generally carried out by central banks, such as the U.S. Federal Reserve (Fed). Fiscal policy is a collective term for the taxing and spending actions of governments. In the United States, the national fiscal policy is determined by the executive and legislative branches of the government. "

It s Government fiscal policy that is in trouble, high levels of economic inactivity caused by the combined effects of COVID and Brexit, and a blunt refusal to even contemplate how changing our national relationship with the EU could make the economy do better.

The Chairman of the Bank of England blames galloping wages for the pressure on inflation and the need for higher interest rates, but for most of the workforce, pay has barely kept track of inflation, and in the last year with interest rates and energy costs rising, wages have falled far behind. So, stifling demand by increasing interest rates will only affect those with a mortgage that isn't locked into a fixed rate/term deal. The latest 0.5% interest rate rise will add about £600 a month to the average household bill, but in relaity that will affect only some 20%. But for those it does, will be ruinous.

Galloping inflation, rising interest rates, rising mortgages, huge economic inactivity and increasing barriers to trade with the EU make for a toxic economy, and the reality of a recession in the next near likely.

Meanwhile, with Sunak's popularity sinking fast, Conservative voices have been whispering that maybe Truss should return.

Yes, that's just what the country needs.

Saturday 24th June 2023

We did so much yesterday, and yet so little of it that would provide a shot of the day.

Lots planned, so up with the larks, and after coffee, we went to Tesco to stock up, then to the butchers in Preston (Kent) only to find the main road in the village was blocked due to a new gas mane being put in. I parked as close as I could get and walked.

Back home for breakfast, then out, dropping Jools off in town, then I went along the A2 to Barham, then across to PGD, in the hope of finding Musk Orchids.

I had the whole site to myself for two hours. I walked to the right spot, and started looking.

And carried on looking.

And followed my more searching.

And at one, I gave up. By now the spikes should be easily visible, and yet I saw none. Maybe they're late due to the cold spring, I don't know.

I did snap Fairy flax, which is the picture of the day, as well as snapping a mating pair of Meadow Browns.

But back home for a quick lunch of death by bacon, then baked a batch of short cakes, because at three we had been invited to a garden party at Walter's house, which is opposite ours.

Once baked and cooled down, we went over, once having changed, and found after 30 people there, various teas on offer, and an elderflower champagne cocktail. I had the latter.

But it was so hot, many were uncomfortable, but too polite to mention it. We stuck it our for 90 minutes, then made our excuses to home where we both had a long, cool drink of iced squash before relaxing, and the final act of the day: meeting Sean and Ange at what used to be Namaste at the Swingate, but is now called Chef de Mumbai as its under new owners.

Anyway, its a five minute drive for us, so needless to say we were late, and nearly hit head on by another car on the way as the guy seemed to lose concentration and had to do an emergency stop to avoid hitting us.

It was all over so quick, it was a "did that really happen" moments, but the smell of burnt rubber was in the air as we passed.

Sean and Ang arrived when we di, so we went in and were shown to our table, left the menu. All painless. We skipped a starter, a went straight for mains: all variations of lamb curry, rice and a naan. It was excellent. And all over by nine, so Jools and I drove home in the gloaming, to sit on the patio and watch bats do cartwheels trying to catch moths.

Friday 23rd June 2023

Last day of the week, and if I am honest, beginning to feel a little bit better after suffering more than I'd like to admit since knacking my back before going to Svalbard.

This was the first time I have felt sure on my feet since then, happy and confident as my brain ordered them plates to climb a down, and they obeyed and I didn't feel like I was going to come tumbling back down.

But before all that, there was work. And putting out the bins.

Jools went to yoga, so was on bin duty. Made a second coffee and made ready for work.

My colleagues are travelling this weekend, both going to Taiwan, meanwhile I will have an online audit on Tuesday. My audits are loaded to the second half of the year, so for now I try to make sense of our planning "tool", and try to make sense of the chaos.

Its different chaos from the usual general chaos.

I have chosen to pick a fight with someone two corporate levels above me, mainly because I am right and they're not. And because, what the fuck?

Anyway, the morning was spent swapping messages as they were too busy for a call. And is going on holiday at the end of the day.

So I throw a few grenades over the wall before signing off, and smiled to myself.

Jools returned at half one, changes and we go out. It was a glorious afternoon, she was going to go swimming in the harbour, and I was going to meet Graham and look for orchids.

An orchid.

Jools said not to hurry back, so I wouldn't. Within reason.

Drove to Wye where I was to meet Graham, before I got in his car and we drove to another down.

Last week two people posted shots of a rare "yellow" form of a Late Spider, and after some detective work, I decided it was at the site we were about to explore. I had not been here before, and Graham had found it only a few weeks back, where he saw maybe 15 spikes.

We had to limbo under a fence, go along a track then up the down, where we saw the first Late Spiders.

In huge numbers.

And monster spikes too, one with 10 (ten) flowers, and many with unusual lip markings, colouration and one with a yellow spike.

And the spikes kept showing all up to the top of the down, but the orchid we came to find, we did not see.

Two hours passed, and I had to go to pick up Jools, so we walked back down to Graham's car, so he could run me to ours, then back along lanes to Stone Street and the short run to the motorway and to home.

Jools had met an old friend and they had talked for over an hour, so no worries on keeping her waiting.

We went back home, getting back at quarter past five, so time to feed the cats, and get ready for the quiz. Meanwhile, Jools went to collect a Chinese takeaway, so that when the quiz was done, I would be collected and we would go to Jen's for dinner and cards.

Sylv is still here, and running interference. She means well, but chaos follows here. Everywhere.

We eat well, then after packing away, we play cards, taking two hours to get through a game of Meld, as Sylv is poorly organised she seems just to stare at her cards. Jools helps here twice, and she wins the hands as a result.

But no John, it was too late for a hand of Queenie. So we went home.

Thursday 22nd June 2023

Thursday.

And I begin the day, once out of my pit, checking the moth trap I had set up the night before, and was rewarded by a single Elephant Hawk Moth, along with several brown jobs of various sizes and activity.

I'd go back to check on them, I told myself.

And then didn't, until dinner time.

Meanwhile, it was work and the usual stuff with which to fill my day.

Not much to report of any use, except I did get the confirmation of my pay award for this year, so in return I told my boss I had 26 months left before I retire.

But you're not old enough she wailed.

Well, yes.

And no.

So, having said when the time comes if I'm still happy, I'd carry on, we ended the meeting.

And then the migraine hit. Again.

Once the sparking lights started, there was nothing for it other than to give up work for an hour, sit in the dark and quiet.

And no sooner than I logged on to work again, than another began to build, so gave up for the day.

I spent the afternoon inside, in the dark, with a headache.

By the time Jools came back, I was feeling better, well enough to cook hash anyway. And drink wine.

Which was nice.

But I did head to bed at eight, read for a bit as the nights draw in.

He's history

Alexander Boris de Piffel Johnson is a lair.

He mislead the Commons on 8 (eight) occasions.

He mislead the Standard's Committee a further 11 (eleven) times.

The 90 day suspenstion form the House was greatly increased due to his personal attacks on members of the committee.

He pass to the Palace of Westminster, one that all ex-MPs get, has been revolked for life. Meaning the role of a lobbiest is now closed to him.

