2023: How was it for you?

Here we are, at the end of another year.

You did well to make it through. It seems that these last few months, each week a friend lost a family member. There seemed to be no end to it.

And then, earlier in the year, my body decided I should experience vertigo. For at least three months. Initially, it was like being hungover without the fun of drinking the previous night. Turning over in bed would bring out the feeling of falling for at least five seconds. At its worse, looking at the TV at the wrong angle could trigger it.

And then there was the looking up. Looking above at church ceilings or towers would trigger a bad attack. And it would take 30 seconds before I could attempt another shot. Rinse and repeat until I had the shots I wanted.

Thankfully, it came to an end in Valencia after snapping another church ceiling, Jools said she saw me stagger and nearly fall. And then nothing. Not later in the day, the next week, next month or since April.

I am glad about that.

Worst incident was when I went to visit the Giant Orchid site in Oxfordshire back in March, halfway down the bank I slipped. A combination of my inflexible boots, whose treads had filled with mud, the steep slope of the embankment and the vertigo.

Anyway, down I went, into a bramble batch, lost my glasses and was badly scratched. Getting back up was hard, took about 20 minutes, and only done with the lending by a kind fellow orchidist of a walking pole used as a strong point, and pulling myself up the slope, stopping only for a shot of the orchid, of course.

A friend found my glasses later and sent them to me, thus saving £200 for a pair of varifocals.

So it goes, so it goes.

The day had started out well, with a clear run along the M25 round to Heathrow, and then up the M4, arriving at the site with an hour to spare. All in good spirits walking along to the site, where, from the top we could see about half a dozen spikes, just not close enough, so a trip onto the slope was needed to get close shots.

And then came the fall, as I followed a line of folks, who I thought knew of a safer route down. I was the only one who fell. I won’t lie, it shook me up for some while, and felt that my body was failing me. And then that hot and humid day in Valencia, it melted away.

I walk with a pole most of the time now, when am off a pavement or paved road, even in my new boots, but I feel safer and more inclined to go out now. I also have a pair of crampons, which I will use in the spring on those chalky downs when we go hunting those spring orchid spikes.

That was one of three domestic orchid hunts outside Kent this year. The second was a three day trip to the north west and Yorkshire to find and photograph Coralroot, Lesser Twayblades and Small White Orchids, all life ticks for me, as well as going to see the largest colony of Lady’s Slippers over the border in Yorkshire.

The three lifers were all underwhelming orchids, though others may disagree, these are all small orchids, and the largest of the three, The Small White, wasn’t yet in flower, so just spikes seen. The Lesser Twayblade was tiny. Hiding among a clump of heather, we found just two tiny spikes, one was being pollenated, so that was something. The day had started off at a bog high in the hills, where three hours searching uncovered five tiny spikes of Coralroot, and then on the way out, I spot another, this one a monster some four inches high!

Finally, in July, a day trip took us to the New Forest to see the equally diminutive Bog Orchid. I knew it would be small and green, so wasn’t disappointed. We were guided by a friend, who took us straight to the site he had found, and the monster spike some three inches high, standing on a tussock of earth, some few inches above its surroundings, making it easier to photograph.

I did then lose my shoe, hop around a while, and had to stand in the bog while I rescued my shoe and battled to put it back on. That is why we were back on the road home before ten, and home at one.

In January, I had to attend an audit in Warrington, and on the way stopped in Northamptonshire to visit a most remarkable church: Fotheringhay, parish church to Richard III and other Yorkists. To be so close to significant history is remarkable. In addition, at the nearby Fotheringhay Castle, is where Mary, Queen of Scots was beheaded.

March saw us visit Ipswich to meet up with friends, Simon and Cam, for some beers and chat, which was very pleasant indeed, and something to do again, that’s for sure. Being a Norwich fan its easy to make comments about Ipswich, but it really is a fine place. Not as fine as Norwich, clearly.

At the beginning of April, Jools was involved in a minor car crash. She wasn’t injured, but the car suffered extensive damage at the front, which was only just economically viable to be repaired under insurance. For over a month, we had to make do with a Peugeot hatchback, that was awful, and this was from Audi’s own insurance who said that it was a like-for-like.

Hmmm.

Lesson learned for us, there, Audi.

