Tariffs

Back in 2016, I quickly learned, thanks to Brexit, that anyone who talked about trade solely in terms of tariffs, really didn't understand trade at all.

So far, so Brexit.

But Donald Judas Trump has been pbsessed with tariffs for decades, and so yesterday, he fulfilled his dream of imposing tariffs on the entire world, but not Russia.

After the announcement, some people cleaver than myself did calculations and showed that the barriers other countries had supposedly imposed on the US were totally wrong. So, how did Trump get his figures?

"The Trump administration calculated "tariff rates" by taking the US trade deficit with the respective country and dividing it by the country's exports to the US. And then the tariff rate of the US is often just set by cutting that made-up "tariff rate" in half."

"Furthermore, the Trump admin only used the trade deficit in goods. And if the US balance of trade with a country is roughly even (or trade deficit to imports is less than 10%), the tariff rate is listed as 10%."

And whchever database the administration took the list of countries from, it seems the US have acknowelgded Taiwan for the first time, and :

"He has introduced a 10% tariff on the British Indian Ocean Territory.

The only inhabited island there is Diego Garcia, home to US service personnel.

TRUMP HAS PUT A TARIFF ON A US MILITARY BASE!"

Trump also imposed 10% tariffs on Heard Island in the Antarctic, inhabited only by penguins, and therefore has no exports or imports with the US or anyone else.

To quote Bernstein:

"The truth is, these are not very bright guys, and things got out of hand.”

Tuesday 1st April 2025

Being retired means going orchiding when you feel like it.

Not just orchiding, of course. But going to the gym, doing the garden or whatever.

Although I knew it was unlikely to see any orchids in flower, a walk in the woods is never wasted.

So, after another lay in to half seven, then up for coffee and breakfast before we go out just before ten.

I drop Jools off in Lydden so she could visit a friend, and I could drive to the orchid fields of east Kent.

Onto the A2 then down through Bridge, and again through the woods and fruit farms to Hardres, down Stone Street before turning off.

Don the narrowest of narrow lanes, there is a small parking space, allowing room for a couple of cars, and access to one of the gates into the reserve of Yockletts.

I know the reserve well, the long slow climb in the open gallop to the lower meadow, where I pause to take in the scene and look for Green Hairstreaks, which have been reported elsewhere on the wing.

But not here. Last year's grass is faded green, and little sign of this year's.

Down then to the area round a fallen tree where the Fly Orchids grow thick. There was a good half dozen well developed spikes. None now or before the weekend will flower.

Up the slope to the top track so I could check on the two large Lady Orchid rosettes, well developed again, but with no spikes.

Everywhere is a carpet of amemonies, bluebells and primroses, its glorious. And although no butterflies were seen, the air is full of birdsong.

Over The Gogway, and pausing to snap the Townhall Clock plants, now struggling in open sunlight now the trees and scrub has been cut back, then up the slope to the upper meadow.

Numbers of orchids are well down. Only Early Purple were in the bluebell wood, Fly were only visible where numbers are hight, and Lady Orchids were restricted to a few places.

Yes, its early, but there should be more rosettes than these.

I stop at the upper meadow after the climb, usually butterflies sweep by frequently. But not today.

But Dark-boarded Bee-flies are everywhere, though skittish, I do get a couple of series of shots.

The rest of the reserve is closed due to Ash die back, so I turn back down the slope, over the lane and back up through the woods to the car.

Nearing the car, I disturb a Peacock sunning itself on the path, and that in turn disturbed a Small Tortoiseshell, the first I have seen for 21 months, rses into the air, then comes back down and settles to bask.

I get shots.

It was then a hundred yards back to the car, and time to go to pick Jools up as she walked along the main road from Lydden to Temple Ewell.

We thought we would go out for lunch, and after a few suggestions, we went to The Plough in Ripple where we hoped to have a sandwich or Ploughmans.

But things have changed, the Ripple Steam Brewery has closed, so the pub is no longer a taphouse, nor does it do food. So, we made do with a beer and some crisps and pork scratchings.

Back home for lunch and a refreshing brew, before an afternoon of gardening and Bangers and Cash while the sun headed west and there was a strong chill in air, chill enough to warrant putting the heating on.

We had dirty burgers and beer for supper, while the house warmed up. Easy to forget that despite it looking and feeling like spring, it can still snow this time of the year.

Football in the evening, with Man Utd being the fall guys yet again.

Some news

So, in little over three days, we fly out of Heathrow for India on quite an adventure.

We have three days in the Delhi and Agra ares, and then fly off on several safaris at three reserves looking for tigers and other exotic wildlife.