Johnson lied at the dispatch box and failed to correct the record at the nearest opportunity.

This we know as only 7 (seven) MPs voted against the report from the committee. That being said, almost all of the Conservative benches were empty, including the PM himself, many Ministers attended a Coservative Home summer ball instead of attending the Commons.

So much then for a new era of high standards and morals.

Can Johnson come back?

No one Parliament can bind a subsequent one, and a future Conservative Government could admit him into the party, even as an MP, but unclear whether the pass would prevent him carrying out his duties. That is certainly the case if he were to stand and win as an independant.

Johnson was not sanctioned for "partygate" or attending any gatherings. He was sanctioned for misleading the House. And who saw that the former journalist and MP twich sacked for lying or making up quotes would turn out to lie in the Palace of Westminster?

Just about everyone, of course. But because like Trump with the GOP, the Tories held their noses and went along with a "winner", until he stopped being a winner.

Wednesday 21st June 2023

Longest day of the year.

Third day back at work, and back in the old routine.

I sleep through the alarm, Jools gets ready for work, then has a coffee ready for me when I get up and she is about to leave.

I used to not go back to sleep once awake, but now I do. Most days.

Holiday season has not quite begun at work, the Danish part, but its close, and you really get the feeling everyone is on the slope towards the beach. My boss is off, though is because her two daughters have graduated, and once kids graduate over there, there is a two week party.

Exactly.

So, I get ready for work, and all is fine. My task for the day is to write a draft agenda for a series of audits I am to do at the beginning of September, and that will take most of the day.

Tap, tap, tap.

Went my fingers on the keyboard.

The day is going well, when out of nowhere I get an ocular migraine. There is nothing else other than to sit in the dark and wait it out.

It came close enough so I could log out at half two and not feel too guilty about missing much work.

I even go for a walk to try to reset whatever it is that triggers them.

Its been a while since I walked round the neighbourhood, and with the recent rain, my routes are somewhat limited.

So I go over the field to Fleet House, snapping all flowers, butterflies and insects I see, and there are more now to see, though the Common and Adonis Blues I see are very tatty and not long for this world.

Down past the farm I see deep and muddy puddles. That in itself isn't a problem, but the tracks beyond would be muddy too, so I decide to double back along Collingwood and to home.

Back home I feel washed out, so the planned trip out was cancelled, even when Jools said she'd come along.

There's always tomorrow, and even then, who knows?

And no football whatsoever to watch. I went to bed early.

Tuesday 20th June 2023

Second day back at work, and the day began with leaden skies, and got darker. Storms rolled along the Channel, petering out before they reach us.

And then skies darkened further, and a fresh storm began just offshore from St Margaret's. A strike even lead to a power cut at one point.

Rain hammered down for two or three hours, while the storm that had formed offshore, drifted along the North Seas coast of Belgium and the Netherlands.

It brightened up here, skies cleared and a few more butterflies were seen in the garden.

Winds picked, blew clouds over, turning the day from warm and humid to being much cooler.

Any plans for orchid chasing in the evening was shelved, and instead I spent my time preparing dinner: herb crusted lamb, Moroccan spiced rive and creamed spinach.

And wine.

A day in which a lot, and nothing, happened.

So it goes, so it goes.

Monday 19th June 2023

Monday.

Back to work.

Sigh.

Double sigh.

All vacations have to end sometimes, I know, but even still, with this it means that I now have to wait until Christmas without a day off, with the exception of the late summer bank holiday.

And it was sunny outside. All I wanted to do was to get out and do anything other than work.

But we have to earn a crust.

Jools was up at five, and as usual bustling about and almost ready to leave for the factory at six, and having made me a coffee too.

THe cats were all settled back down, like we've never been away, so I could listen to a podcast before work, set up the big screen and then sit and try to remember what my work password was.

I did remember, and once logged in, little point in doing much as Windows updates would surely soon be required.

I find that my travel expenses have been rejected, again.

Sigh.

And so back in the saddle like I've ever been away, whilst the rest of the company is on the slow down before the start of summer holidays at the end of next week.

I work through until have three, then think about going for a walk, though it was cloudy again, and by back suggested it wasn't a good idea. So, I put in my ear buds and listened to a podcast whilst looking at the garden, and before long it was dinner time.

Just salad and Jersey Royals for us, and no wine or beer for me, as I had decided, against my better judgement, to look for an orchid.

Not just any orchid. A rare and unusual one.

Blah.

Blah.

Blah.

So it was, I found myself standing at the gate to a little known site, looking at the herd of cattle that have just been introduced, and the bank of spikes behind.

I climb in, and the cows are interested, two even follow me up a while, but give up.

I look at spike after spike, but fail to see what I was looking for.

I climbed over the down to where there is another site, but got lost, and found myself on a steep bank with brambles and four feet high grass. I fell over numerous times, but got myself back, all now hot and bothered.

One final look at the spikes I did find. Nothing there, so I drove back home certain not to watch the football as England were playing their last game of the season against Macedonia.

Back home I did some stuff on the computer, but once the 5th goal went in, I joined Scully on the sofa to watch the last half hour as England made hay and won 7 (seven) - 0.

Picture of the day is our garden Pyramidal Orchid, this year with a second spike.

Sunday 18th June 2023

Sunday.

Last day of 12 days off, and a day in which we were expected to have heavy thundery showers all afternoon, so had better do something in the morning.

And after breakfast that something was to go to Sandwich Bay, because of Lizard Orchids and check on the Marsh helleborines.

Jools wanted to go swimming, so I said I'd drop her off at the pool on the way, as Sandwich is a 15 minute blast away, so the plan was set.

It was a cloudy start, so there'd be no butterflies or dragonflies, and Jools had found my pass for the estate which I had to exchange for a sticker, meaning free entry all year as long as I park at the observatory.

There was the Women's Open Gold tournament on, so for a while I thought I might not be able to get across the course, but turned out that was at the other links course.

Yay. I walked over the meadow and past the ringing area, and into the area of dune slacks at the Helleborines grow in. And at first I saw none, then once I got my orchid eye in, I saw hundreds of rosettes all around, some putting up a spike in the usual helleborine way.

There were dozens of Southern Marsh around to, which I learned this week, along with the Northern Marsh, have had their species status downgraded to sub-species, that of Broad Leaved Marsh Orchid (Dactylorhiza majalis).

Confusing.

Anyway, from there I took the path across the three fairways of the golf course, dodging flying balls and dressed in ridiculous clothes of pastel shades, heading for the safety of the gate onto the Strand.

On the way there were several Lizard spikes, and so more on the dunes beside the road. I snap many, but after a while was happy, so turned back for the car.

On the way back I saw another plant I had been looking for, Grass vetchling, a tall, willowy plant with a single pink pea-shaped flower, and being a windless day, was able to get a good shot of the flower.

Back then to the observatory, and as the sun had come out, a few butterflies were seen: Large Skipper, Small Skipper, Small tortoiseshell, and a single Dainty damsel having ventured far from her pond.

I went inside to get a drink, and met with John who helped arrange our trip to Svalbard, and we swapped news of things I saw on the trip after the one he did. We were very lucky, as we saw seven bears, his cruise saw just the one, and no Beluga.