That was just before our trip to Spain, where after a three day break in Valencia, we would meet up with a wildlife tour on a two centre butterfly hunting tour of central and northern Spain.

Valencia was marvelous, full of wonderful baroque churches and cathedrals, and the modernist Palace of Arts and Sciences. We ate and drank well there, including the best over Italian meal we have had on the last evening.

Over the next six days, the tour saw over 60 species of butterflies at various locations. And due to the cool mornings, hunting did not begin until after ten, allowing for a lazy slow morning and breakfast in our two hotels. The first, in Albarracín, had the most amazing views from the narrow balcony of our room, and in the town, a maze of narrow lanes and passageways through the ancient stone buildings, which, at night, were deserted.

In May, work took me to Ireland, where I had a night and day in Tipperary and a day and two nights in Dublin. There was work involved, so not all photography and Guinness. I had a fine guide in Patrick, who drove us to the town of Horse and Jocky, where we stayed at the Horse and Jocky Inn, in Horse and Jocky.

I kid ye not.

A rush then into June saw me going with my friend, Gary, to Norfolk to hunt for Swallowtail butterflies. Bad weather meant we saw none, in fact saw almost no wildlife at all.

So it goes.

Back home after the night in Acle and the tour, then dash south home to meet with Jools at home, before loading the car to drive to Heathrow for the start of another adventure, this time north. Almost as far north as most folks can go.

Next morning, we flew to Oslo, where we had a day. Half a day to look around, take a bus tour and spend three hours in an Irish bar where we had dinner. Next morning we caught a plane north to Tromso, where we had to get off, have our passports checked again despite staying inside Norway, then flying north west to Svalbard.

Where we joined our ship for a seven day cruise looking for polar bears and other animals found on the archipelago. We saw six bears, two arctic foxes, whales, reindeer, walrus and countless birds.

It was a real adventure, and the effects of it filtered through our brains for weeks and months afterwards.

So, a travel heavy first six months of the year, gave way to more relaxing second half of the year, with just a trip to Denmark and a three day work trip to France to break things up. Both were from work, and like most trips to Denmark, are, for me, as much about meeting friends as work, though don’t tell my manager who signs my expenses!

The Sunday afternoon meeting up with Steffan, Brian and Jesper was one of the best spent, with beer and good food, accompanying good friendship. Each time I go there now, I wonder if this is to be my last trip to Denmark, as my time working is now getting short. Worse case, I have less than 20 months now before retirement.

Our last morning on Svalbard saw our connection to the modern world, via the internet and phones, restored. And I found that a friend, Rob had died from Cancer. I did go to his funeral, and it affected me than I thought it would. Maybe it was because Rob was such a good friend, though on his terms, its that he was just 14 days older than I am. And there he was, gone.

September brought stupid high temperatures, making Heritage Weekend almost unbearable, but I did a dozen local churches, most revisits, but by four in the afternoon, I had had enough and went home via a pub.

At the end of September, a friend, Diane, came to visit from New York, and we met up in Canterbury for some photography at the Cathedral and other historical sites, as well as a pint of ale in a pub and fish and chips. We must do it again, Diane!

And that, pretty much is that. The year faded and thoughts go to travel plans for next year and retirement the year after that. It really is that close.

I didn’t go to the cinema at all again this year, nor saw any films on video or on PPV. I watched very little TV other than football, The Sky at Night and Gone Fishing.

However, we subscribed to several blogs, supporting them with a few pounds a month when little seems to have any value. I cancelled my subscription to Rail after the entire editorial team either retired or quit. Seemed to be the time to do it. I found some new podcasts to listen to as well, including subscribing to the Danny Baker one at last. And that is how I fritter away my spare time.

Since Marc Riley had his show merged with Gideon Coe, and moved to 22:00, I only listen occasionally, so for at least half the year have failed to keep up with new music, sadly. Another subscription taken out was the Parallel Universe which used to be part of Marc’s show.

So, a year in which we found out George had married Trinny out in Thailnad, and they came to live in the UK. Other than that, the family carries on, getting a year older if not wiser. That's true for me. We have our health, though we could both do with losing some weight, maybe we will, but we feel good and am enjoying life, finding fun and laughter in the mundane, as well as in the extraordinary.