THe itinary is as follows:

09 April (Wednesday) 2025: Delhi to Nagpur and drive to Tadoba (PM Safari) (Flight: 0710 - 0840 hrs)
10 April (Thursday) 2025: Tadoba NP (AM & PM Safaris)
11 April (Friday) 2025: Tadoba to Pench (AM Safari)
12 April (Saturday) 2025: Pench (AM & PM Safaris)
13 April (Sunday) 2025: Pench (AM & PM Safaris)
14 April (Monday) 2025: Pench (AM & PM Safaris)
15 April (Tuesday) 2025: Pench to Bandhavgarh (Long drive)
16 April (Wednesday) 2025: Bandhavgarh (AM Safari)
17 April (Thursday) 2025: Bandhavgarh (AM & PM Safaris)
18 April (Friday) 2025: Bandhavgarh (AM & PM Safaris)
19 April (Saturday) 2025: Bandhavgarh (AM & PM Safaris)
20 April (Sunday) 2025: Bandhavgarh to Jabalpur and fly back to Delhi (Flight: 1545 - 1715 hrs)
21 April (Monday) 2025: Delhi to Sat Tal
22 April (Tuesday) 2024: Sat Tal
23 April (Wednesday) 2024: Sat Tal to Pangot
24 April (Thursday) 2025: Pangot
25 April (Friday) 2025: Pangot to Corbett via Corbett Falls
26 April (Saturday) 2025: Corbett (AM and PM Safaris)
27 April (Sunday) 2025: Corbett (AM and PM Safaris)
28 April (Monday) 2025: Corbett to Delhi

Then return on the 29th April to London.

I dn't think I will have time to update the blog during this time, so you can look forward to much to read in May. I will try to write every day, and will take plenty of photos.

My Indian colleagues hadn't heard of any of the places we are going to, though a Google search will bring up lots of detail.

Anyway.

It's all happening!

Love Labour's lost.

Labout swept into power last July mainly on the twin policies of not being Conservative and not saying anything likely to upset to Daily Mail.

Nine months on, and to be frank, its all gone a little Tory.

Benfit cuts. Too many claiming sick pay. Immigration bleeding the country dry. Spending cuts.

And so on.

To the point the policy, like on immigrants and the effect they have on the public purse, and what was said a year ago, are now opposite.

Labour promised they would make Britain better. They haven't.

Taxes up. Spending down. War on benefits. Blaming bats and newts for lack of progress on housing.

Its all so disappointing and Tory, really.

Labour used to stand for something, now, its a different shade of blue.

I will not vote for them again, I think, after this nine months of disappointment, and things are now likely to get worse.

There is just four short years before the next election is called, and Labour should know that out-Faraging Farage doesn't work, just ask the Conservatives.

Monday 31st March 2025

The Bee-fly is a nice looking flying insect, with its long mouthparts, and hovering to nectar like a tiny helicopter. But it hides a dark secret: females lay their eggs into the burrows of solitary bees, and when the eggs hatch they enter the bee pupea and eat them alive.

Nice.

We have two Bee-fly species in Kent:the dark edged, which is more common, nd the Dotted, which is what we have had visiting our garden for the last three years, and appeared yeaterday for the 4th season.

But first, to Monday.

We went to the gym first thing.

I say forst thing, it was just after eight, I hadn't been up long, but Jools had stuff planned, so needed to be on her way to Folkestone by quarter past nine.

I dd a session on the bike, half an hour, at an increased pace, to the sound of Gary Numan.

Which was nice.

Also nice was the fact the place was almost empty, with a fresh influx after nine, just as we were leaving.

Jools dropped my off home and went out on her chores, while I went back inside, made a brew, then sat on the patio watching the birds on the feeders.

The morning passed quickly.

Jools brought home salad for lunch, then for the afternoon there was double bangers and cash.

We both watched, only just managing to stay awake.

We had pasta and ragu for dinner, with the leftover garlic bread and a bottle of fizz.

We still know how to live.

Then some radio for the evening, and webcams, before going to bed at just after nine.

Phew, rock and roll.

Sunday 30th March 2025

The time is come for us to hit the woods.

Into the woods in search of orchids, other plants and butterflies.

One of the earliest places for seeing Early Purple Ochids in flowers first is the appropriatly named Earley Wood near Petham.

So, with the sun shining, and cold despite it being half nine in the morning, but that was really to being the first day of British Summer Time (BST), and so was "really" half eight.

I got my timings mixed up thinking it would be an hour "later", not earlier.

A quit drive along the A2 to Bridge, through the village and through the woods and soft fruit farms to Stone Street before turning off and going through the picture perfect village of Petham.

Out the other side, through the woods scattered with large houses until there was the gate to the reserve.

Earley wood is now a familar place. You walk down a wide gallop to a crossroads, then down the track leading to fields where there are Early Purples on both sides. Or in this case, Early Purple rosettes.

THere are carpets of Wood Amenonies everywhere, in all directions, and because of the warming sunlight, all beginning to open.

Also a few hardy Bluebells, English ones, are beginning to ipen and their stalks drooping.

But no butterflies.

We walk to the track to theright, and make our way to where the clearing used to be, now taken over by Broom, and go no further. If the orchids at the top are not in flower, the ones further down in the glade won't be.

We turn round.