Time was slipping, so I bid him farewell, and drove back to Whitfield where Jools was having a coffee in Subway.

I found three orchids she said, so we went to look, and three tall CSO spikes were growing in the formal border in front of the self-storage place.

We had to rush home, as Jen was back home, and back with Sylv, and we had been invited for Sunday dinner at one. So, we had to dash home so Jools could change, then drive to Whitfield to be on time.

Once there we admired the new skylight Mike had installed because the old one leaked, and we swapped news of things we have done. We regaled them with tales of the frozen north, of course.

Dinner was roast lamb, which was welcome, even if it was very hot in the house with both ovens going. We ate well, drank wine and made merry.

After eating, we could hear the rain falling, and we had left washing out on the line, so we made our excuses and went home.

The storm radar showed storms over Normandy, slowly drifting north and east, but slowly due to the light winds. We heard rumbles, but no storm arrived, though the rain did fall for hours.

We had butter fried asparagus for supper, before I watched yet more football: Spain v Croatia. Which isn't the last game of last season, as England play on Monday. And for those asking when the new season starts, I believe that to be Saturday when the preliminary rounds of the Champion's League start.

sigh.

Ever the victim, never to blame

Alexander Boris de Piffel Johnson wrone in a Spectator article that: "(about Liverpudlians) “seeing themselves whenever possible as victims”."For which he had to visit Liverpool and appologise in person for.

We can now see that it is Johnson himself who sees him as always the victim; that he was ambushed by a party, the remainer blob, the EU, he underlings, his Ministers, anyone, bar himself is ever to blame.

He is, not surprisingly, happy to always take the credit. Even for other people's work.

So it goes, so it goes.

The Standard's Committee have said he mislead Parliament on 8 separate occasions, then mislead the Committee itself a further 11 imes. But Johnson says that it is a witch hunt, a kangaroo court by the remainer blob who want to reverse Brexit.

His suspension was going to be far less until he started attacking the Committee and its members. The Committee noted that in March Johnson wrote in stating he would never use those terms, the Committee also noted that in his rebuttal of the report and recommendations, he used those very words.

Sadly, the Party he used to lead will, for the most part, not vote in accepting the report tonight, but will abstain. So will the current PM, so much for a new era of honesty and standards in politics, Mr Sunak?

Under these circumstances, the report will be accepted by those who will vote, and Johnson will be ceremonly suspended, but in addition lost his right to having a pass to enter Parliament again in the future, so if he were to stand as an independant MP, and won, he still could not enter The House to carry out his duties. This could be undone by a future Governmentm but seems a remote possibility at this point.

Today was a clear opportunity for the Conservative and Union Party to take a step back towards honesty and fact based politics in rejecting the liar that is their former leader. They have chosen not to.

As for Johnson, he will make noise. A lot of noise. Make lots of (well paid) speeches, cause interfearance. But his crime is to be Alxander Boris de Piffel Johnson. That is also his sentence.

Will history see him as the worst PM of all time? He was followed by Truss after all. But for the poison he injected and infected the body politic with, I think he may be. Only Cameron, whose decision to have a simple in/referendum that lead us on the path to madness comes close.

Saturday 17th June 2023

So, after the best part of five weeks doing little else than take photographs, I decided to spend Saturday painting the shed.

No I didn't, I went out orchiding.

Or did once we went to Tesco for the remainder of the shopping.

Another glorious warm day, that would be very good for photography,I thought.

Home for coffee and fruit for breakfast, before I packed my camera and headed to the Medway towns to meet up with two other people from my orchid group to hunt down some super rare orchids.

But then, they always are.

I drove up the A2/M2 to Chaham, turned off, and in a quiet residential area, I found Ian parked, so I pulled up behind him. Graham soon arrived too, and so we got out and set out down a narrow alleyway between the houses, into woodland behind.

Orchids are variable. Even the most common ones can produce spikes that are as rare as the rarest orchid species. And as all species can produce spikes with little or no pigmantation, they can also produce spikes with hyper-pigmantation.

Dactylorhiza fuchsii var. rhodochila, or a hyper-coloured Common Spotted Orchid. And in a colony where most spikes had strongly marked lips, there were four that really stood out, as the rings and dots had been covered by pigmantation, and the lips were a solid block of colour. I mean, I had seen shots of these, but to see them in person was something else.

We all took lots of shots, and then Graham said, I know of a colony of Lesser Butterfly orchids, would you like to see them?

We would.

The Lesser Butterfly at Barham have died out, and the ones at Stockbury seem to have had their flowers deliberately picked off this year, so another colony would be great to know about.

We drove in convoy for half an hour, met up in a pub car park, then drove in Graham's car to the end of a quiet, little used lane. A six-foot-sixer, Tony! And we set out on foot, a mile up the lane to a gate, where climbed over.

A car went by.

"What are you doing?"

We explained about the LBO and how rare they were and we knew they were in the wood. The gamekeeper knew about them too, and was happy to let us go, and if someone stopped us again, we could mention his name to say we had his blessing. We also said we would tell no one about the site.

We climbed over a fence into the wood, and shortly afterwards we saw the first of about twenty spikes, one measuring in at 68cm tall, and one that had a clear green colour to it.

We took shots of them all, though the humidity was getting to me, fogging the viewfinder and by glasses. Sometimes at the same time.

We walked back to the car, then droove back to the pub, so that we could go our separate ways. My plan was to head back to Dover, to call in at the council offices to see if the unusually marked Bee Orchid was showing.

It was, and had only just opened as the pollina had only just dropped and had not been visited by an insect yet.

I got shots, one of which came out rather well, even if i say so myself.

Then back home for a drink, then a bacon butty and a brew.

Phew, it was a scorcher.

I reviewed shots through the afternoon before we had Caprese again with the leftover bread from the day before.

Life was good.

We listened to Craig in the evening before heading up to bed at half eight.

Phew.

Friday 16th June 2023

Our first day back home, and after only four or five hours sleep, we were both pretty whacked.

But there were cats to collect and then wait on, and shopping to get, so after we had drunk our first coffee, Jools went to collect the cats, but on the way had bought some fruit and stuff to see us through the day so we could go shopping as normal on Saturday.

The cats were happy to be home, sniffing everywhere and generally pleased to see us and I guess to have the freedom to roam.

Before we left for the Arctic, it had been if not cold, but chilly for weeks, with that cold north-east wind blowing.

Well, since we left, that has stopped and the garden has exploded into life, the meadow a sea of ox-eye daisies, the Pyramidal has flowered, and maybe produced two spikes, as well as lots and lots of Corncockle.

And its warm.

Hot even.

Washing was done and clean clothes put away, and gradually the house returned to normal. But we did little else.

We dined on Caprese in the afternoon, then tried to stay awake, before I settled down to watch the England game in Malta.

Then to bed, to dream.

And see where to buy some new legs.

Guilty

Yesterday, at 09:00 UK time, the Parliamentary Eithics Committee released its report on whether former PM, Alexander Boris de Piffel Johnson, misled the House.

The concluded he did.

And recommended a 90 day suspension from the Commons, when just one of 10 days would have triggered a by-election.

Instead of fighting what Johnson calls an injustice and kangaroo court, toe make representations to those who voted him their MP, he chickened out. Preferring to snipe from the sidelines.