From me, and Jools, to you: Happy New Year, and congratulations on surviving it.

Saturday 30th December 2023

A day for leftovers.

2023 is going out with a blow, rather than a bang, with a series of Atlantic storms sweeping in from the west, meaning there was little to do for most of the day.

One thing we had to do was go to Tesco, of course, and as Jools had had a bad night's sleep, I went on my own, getting there just before eight as we overslept again.

Tesco was very quiet, more people rearranging shelves rather than shopping, as the festive stock is sold off at knockdown prices. Main item on the shopping list was party food to take to Jen's on NYE when we will play cards and drink wine.

That done, back home where for breakfast, where, instead of bacon, I fry the leftover pigs in blankets and we munched on those with fresh brews.

Even better than bacon butties.

Not much else to do the rest of the day before the footy started at midday, which would kick off with the Auld Firm game.

While that played out, I prepared dinner, which was leftover beef, roast potatoes and gravy. Along with I made a large batter pudding.

And for a meal that took about half an hour of effort, it was quite marvellous.

I have to be honest, the wine meant I slept through most of the football in the afternoon, waking up in time for the Forest v Man Utd game, which lived up to expectations, and Forest running out 2-1 winners, meaning Utd have lost nearly half their games this season.

Friday 29th December 2023

I last walked the lanes beyond Collingwood and Fleet House on 8th Novemeber, because, since then we have had half a year's rain. Or so it seemed.

But now with my new boots, I can go for a stomp whenever I want, wherever I want.

It is also time for the #NewYearPlantHunt for @BSBI and #wildflowerhour, so I went armed with the mobile and big camera fitted with macro.

Going was indeed muddy, but not that bad, just along Green Lane where the passing of countless horses though the winter have churned the track into mud, which made going slow. So, halfway along, I cut back through the wood, where it was much drier and easy going.

Back down past the paddocks to Collingwood and then to home, as we were due at Jen's for some new year card action, fuelled by turkey and stuffing sandwiches.

Cards is always more about socialising rather than the cards itself. So, we talk, then have sandwiches jammed with turkey and stuffing, and follow up that with Christmas Pudding and Brandy Sauce, which was nice, but like all dairy now, lays heavy.

And then cards.

With Sylv being partially deaf and disorganised, made for slow going, and a game of meld took nearly two hours. After which we play Queenie, with everyone just about breaking even.

Since coming back from the Nine Below Zero concert, I had been wanting to go back to Ramsgate to see the Christmas lights on the boats and yachts in the harbour. Jen and Sylv were happy to come along, and after a little egging on, John came too.

After finding a place to part, we retired to a café built into the fishermen's arches for a coffee, and wait for sunset and dusk to fall.

I looked out of the window after draining my cup, and saw the magical blue hour had started, so told the rest I was going out and began snapping.

The lights attracted a large number of families, and the dry and warm conditions ensured more folks came out. But ut was just pleasant, walking and snapping.

A grotto had been set up in one of the smaller arches, though now Christmas is over, Santa has gone back to Lapland, of course.

After an hour, I had taken enough shots, and the panos with the mobile came out better than the shots with the big camera, the low light confusing the sensor and over-exposing many shots.

Sometimes, however, its just nice to be there and see it with your own eyes.

We walked back to the car and drove back to Dover, chasing the fast fading light in the west as we did so. We dropped Jen and Sylv back in Whitfield, and John back home at the bottom of Whitfield Hill, and back home to St Maggies for us, where there would be a feline welcoming committee waiting.

Back home at ten to six, just in time to log in for the quiz, just as well I did as I came 3rd, which lifted me to the overall 4th in the final monthly table with 16 points.

Yay, me.

Thursday 28th December 2023

Neverending Twixmas.

It was, apparently, Thursday.

What to do with the day?

Well, here's the thing. I hate shopping. My only pair of walking shoes are falling to pieces and offer no support, and I fell in love with a make of boots when we were on the cruise.

Muck boots were robust, comfortable, but are expensive. But, with Christmas over, the sales on and with our discount card, we went to shopping.

To the outdoor place at Wincheap. I guessed it might take and hour, maybe two go get what I wanted.

We parked, went in and a quick scour of the sales, I get a pair of half price shoes, and round the corner are the boots.

