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.