The committee also concuded he misled the Committee itself.

That Johnson is a liar should surprise no one.

That it took so long for the checks and balances of the political system to catch up and pass judgement is problematic. Because currently a Member of the Commons gets into more trouble for accusing another Memeber of lying than the Member who lied. And until that is corrected, and there is no real consequence for repeated mistruths at the dispatch box, Johnson and Sunak will contine to lie and mislead.

Biggest issue is that the Conservative Party knew what Johnson was like, and elected him leader anyway, and cheered on his lies from the Government benches. Until they, and in the US the GOP, decides to return to the truch and fact-based polices, then there is every chance this will keep happening.

On Fleet Street, the Mail and Express predicatably, come out batting for Johnson, repeating his (further) lies and accusations at the committee, while the Torygraph publishes un-named threats that those who vote to censure Johnson will face deselection before the next election.

But these are empty threats.

The Johnson camp is now pretty small in the Commons, but that matters not as Johnson has a new gig, writing for the Daily (Hate) Mail. A job for which he failed to get permission from the standards watchdog for.

Johnson is naked and in disgrace, his only weapon now is more accusations of a stitch up, and the Remainer Blob trying to undo Brexit. Its like watching a 59 year old toddler reaching into his nappy and smearing the contents all over his face, and happy to do so.

Thursday 15th June 2023

Late on Wednesday, when the ship came into range of the internet, I got news that a great fried of mine, Rob, had passed away.

I hadn't even known he was ill.

So, on our last day in Svalbard, I went to the the most northerly church in the world, and lit a candle for him.

Rob burned bright, the world is dimmer without him.

--------------------------------------------------



And so for the last day.

We had packed the night before, and it all fitted into two cases, including the small rucksack, so one less bag to carry.

The early morning call was early, half six, with breakfast at seven. We dressed and went down to eat and say our farewells to the crew who had looked after us so well.

And then it was time to put on the life jackets for the last time and carry our hand luggage to wait to get on the inflatables to take us to shore, our cases were loaded onto pallets and taken the same way, all my hand.

Down the steps to the landing stage, and with a helping hand, onto the boat and sat down on the edge, hanging on as the bat weaved through the six other cruise ships, all smaller than you see in the Med and elsewhere, to the small jetty.

And that was it.

Last farewells to our guides, and news that a bus would take us to town, then pick us up at one where our luggage would be waiting, that was it.

All over.

We climbed on the bus when it came, the driver asking in that wonderful Svalbard infused English if passengers wanted to be dropped off at hotels or just the main car park.

Car/skidoo park.

We went to the main car park, just to check on timings, then set about walking up the hill to the church. The easy way there had been taken away wen the road bridge looked as though it had been washed away, so we found a footpath following some pipelines, over the river that tumbles through the town, splitting it in half, and then scramble up the hill the other side, past the old aerial ropeway, then up the narrow road to the church.

Inside it was all wood, so visitors have to remove their shoes, which we did, then went up the wide stairs into the nave, the painted altar looking through the chancel arch.

I took some shots, lit a candle for Rob, and after a sit down, we walked back via another path into town.

Where we met Kieran.

Kieran was stressed. Stressed about meeting those from the cruise and the flight out, as that is the only way he could get home.

He was medicating with beer.

We joined him and got him to talk, Jools asked him about his family and things did begin to calm down. When it opened, we went to the restaurant next door, Jools and I had a burger and fries, Kieran had two more beers, but was OK.

We shared a taxi to the airport, so to beat the rush when the bus deposited the other passengers from the six ships. Only problem was, our cases were not there.

So, we waited.

The van arrived and I helped unload until our cases were unloaded, Jools had checked us in, got baggage labels, so all we had to do was drop them in, go through security, and we were done.

Kieran came though, had another beer, but was calm, but then met others from the boat, including the tour leader, Ali, who told him the truth when Kieran asked what had happened.

Ouch.

As Ali said, you did ask.

We boarded, Kieran got on, we hung back as, why rush? And there was room still for my camera bag in the overhead locker.

Engines started and we taxied to the end of the runway, one last look at the desolate windswept hillside, and the engines roared and we rushed along, taking to the air, giving me one last look along the rugged coastline which rose quickly to mountains, before we passed through clouds and Svalbard was lost to sight.

Not much to say about the flight, really. Again we had to land at Tromso, where we and all our baggage had to get off the plane, and check-in and hand baggage rescanned, passports stamped, and we get back on the same plane. In the same seats.

We had to queue for each thing, the longest being immigration, thanks to Brexit, where one guy was checking all non-EU passports. Our bags were waiting, we had to put our bags on one belt for scanning, then queue to put our hand luggage through a different scanner.

Last call for our flight was announced, and we got through, out onto the pan and back onto the plane, the doors closed and that was that. All rather pointless.

Apparently, Svalbard is a separate state or something, so separate passport checks are needed on entering and leaving.

Hmmmmm.

We flew south for 90 minutes, passing over endless snow-capped mountains and glaciers. Last time I made this flight, the lakes and rivers were still frozen, they were flowing yesterday.

It was 3 degrees in Svalbard, then in Tromso, and a balmy 25 in Oslo. The farmland around the city was green and lush, the increase in temperature was a shock.

Once off the plane, we had 55 minutes to get to the other side of terminal, get through more immigration and find the gate.

And we were hot and getting hotter.

We passed lots of lovely looking bars and restaurants, but no time to stop, we seemed to go round in a huge circle, but came to the "F" gates, a short queue for immigration, and two minutes further on was the gate, where there was still a huge queue to get on.

Phew.

We waited to get on, but this time had been upgraded to Business, which meant we got an inflight meal for the 110 minute flight.

Dinner was smoked salmon salad, but it was good; well seasoned. And there was fancy chocolates for dessert too.

We landed in London just after nine, maybe we could be on the road by ten?

As usual, there was the long hike along endless corridors to immigration, but that was quick, but then to wait for our bags, not knowing if they had made the 55 minute transfer at Oslo.

They did arrive, so we rang the parking people and they would bring our car to the car park next to the terminal.

We had to wait 20 minutes, but the car came, we put our bags into it, thanked the guy and were off.

Thinking we were on the last leg home.

Highways England had other ideas.

First of all the onramp to the eastbound M25 was closed, we had to go north.

Then the M25 was going to be closed at the next junction, but we were travelling quicker than the guys putting out the bollards closing the road, so got through that.

Two more sets of roadworks saw the four lanes narrow to one each time, with jams at each, but then the section from the M11 to A12 was closed, so we saw what the sat nav would suggest.

Down the M11 to the North Circular, along to the A13 then out to Darford.

But there were roadworks still on the A13: what now?

The Blackwall Tunnel, it seemed.

We drove through east London to Greenwich, then under the river, good thing at this tunnel is that it joins up with the A2 as it snakes though SE London, so was fairly easy to follow.

With just about all routes onto the M25 either closed or jammed, we cruised under it into Kent.

With just one more set of roadworks, we thought we were home free.

But.

At Whitfield the A2 was closed, and even to road down the Pineham was closed too.

We called in at McD's for supper, then drove into town, past the castle and onto Deal Road to home.

It was ten past two.