I try them both on, both pairs fit, and so we pay and are back outside within 15 minutes.

Easy.

The only thing left was the remaining 14 hours of the day to fill.

I am fascinated by winterbournes. That is chalk streams that only flow when the aquifers are full, and the best known one around east Kent is the Nailbourne, and with the Drellingore flowing already, the Nailbourne should be too.

So, we drive back to the A2, and from the bridge at Bridge I could see the silvery ribbon of the Nailbourne, so we turn off, go to Barham and just where we turn off to the church and back to the A2, we stop so I can take shots of the fast flowing bourne.

We went home via Jen's, just to say hello to her and Sylv, then back home for lunch of caprese, made with the smoked mozzarella we bought at Borough before Christmas. And there was the last of the stale focaccia to turn into garlic bread.

And that was the day.. Football filled the afternoon and evening, with Spurs and then Arsenal losing. I sipped Japanese whisky and laughed.

Wednesday 27th December 2023

It is Twixmas, or the period between Christmas and New Year when nothing really happens.

Who wants to do more shopping after Christmas, the fridge is full of chocolate and cold cuts and the same old films are on the TV.

With Storm Gerrit at its height, and the high tide at 11:00, we headed down St Margaret's Bay for the first time in ages to see if the rollers were rolling in.

Not that rough, the wind was in the south east, I think, but rough enough to make it a poor experience unlucky enough to be on the ferry.

A few other hardy souls down there, and the tea hut was open doing slow business, I guess. I take a few shots and we walk back to the car.

Next we would drive to St Martin's Battery to see how the waves looked battering the harbour arm.

A quick drive up the cliffs and through the village, along the Deal Road, past the Castle and into town, then up Military Road on Western Heights, brought us to St Martin Battery, now a look out.

Jools sat in the car while I walked along the muddy track to a clear view of the town and harbour, and taking shots of the waves breaking over Admiralty Pier, though not spectacular waves.

I linger for twenty minutes or so, hoping to see a train below, but none comes. So, I walk to the car, look at my watch and see it was twenty to twelve.

What to do?

Pub.

I check on the opening hours for The Berry, and that didn't open until four, but The Freed Man opened at midday.

Ker-ching.

We drove back into town, then along Townwall Street, up Jubilee Way and along to Walmer, parking outside the bar. It was two minutes past opening time, and the door was open.

We go in, I order a pint of mild for me, and half of cider for Jools. We took a seat and chatted to the landlord, Ian.

Jools and I play uckers, the game went to the last piece, and Jools won.

She drove us home, where I cook warmed up ragu and pasta, plus made some garlic bread out of the lest over focaccia.

And wine.

We clear up.

Get sleepy.

And snooze the afternoon through.

That left just a generous slice of Christmas cake a brew to see us through to bedtime, but there's always football to divert us. I mean me.

The year in orchids

For the first time in a decade, since I got the orchid bug, I did not feel so obsessed, and need to see every species in flower.

For the last few years I have bailed on the Green-flowered (disappointments) Helleborines in north Kent, but with two major trips away this spring and summer, several other species also went unseen by me: Greater Butterfly, Heath Spotted and Early Marsh I passed on, even when I did have tome to go, and Musk Orchids escaped my orchid eye for the first season. I believe there was just the single plant at PGD this year, a friend did see and photograph it.

Sadly, the three spikes of Serapias vomeracea all failed this year. Coming a year after they mysteriously died in 2022just before flowering, this is frustrating. And disappointing. A spike did form, but turned black and apparently rotted. If the rot went down to the rhizome​, then the plant or plants almost certainly have died. It was a very wet spring, and the site is overgrown too, meaning the plant, used to growing on the poor soils of the eastern Med, were just crowded out and could not survive the rain and damp conditions that 2023 brought.

Other than that, was a good season for most other species, with the best for Ophrys sphegodes at Samphire, with a late burst after the rain bringing out impressive numbers of spikes. How different it was on April 9th, when just two plants found flowering at the base of the cliffs, and one of those had been eaten by slugs. Along the metalled track, very few rosettes, let along spikes seen until into May, when numbers did explode.

Also on the 9th, the first flowering spike of Early Purple, seen at Earley Wood, was seen. Just a single flower on a single spike, but it counts.

