Thursday 10th August 2023

This time with sunshine.

In fact, the second day with light winds, clear blue skies and hour up on hour of warm sunshine.

Jools went swimming early, while I slept through the alarm, so that I only woke when she started the car engine and drove off at ten to six. I had been awake, but dozed off once free of the deadweight that is Cleo.

I make coffee and check the interwebs for good news, and so finding none I went to sit on the patio for half an hour as the sun rose away to my left.

Work was, well, work, and quiet enough so that I felt I could take half an hour off for a head clearing walk, doubly so as I felt the first stirrings of a migrane.

So, I went for a walk.

Its been several weeks, and mainly I had convinced myself it would be too muddy for a walk.

At the weekend, Jools walked to the cliffs and found the Dip overgrown but passable, meaning all tracks should be too.

And there was that rude woman and her demanding to know what I have been photographing. Well, turns out she and her husband have had whatever planning permission they had for the site, so was suspicious, but that does not excuse her rudeness.

The gate to their meadow was locked, so I was able to snap butterflies, moths and dragonflies as I walked.

First species was along the track at the end of our street, a few Holly Blues flitting about, one I was able to get a shot of.

Over the fields and past the meadow where the rude woman accosted me a few weeks back, the gate was locked so she wasn't there. Then down past Fleet House to the farm before the long climb to Windy Ridge.

I stopped at the hidden bench, in front of which the field of wheat had just been harvested, so the irregular cut stubble rose out of the muddy ground. I put on a podcast and chilled for twenty minutes.

From there, I walked to the start of Green Lane, and all along were butterflies and many Migrant Hawkers. I got pictures of most, starting with a Common Darter on a blade of grass, tricky to focus on.

There were so many Migrant Hawkers about, hawking, that a few were sure to settle so I could get shots. And once I had some general and close ups, I was happy and turned my attention back to butterflies.

The second of two fields were being ploughed, as the cycle begins again, preparing for the next crop. I turned down towards Collingwood, past the paddocks with horses swishing their tails to keep away clouds of flies, before finally getting back to our street and then back home.

I logged on, checked mails and messages, and decided I could go and make a glass of iced squash and warm another pot of the lentil soupl I made earlier in the week, using the final bag of Brexit-frozen vegetables and the remainder of the stock I made from the lag lamb roast.

And that was that.

Back to work, eating lunch and cooling down, mixed in with feeding the cats and clearing up the mess I had made since getting up.

It was too nice to do too much work, so I sat in the garden and listened to a podcast with a glass of ice cold beer in my hands, I wore earpods so disturbed no one else.

And for dinner I made spiced lamb with fresh corn and Morrocan spiced rice.

It were lovelerly.

And that was it for another day, I went to bed at half seven to listen to another podcast, thus reducing my onscreen time by something like 5%.

Every little helps.