We ate supper, but did nothing else, then took our tired asses upstairs to bed. I got to lay down at ten to three.

Wednesday 14th June 2023

Last full day on board the ship, and with the weather blowing in, we were not sure what we would do, if anything, other than sit and be buffeted by the strong winds. However, we were going to a fjord, and that could, should offer us some protection against the weather, and maybe allow us to go out in the boats.

As usual, we slept long and well, and again woken by the announcement at quarter to eight, telling us breakfast would be at eight.

We get up and have a late breakfast, and we are then informed that there will be a trip out, just no landing, so meet at quarter to ten.

We decided to go.

Wrap up warm, we were told. So we did.

Again we were in a long fjord, deep in it, and the steep sides protected us from the worse of the winds. We went to look at a colony of Eiders in front of a wide glacier, I got the best shot I could of them the other day, so wasn’t too bothered.

But the wind began to pick up, snow flurries turned into longer periods of snow, and it was getting very chilly indeed.

A bearded seal was spotted, so went over to photograph that, and then the call went up to make our way back to the ship back over the other side of the bay.

And just was we were about to reach the warmth of the ship, the kayakers sent a radio message out that they had seen two bears back over the other side. So, all nine boats turned round, into the teeth of the strong and cold wind, waves and sea water splashing over us all.

We hung on for dear life.

Once we got back to the north side of the bay, the bears were lost from sight. But from the back I watched and snapped as an Arctic Skua tried to catch a Kittiwake. The gull dived to the sea and crouched down, so the Skua couldn’t get a grip.

The Kittiwake survived.

So, we crossed back to the ship, the wind now so strong we could only disembark one boat at a time, but thankfully, we were second, so back up the steps from the landing into the warmth of the ship.

We had a fine lunch, and then were told that there would be one final trip out, with a landing under another cliffs, so the plantlife would be well-fertilised. I can’t lie, I was tempted, but with shore being so close, I was able to see the beach and the steep climb from it, with patches of snow laying deep and crisp and even.

It will come as no surprise, dear readers, to learn that I stayed on board for the afternoon. As did Jools. As did half the passengers.

I don’t regret it. At all.

I think a degree of fatigue had hit us all. Or most of us, there was also the three of an arctic dip, which involved dipping in the sea quickly, but enough to get your hair wet.

I wasn’t up for that.

Those that did came back ruddy faced and laughing, I quality tested the coffee all afternoon, and was even brave enough to try the tea, which was good as they had a machine that delivered near-boiling water.

And that was it for the tour. A look at the map revealed us to be a short cruise the other side of the fjord from Longyearbyen. We would cruise over there in the evening, as we ate the final dinner, meaning great phone and internet connection for everyone, even from our cabin!

We packed, then went up for dinner, which for the only time was menued rather than in a buffet. Main course was rib steak, which was pretty darn good, and as a dessert there was baked Alaska.

We sat in the lounge for a while, the ship was anchored a hundred or so yards from the town, the adventure was all over. What a blast it had been.

Tuesday 13th June 2023

From the 16th century, people lived up here, whaling for the oil which lit Europe for centuries. Those hardy men lived a hard life, partly in darkness, and many died from scurvy, and their bones never left the islands. On Tuesday’s trip, those gong ashore will see 169 graves of those poor souls who never left, so that people could read and write at night.

I have not gone. Out there on the land, on the slopes of the cliffs, snow still lays deep and crisp and even, so thick that those going on the long hike have to wear snow shoes. My back told me in no uncertain terms last night that I should stay on board this morning. Sitting on the bench seats was uncomfortable for me, as was getting to sleep. On that first trip ashore, it was when my foot fell through the crisp crust of the snow and my body went down until I hit firm ground or ice, so I chickened out. In fact nearly a dozen other passengers are on board with me now, but Jools has gone ashore.

We both struggled to wake up this morning, both of us went back to sleep after the phone woke us up at half six, and again when the crew made the usual morning sitrep call at seven. It was only when breakfast was called at half past, did we stir, as Jools just had over an hour before she was to board the zodiac to go to the shore.

Last night I used my 100MB internet voucher to check on the news: Sunak and Johnson are having an argument, Trump still indited with 37 charges, and Citeh did win the treble, but the European Cup Final by just a single goal. I went onto Flickr and that loading, apparently, took me through the 100MB limit, and that was that, no more interwebs.

But we will be back near to the airport tomorrow evening, so my phone will work and I can catch up, and on Thursday, we fly home, from Svalbard to Oslo in the morning, and Oslo to London in the evening, then drive back home, maybe home before midnight.

When it will be dark.

Dark. Fancy that.

I stayed on board with a few others, updated the blog and looked at my pictures again, so am now up today. On top of which, two more coffees drunk, and 5 (five) digestives dunked.

Meanwhile, outside, it snowed some more, as temperatures hovered around freezing, and as the snow fell, the outside world fades to greys as the sides of the fjord faded. I read the newspapers online and they are giving out advice on how to sleep in hot weather, it might come as a shock to us if its that warm…….

Jools came back at half eleven, and confirmed that conditions for the “easy” walk were far from that. Snow lay so deep, she got stuck, lost her boot in a drift, and then had to wear snow shoes, which had to be taken off when the path came to rocks, then then put back on for the return walk. It was cold, snowed, and for the most part, not enjoyable.

So, my choice not to go was correct.

There was another trip ashore in the afternoon to see a little auk colony. I again decided not to go, Jools also stayed aboard, as did a few more less hardy souls. And for half that did, they got the boat to take them back instead of the cruise along the cliffs, deciding to come back to ship for coffee and afternoon cake.

I read and read, and by half six finished Miriam Margolyes’s autobiography, it was full of Dickens and smut. In about the right balance.

So, at half six, the penultimate days debrief and the plan for tomorrow, which is at the mercy of a major storm sweeping down from the north, which could mean no off-ship activities at all.

Dinner included rabbit and boiled place. Thank goodness for the salad and sweet bar.

Monday 12th June 2023

I was awake at five, and could not get back to sleep, so got up to go to the lounge to have a coffee and found several packs of digestive biscuits out to dunk.

Outside, we were bobbing around ready to go back into the pack ice, but a change of plan meant we went down a fjord were there was the strong possibility of bears.

It is very hard to judge distance up here, what seemed like a mile must have been several more, and at the far end were four other ships, looking like toys as they were dwarfed by the mountains and glaciers around the bay.

We edged through the ice filling the bay, followed by a flock of Kittiwakes, who were waiting for the flows to be pushed aside and codling be left in the open, then they would swoop.

It took nearly two hours to make our way to the end of the bay, and in the lea of a large rock boulder, a mother Polar Bear was looking after her cub. And despite weighing three quarters of a ton, they two bears were never more than a few pixels in the viewfinder.

We drifted for an hour, maybe more, just watching the bears, a pod of Beluga Whales came by, all round the edge of the pack ice, surfacing with a short pout of water, they went back and forth for an hour too, never for than an inch or so out of the water, but that didn’t stop me taking dozens, possibly hundreds of shots.

Just before lunch, news came that we would be going out in the zodiacs for the afternoon, wrap up warm, we were warned.