The last two weeks of April took Jools and I to Spain so I could chase butterflies. I was to see two species there: the first, a weedy Early Purple in a woodland clearing in central Spain, but the second, the fabulous Dactylorhiza sambucina, seen in both its colour forms: red and yellow, in an Alpine meadow high in the Pyrenees.

So, back home for the beginning of May, to find that the season had exploded with the prolonged period of cold nights having come to an end. On the 5th, I snapped this Lady Orchid in which a female Crab Spider lay in wait: a true beauty and the beast.

It was another wonderful year for Fly Orchids, with spikes seen all over Yockletts Bank, among the huge number of Lady Orchids there too.

8th May saw me going to Marden for the annual display of Green-winged. The car park was closed all season due to flooding and mud caused by the wet Spring, so I went early morning and had all three paddocks to myself, and can report that the paddock nearest the car park has greatly increased numbers of spikes too.

On 20th May, Man Orchids at Lydden were starting to open, and due to great site management, numbers there are over double from when I first went a decade ago.

Up on the downs, the colonies of Ophrys sphegodes had reduced numbers, but always a joy to stumble on the spikes just off the path.

The Green Fly did return, three spikes in the end, though I just went the once to show an elderly gentleman and his wife the plant. He was an orchidist of several decades, and had never seen one before

Just as good news was the increased numbers of Neottia nidus-avis at the usual reliable site. But took until 21st May for the first spike to show.

Numbers of Cephalanthera damasonium also up on previous years, though I only saw this one spike in flower. But 2023 will best be remembered as the year of the Late Spider, with two new sites found for me, and several unusual spikes seen, incuding two yellow ones, mis-shapen flowers and odd-marked lip. All down to the hunt for the green flowered found by others, which we did fail to find, but the thrill, as ever, was in the hunt.

Orchis simia were seen in good numbers, though I did not have time to get to the Faversham site, PGD delivered large numbers, including this fine pair. Though the season was two weeks later than has been in recent years.

The unique Dover Bee, Ophrys apifera var. dubrisii, returned at the end of May, and going late in the day, I was alble to snap it in bright sunlight, best to show its colours off.

One last highlight was the return of the Kentish Burnt (Tip), Neotinea ustulata, seen on a grim, cold and wet morning. What was I doing, I told myself, walking again up and down the down looking for a plant that I knew wasn't there. And suddenly, there it was. Aching legs and being soaked were forgotten in the joy of the tiny brightly coloured spike. A second spike was found further up the down by others, so the tiny colony persists. For now.

Upon our return from Svalbard, the season was still going strong, but some spikes were already going to seed. A tip off took me to north Kent to see a colony of four Dactylorhiza fuchsii var. rhodochila, as well as several strongly marked spikes on top of that!

Another tip off sent me to mid-Kent to see a previously unreported site for Platanthera bifolia. We got to OK from a local gamekeeper to go on, and were rewarded with a spike some 68cm tall, not bad for a plant that shouldn't get over 30cm!

By then, news of the Green Late Spider had leaked out, so off we went searching. As I said before, I must have seen 300 spikes, some of shape, size, colour and patternation I have not seen before. It was quite the blast, hoping that the next plant we would find would be green. Not green, but the occasional yellow soike, if not flowers.

And another hybrid was found, but this one a possible backcrossed hybrid with a Bee, Ophrys x albertiana x apifera. A stunning little plant, though we'll never know for sure if it is. Our garden Pyramidals returned, two spikes where we had had them previously, but a third appeared about six feet away. And good news is that all three rosettes are already showing well for the 2024 season.

Numbers of Epipactis helleborine recovered further that their mid-Kent site, with spikes reappearing in the centre of the meadow around the mature trees, and dark ones further up the down right by the treeline.

At Sandwoch Bay, numbers of Epipactis palustris are also increasing, with the spikes spreading to other area of the fenced off slacks.

Final highlight was a triple spike of Epipactis purpurata var chlorantha, or Violet Helleborine lacking pigmentation. Found in a little known wood, news of these soon reached far and wide.

That leaves just the Autumn Lady's Tresses which showed well on the downs again, though in reduced numbers, probably due tot he wet spring and summer causing increased competition from other plats that had usually been brined to a crisp by then.