Saturday 8th July 2023

Hey, hey, it's the weekend.

And unlike last week, the weather was going to be

hot

hot

hot

At least here in east Kent. Up in that Leeds it would rain most of the day and ruin most of the 3rd day of the third Ashes Test.

Needless to say, we went to Tesco for some hunting and gathering, filling the trolley with life's essentials and non-essentials.

Back home for breakfast, and then out for a walk before it got too hot.

But it already was too hot, fact fans.

Anyway, it had been a while, so we headed out over the fields to Fleet House, but on the way I was accosted by the rudest "lady" in Kent.

"Have you been taking photographs of my land" she demanded to know once she had climbed from her car.

Pardon.

"I've seen you here before, last Saturday, have you been taking photographs of my land?"

No. I take photographs of flowers and butterflies.

"I demand to see the last photograph you took, show me now!"

No, I'm not going to do that.

I told here in no uncertain terms she was making some serious accusations, and she needs to calm down, and when she sees me next I shall expect an apology.

Meanwhile, her husband was imploring her to get back in the car.

Which she did.

But put a bit of a dampener on things for a while.

I walked up to the bench, sat down a listened to a podcast until Jools caught up, then told her what happend.

You should have asked her what she thought was worth photographing on her land, said Jools.

Wisely.

From there I walked along Green Lane, but the sun had now been hidden behind clouds, and it looked like it might even rain.

But didn't.

Back home we had lunch, then lazed around until Jools went swimming with Sylv in the harbour. I stayed home and once motivated, cleared another area of thatch from the lawnmeadow. It's now about half clear.

At five, there was football: England v Spain in the U21 European Championship final, which England just about won, thanks to a very late penalty that Spain failed to convert.

Pork pie for supper, and a beer, and by Jove, it was time for bed, as we were to be up at the crack of sparrows on the morro.