After lunch we barded all the zodiacs, and we slowly made our way in large “s” bends nearer and nearer the cliff edge, where at the bottom as polar bear was sleeping off its lunch of walrus carcass. We tried to be quiet, but occasionally it looked up to see what was disturbing his post-lunch slumber.

We didn’t get too close, so he wasn’t spooked, and after each time looking up at us, he would stretch back down in the cool snow, yawn and go to sleep again. I guess we were 100m from him, and was amazing to see something that big and rare, so lucky we were.

After that, we cruised along the edge of bay, passed 5 glaciers what were silently flowing to the fjord. All around were birds, the same Kittiwakes, arctic turns, eiders, but best of all, the weather had calmed down so there was no wind, and we were treated to perfect reflections in the water as the sun came out.

One last visit to the bear and we made our way back to the ship, to be all back on board ready for dinner. Only two more bears were spotted about, about a mile off the port side, mating. Just as well they appeared as dots in my viewfinder. To add to the excitement, another pod of belugas appeared and then an arctic fox was seen in front of the ship, on the ice. And finally, a juvenile bear was spotted, running over the ice, jumping, hoping to find the breathing hole of a seal.

Phew.

After dinner, we sat in the lounge, looking at the sun high over the ice flows, a quarter to ten and still broad daylight, and would be all “night”, of course.

We sat in the lounge, me sipping a wee dram of Shackleton Whisky, named after the famed polar explorer, it seemed fitting. IN front of us, through the large windows was the bay and out to see, al full of pack ice, glinting in the late evening sunshine. It seemed other-worldly, but yet, here we are, and we had been out in the boats in it too, so it was of this world, but so out of our experiences, like something out of a David Attenborough documentary.

In front of the boat, an artic fox had been spotted, and behind another pod of beluga, while we watched a ring seal diving from one area of ice-free water to another. This must be an every day scene up here, but for us, it was magical.

So magical, that when the juvenile polar bear was spotted earlier, rather than run for my camera, I chose to stay and watch it through my eyes alone. It was distant, and others too shots aplenty, but it was this bear, running, jumping, swimming, all on the lookout for a late snack before the artic summer really kicks in. Because for the bear, summer is the lean times, when they overheat easily, and their usual hunting grounds on the ice have melted. So they sleep. For months.

You might have noticed that Kieran, who featured heavily in the first two days posts, has not been mentioned since Saturday. There is much I could say, and much that I can’t. Kieran was medevacked off a beach near to where we had moored on Saturday, to be taken to the main hospital for assessment. We all felt sad, as for Kieran seeing a polar bear was is only wish, and he would not see one now, just two days short, probably. So, if Kieran is reading this, you were missed mate, and we all thought of you when we saw that first bear.

IN the end, we saw at least seven polar bears on Monday, I said to Jools it would have made a fine climax to the trip, so to have on the last day, as the bears is what most of us wanted to see on the trip. But there is so much more, I guess what I will remember is the grand landscapes, the towering cliffs of granite, carved by ice and time, now home to tens of thousands of kittiwakes. And on days when there was no wind, the ice covered cliffs reflected in the icy waters, which were lined with ice flows. Birds wheel around, Fulmars follow the ship in hope of a free meal, and Kittiwakes swarm round the disturbed ice in the hope of grabbing a codling or two.

Sunday 11th June 2023

We woke up at seven, after some ten hours sleep, which we must have needed. Outside it was blowing twenty knots, and as we headed east, the edge of the pack ice was on the port side. Overnight we has crossed the 80th parallel, and were now in the top ten degrees of the globe.

Breakfast was called at eight, so as we dined on smoked sausages and porridge, the ship turned north into the ice.

Ice as far as the horizon, broken into smaller flows, the swell at the edge making them knock into each other and break up further. A few hundred yards in, and the swell had died, though the wind hadn’t, and the ship moved forward at walking pace, pushing the ice to either side as me moved further north.

But the ice was denser and thicker than expected, and progress was slow, too slow if we were to reach the location where a bear was seen last week, so the decision was made to leave the pack ice and follow the edge of it northeast. So, at then in the morning we cleared the last of the ice, waves breaking over the flows at the edge, and we sailed back into open waters, engines driving us forward more quickly.

An hour later we entered the pack ice again, but the strong southerly made the pack ice more tightly packed, and our forward progress slowed to a crawl once again before stopping. The ship sat still in the ocean of pack ice, with just the dark like on the horizon showing where the open water was.

We scoured the ice for signs of a bear, or any movement at all. A few fulmars have followed us, and they swoop and wheel around, maybe thinking we’re a fishing boat and might soon throw buckets of chum out. But we don’t.

Meanwhile, some passengers prowl the decks outside with either binoculars or cameras glued to their eyes, scanning the ice for the tell-tale mayonnaise yellow that would indicate a bear, while others sit in the lounge, looking out of the large windows at the same scene, and the rest either read or play games as the time ticks away towards lunch.

We entered the pack ice again, hoping to get far enough in so the ice would be thick enough for bears to be able to walk on it, but again we stopped making forward progress. The ice is so powerful, at times it feels when it pushes from the side it might tip the ship over, instead we linger for a time at ten degrees either to port or starboard, before the ship rights itself.

Between the pack ice, the sea water can appear to be white and thick like glue as it freezes, but in other places is dark blue. But the strong southerly pushes the ice together and we made slow progress back to open water. Sometimes we don’t move forward in half an hour, drift back then use the momentum to press forward a hundred yards or so.

Over and over again the process is repeated, until suddenly the ice changes, it more like rocks floating on the surface, were rubbing against each other means we can get a good speed up, and the bridge announces we will be in clear water by half three. And so we were.

We will head north again before settling somewhere for the night, where we are going to have an “arctic meal” out on deck before we turn in. All the time looking for bears.

The arctic meal was served out under the awning on deck three, steak, ribs, sausages and chicken cooked in the kitchen, but served in the open air. Music played and people sat at picnic tables to eat, trying to finish before the food went stone cold. We braved it for ten minutes, but we went back inside for more free wine and chatting to people.

Despite not doing much all day, we were tired, and were in bed at quarter past nine again.

Saturday 10th June 2023

Up with a fairly thick head and a furry tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, it was the traditional cure-all of bacon butties that helped. That and the six coffees I sent down to keep the butties company.

For the morning we had cruised through the night to another sound/fjord, anchoring near to the wall of a glacier. All around were small mini-icebergs and other shards of ice, making this feel really like the high arctic for the first time.

All zodiacs were launched, so we could all partake in a cruise through the ice flows and along the edge of the glacier. Jools and I got in the first one, so we also got to experience the day with perfect reflections which made it very special indeed.

Most ice was white or clear, but recently calved ice was deep blue, and these offering the only contrast to the monocolours of snow, ice and rocks.

We powered to the edge of the area of thicker ice flows, then weaved our way through and along the front of the glacier, never getting within 500m of it. Sometimes all boats would cut their engines, passengers wouldn’t talk, so we could hear the sound of the arctic: the gentle bobbing of the ice caused by small calvings from the glacier, and the sound of cracking, with just about every piece of ice adding to the chorus. It wasn’t loud, jut there. Common Eider males called and Artic Skuas cruised looking for the first eggs of the season.

There had been no wind, so there were perfect reflections for the bergs and other lumps of ice in the icy sea. We weaved in and out, a line of ten boats, chugging along, all mesmerised by the sights of the bay and the seven mile long ice wall of the glacier.

At one point, it did calf, but only a small piece, and there was only a small wave. But ten minutes later, the swell from that reached us, causing the reflections to be stretched and compressed like a fairground hall of mirrors.

After two hours we made our way back the ship. We were all getting pretty cold by then, and needed coffee followed by lunch. After taking off our life vests and boots, we went up to the lounge for some welcome coffee and to warm up.

We cruised to our next anchorage, 14th July Bay, where there would be two activities: 1, a cruise along the cliffs looking for nesting birds, then a walk under the shadow of the huge cliffs, on which tens of thousands of birds nest, their guano fertilising the lower slopes, to make a “hanging garden”.

Today was the first time my back really ached, and so painful I almost skipped the trip out. But we have two days on board now, so I thought I would brave it out.

Back in the zodiacs, and out to the island, where the cliffs towered at something like a thousand feet, people already on the shore looked like ants in its shadow. Our boat cruised along the shore, where first of all we saw an Artic Fox, in its summer pelt, except for its tail, which was still white. High above a huge colony of Kittiwakes squawked and flew around, having seen the fox further down the cliffs.

Along further we saw more Kittiwake nests, though much closer, and a few Puffins looking out of crevices in the rock where they nest. Not nesting in burrows is, I think, unique to the Svalbard population.

After an hour we landed on the beach, I swapped lenses, and we began a slow amble along the beach looking for flora which might be in flower. Not much more than we saw before, but two Snow Buntings were gathering fur from a reindeer to line their nest.

At half five we got back in the boats and they brought us back to ship, not as clod as this morning, but my back was glad to being rested for a few days.

A quick coffee, and then the daily debrief before another three course meal and coffee.

After the red wine and whisky excess of the night before, we went to the cabin straight after dinner, and soon went to bed.

Friday 9th June 2023

We woke up at about six, outside it was light, as it had been all night. We were nearly at 77 degrees north, high above the Arctic Circle. We could hear the ship waking up, though our neighbours had a “do not disturb” sign on their door.

Breakfast was called for half seven, we went down and found a table to have the usual: fruit, yogurt, followed by sausages and hash browns and lots and lots of coffee.

Plan for the morning was a landing by the inflatables, and a wander about to get used to walking in the artic. Climbing in and out of the zodiacs brings a little bit of concern, but there is crew around to help, and its fairly easy if inelegant.

Jools and I were on the last boat, we clambered in via the gangway and the helping hand of the crew in the boat. We took our place in sitting round the edge of the boat, the engine road and we turned for the shore. Getting out was a very inelegant roll, with another member of staff making sure you didn’t roll backwards, feet in the shallow water, grab your bag and over to the beach.

There were four groups: one for the sports billies, two medium and an easy pace one. We chose the latter so to assess our level. We walked out to a hunter’s cottage from about the war, it is preserved, and so is slowly falling apart, not helped by a polar bear a few years back, who thought it looked fine to sleep in, so tried to break into.

The ground was a mix of gravel and snow, the snow just beginning to melt, but also giving no indication of how deep it might be. Each step might make no indentation at all, but the next could see you sink in drifts up to your knee. I fell over twice, but in the snow, failing to bring a walking pole proved not to be our last mistake, but there you have it.

After 90 minutes, I had given up with the snow, so waited with some ladies for the rest of the group to look at the front edge of a glacier then return. Each group had two armed guides, who at the last resort would resort to lethal force, but mostly it would be about scaring a bear if we saw one.

We didn’t. The hope is to see a bear, but wither from the ship or zodiac. In the event of seeing on when we were on land, it would require us to evacuate.

No need for that, but after walking back along the beach, back to the boats, we waiting in line, to climb back in and be taken back to the ship, where it was nearly time for lunch.

Whilst we had lunch, the anchor was raised and we steamed to the next location, some two hour’s steaming away, an east facing beach of an island where a group of male walruses like to sleep and do what male walruses do.

Until we arrived, I updated this here blog, and read some of the book I bought back in London. Guests were slit into two groups: Germans, and then the rest, and after drawing lots the Germans went first, climbing into the zodiacs and then zooming to shore. From the boat we could see them, brightly coloured dots on the beach, walking towards slightly larger brown blobs, which were the walruses.

And hour later and it was our turn, no fears this time as we climbed into the boat, slid along the side, hung on as the skipper opened the throttle and we powered to shore. As we arrived, the Germans got in the boats, so soon there was just our half of the party left on the sand.

On a signal, we walked in line approaching the sleeping pile of blubber and ivory tusks until we were about 30m away. We stopped and took pictures and watched, as small arguments broke out, but mostly the males slept, scratched and grunted.

Two huge groups of walruses, all brown fur and skin, tusks and whiskers, mixed in with attitude, as the largest males pushed their way through the slumbering smaller males, because they could.

Two or three others watched from the shallows, one of them keeping two or three youngsters from even getting onto the beach.

Its what males do.

An hour quickly passed, and it was time to go back to the ship, we took it in turns to swing our legs into the zodiac, slide along until there was ten of us in, and then reverse out and power back to the ship. Even the weather was fantastic, clouds had cleared and we had bright sunshine.

With bottles of wine at only €20 a bottle, we had a Chardonnay with dinner before going up to the lounge to have coffee. There was some excitement as three Blue Whales were seen, within a few hundred metres of the ship, although you could really only see the blowholes, the Humpbacks with them showed better when they dived, waving their flukes in the air.

Kieran did buy some wine for the evening, and was very kind in sharing half with me. One bottle, two bottles, three bottles…….. It was midnight before we gave in, though it was still daylight outside, of course, looking it was mid-morning rather than midnight.

Thursday 8th June 2023

The first polar bear I saw, the only live polar bear I saw, was in 1967 when my parents took me to London Zoo to see the cub that had been born, Pipaluk. I have few if any memories of that trip, but the name I did remember. Sadly, for Pipaluk, he died just 22 years later in a zoo in Germany.

Pink polar bears were a drink consumed with great enthusiasm by us on 17 squadron in Germany. The drinking of these in the evening usually meant amnesia in the morning. These once did lead me to the only trouble I had in my 15 years’ service, but that’s for another time.

And then, in 2008, I had to join a ship in Hammerfest, and in the information centre there was a stuffed polar bear. I didn’t see one on my two voyages out of that port, which lies less than 72 degrees north, so far north that in the eight weeks that I was there, the amount of daylight between the beginning of February and the end of March meant we had eight hours more daylight by the time I left.

So, being so much further north now means 24 hours daylight, and trouble getting to sleep, I guess.

We are in Svalbard because our trip to Norway in January to see the Northern Lights was cancelled, and we were offered this with a 50% discount so we would not ask for our money back. We took the chance, but did find how far away Svalbard is, and how expensive flights from Oslo to here are. That being said, we could afford it, and here we are.

And back to the blog.

We woke at half six, having had eight hours sleep, or should have, but thanks to the made design of the bed in the room, it did manage to tip me out onto the floor early into the night, though I was unharmed.

“Man injured by bed”

We got dressed and packed, went down for breakfast, which had the usual mix of fruit, cold cuts, bread, cooked foods, pickles and so on. And coffee.

Once we had been fed and watered, we checked out, walked to the terminal and up to the departure hall, where we were taught how to print our boarding passes, then use them to check in our bags. Our tickets allowed us to use the fast track through security and also had access to the lounge, where we could have had a second and maybe third breakfast.

There we met Kieran again, who we had spoken to briefly at immigration the day before. He was also on the tour with us, and being a West Ham fan, was happy with the Happy Hammers winning the EUFA Conference final. He watched it in another Irish bar in Oslo, we slept through it, however.

Once it was nine, we walked to the gate where the flight was boarding, but the usual crowd of people were trying to all get on the flight at the same time, most with multiple cases and bags, so they could claim overhead locker space, I guess.

We hung back, but once on we had a row to ourselves again, and room in the locker for my cameras. So all good news.

The plane was ready for the first leg to Tromso, where many years back I caught that flight to Hammerfest, but this time it would be daylight when I arrived and possibly even sunny. SAS sold three classes of tickets, but we all got the same deal: hot drink, cold drink, small roll and a snack. Even Kieran, who had a business class ticket, had to pay for a second (and third beer).

Norway was hidden under a blanket of cloud for the most part, until we approached Tromso, dropped under the cloud and were presented with the expected snowy vistas of fjords and mountains.

Tromso is in a stunning location, in the lea of mountains and strung out along the edge of the fjord, but we wouldn’t have time to visit, because once landed we had to go to immigration to have our passports stamped once again, then get back on board the plane. Which was full to bursting this time. As there were at least four ships waiting for passengers, as we would find out later.

Again, the view was of clouds, and I had my head buried in a book, Jools nudged me and said to look out the window, as the snowy expanse of Svalbard was below. Proper artic snow and landscaped, made and carved by the harsh weather up here. Drifts of snow, hundreds of feet high, formed between peaks of adjoining mountains, and the same over and over again to the horizon.

But it was sunny.

Gloriously sunny.

The plane dropped down, the pilot weaving the plane between mountains and down valleys until we saw Longyearbyen, in about the only snow-free area.

We landed, waited to get off, then gathered in the tiny terminal for our bags, after which we could meet the representative to find where to take the cases and then board the bus for town.

It was very much like Mount Pleasant in the Falklands, a busy, hard working town, with steel buildings like warehouses, bright painted houses and condos: sturdy but functional. It reminded me of Mount Pleasant in the Falklands, all very much a working town, or place, if not a pretty or military one.

We were given an hour and a quarter, so I went to find the church. Which I did find, or see, but the bridge to it had been washed away and the detour would have been too long. So, I made do with a distant shot and then we went to find Kieran in one of the two bars in town.

He had demolished half a huge plate of burger and fries and was halfway down a pint of Weiss bier, which he insisted I join him with. And who am I to refuse such a command?

We whiled away half an hour or so, making two pints disappear, but by then it was time to go to pick up the buss for the short run to the quay, where we were to board the zodiacs to take us out to the ship.

Yes, you read that right.

So, in groups of ten, we clamber and stumble aboard the rubber boat, then hang on for dear life as they whisk us over the sound to the waiting ship, where we climb up to the landing platform, and then up the steps to deck.

We were shown to our cabin, where our cases were waiting, time to unpack before the opening briefing, where we were told there would be an emergency drill. So, a few minutes later, the siren sounded and we met in the lounge, then made our way to the aft deck and be shown the escape craft. Even with a jumper on, it were chilly on deck, so glad when we were allowed back down.

We sailed, and as we left the fjord, the phone signal got weaker and weaker until it faded away, which is how it will be for the next six days or so. Anything might happen and we wouldn’t know.

At quarter to eight, we went down for our buffet dinner. Vegetables, salad and other nice freshly cooked stuff. We sat next to a nice Turkish couple and we had a pleasant meal talking about travel and trips we had taken, also the political issues our respective countries are going through.

As we ate and relaxed, the ship cruised to St Johnsfjord, where after arriving at half ten, we dropped anchor for the night. Meanwhile, in the bar, Kieran and myself drank whisky as we scanned the slopes of the fjord for signs of polar bears.

None seen yet.

Wednesday 7th June 2023

Dateline: Heathrow airport.

Or a modern hotel just down the road. The road being the A4.

It was at least light, once we had got up, got dressed and let the car parking people we were on our way.

A short drive to Terminal 3, and the guy wasn't there to collect the car, and they didn't return our calls.

We stood, then sat, waiting, and a guy rolled up twenty minutes later saying he didn't have our phone number.

We filled in a form, he too the key and drove off, while we wheeled the trolley and our luggage to the departure hall, where there was no wait at the BA desk, and in 5 minutes our cases were checked in, and another 5 minutes and we were through security.

Five past six.

And being so early, there places in the restaurants and other places to eat, so we went to the pub, ordered a hash and coffee.

And relaxed.

Food came, and was quite spicy for that time of the day.

That felt better.

We finished, and found the gate had been announced, a short two minute walk away, where we found the flight being boarded.

We had been given the wing exit seats, so had extra legroom, and three seats between the two of us, was like being in First Class!

The left on time, and took off into low heavy cloud, emerging into bright sunlight. I put the blind down and slept for an hour, so wake up when the pilot announced that we were just 20 minutes from Oslo.

All was going well until we were just about to touch down, and the pilot fired the engines and aborted the landing.

That alarmed everyone!

Why was the landing scrubbed?

The pilot cam on the tannoy: wind changed direction, we have to try again from the other direction. Nothing to worry about.

He said.

We went round again, came in from the other direction and he executed a perfect landing. There were cheers and applause.

Through immigration, collect the bags, and we found our hotel was a short walk away, we couldn't check in, but we could leave our bags.

So we did.

I grab a camera, and we walk back to the terminal, so we could catch the express into the centre of town.

Before we caught the train, we had a snack: a roll and coffee each: £27.

Eeeek indeed.

The tickets were thirty quid each, return, so already the costs racking up.

But the train was well designed, modern and had good air conditioning. And in 19 minutes we were at central station.

After wandering around, we go to tourist information and ask about a bus tour, were told to go outside the Opera House and pick up one there.

So we did.

Outside, it was 25 degrees, and sunny.

So war. Hot even.

Which is how I cam to be on a bus behind the rudest man in Europe.

This I know, as a guy from New Zealand came to sit next to me, and we chatted, but rude bloke turned turned round and told us to be quiet.

He got off at the next stop, with his mates, and the bus was a happier place.

The bus went round to the cruise terminal, then the driver told us he had to have half an hour's break, so we walked back into town, along a canal or inlet, can't decide what it was. But it was lined with modern housing, flats or condos.

Did I mention it was hot?

We had an ice cream.

Watched some people, then walked round the marina, heading towards the station a mile away, and then we were waylaid by an Irish bar.

It forced us in, poured Guinness and cider down our throats, then served us fine ribs and more Guinness.

A fine end to the afternoon.

I could have stayed there all evening, but we had to get back to the hotel, so walked back to the Opera and across the busy road to the station, where a train was due to leave in two minutes.

And here we are, back in the room, had a brew and now going for a shower. 18,000 steps done.

And shattered.

But on holiday.