As I'm waiting for Jools, perched on the bench, I spy a Peacock butterfy, and set off full of the thrill of the chase.

In the end, its not the best shot of a Peacock I have taken, but it the first butterfly shot of the year for me.

And I am happy with that.

We go home via the Petham Garden Centre and splurge fifty (50) quid in five minutes, so leave quickly after paying, load the car and head south down Stone Street, back to the M20 and thence back home.

Time for breakfast. A late one. Then peel some potatoes, soak in water, which I change every half an hour for 90 minutes s to get rid of the startch, then boil to just before turning to powder, left to steam dry and go all floury, popped into red hot duck fat and set in the over for 90 minutes to become perfect roasties.

I prep the rest of the vegetables, then with half an hourleft for the spuds, set them to steam and put the steak and stilton pies in to cook too.

Lovely.

Dinner was served, and whilst I ate I watched the footy and we lestened to Desrt Island Discs, a fine way to spend the afternoon, before moving onto te sofa and watching the Bournemouth v Citeh game.

Somehow that was then half six, and still brilliant daylight outside. We had toasted hot cross buns for supper, before som #WildflowerHour-ing on Bluesky.

Ad Sunday was done, but every day is the weekend now, so no need to worry about Monday.

Getting away with it

I wrote about COVID most days throughout the pandemic, at times there was little else to do. And even then I doubted Johnson and Hancock's words even as they spoke.

Five years ago this week, Johnson was discharged from the ICU having been at death's door, or not. And yet only had to isolate for three days, not 14 like the rest of us, before going back home to his heavily pregnant wife.

I am going to read my posts for each day, and ponder the words I wrote back then, and whether I was right in those doubts and suspicions.

Dominic Raab was made "designated survivor" for Cabinet, though it was never explained what this was for or meant, remember this is a man as Mnister for Brexit failed to realise how important Dover was for cross-Channel trade.

We hope that the inquiry will reveal some of the failings so we won't make the same mistake, but I don't hear much of that now.

Tens of billions spaffed on crap PPE, written off by Sunak, and now benefits cuts for the sick and disabled.

I thought Labour said it was going to get this money back when they came to power.

Funny old world.

Saturday 29th March 2025

We were up at half six, and after coffee I go to Tesco for some gathering.

The store is empty at that time, making it almost pleasant. I was back out by eight and drving home.

I was home when I realised that having bought mozzerella and tomatoes, I had no basil, so after getting the bags out, leaving Jools to put them away, I go back to Tesco for some.

Back home at half eight, then.

And the springflowers, Snake's Head Fritillaries, and Pasqueflowers, making a wonderful sight near to the back door, meaning sitting inside in the shade was most unappealing.

Not much planned for the day, other than there was a partial solar eclipse from ten to twelve, so I would snap that.

Fruit for breakfast, quickly followed by bacon butties in fresh seeded crusty rolls.

Yummy.

By which time the show in the sky to the south had begun, a chunk had already been snaffled out of the sun by the moon.

So, we spent the next two hours looking up at the sun, as the Aten was eaten by the moon, degree by degree.

It peaked at just about eleven, though there was no visible change in light in the garden, and then the moon moved away from the sun, and excitement passed.

Lunch was the first Caprese of the year, though the tomatoes were as hard as apples, so not that enjoyable.

There was also wine and garlic bread, which might explain my struggles to stay awake through the afternoon and evening. I missed most of the later cup tie between Brighton at Forest, which dragged on for three hours with injuries, extra time andpenalties.

Friday 28th March 2025

To our surprise, Jools was expected to go into work. We thought this was probably for presenttions, which proved to be right.

Meaning Jools woke my up as sheleft for yoga,and I did the usual chores for Friday: the bins, get the milk in and fill up the feeders. The only change was there was no work to do afterwards.

Which will take some getting ued to.

After breakfast I cleaned the cooker hob and vacummed the living room again, so the place was looking respectable.

A few weeks back I bought a Mandoline to help slice potatoes for fancy dishes.

And today's fancy dish was Boulangere Potatoes.

I stand here before you today and will admit to being stupid as:

1. Bought a Mandoline.
2. Ignored instructions.
3. Used for the first time today.
4. 4th slice, took the top off my thumb too.
5. Blood. Everywhere.

I had done a proper job.

A series of paper towels were used to stem the flow of the red stuff, so by the time Jools came back at midday laden with flowers and cards, she helped put on a bandage and paster tape.

I cooked the onions, slow, to make them caramelise, this took 40 minutes, at which point I had lost patience.

I used the took to hold potatoes as I sliced them, then layered the onions, potatoes, stock and clarified butter until the tin was full.

Into a low oven to cook.

As it tuened out, the conversion on temperatures from the recipe to our oven was off, so the potatoes didn't cook as much as they should. As I adjusted it through the day, the 90 minute cooking time stretched for over four hours.

To go with it were to thick rib-eyes and mushrooms.

Although not perfect, the potatotes were excellent, wonderful flavour. And the steak perfect and melt in the mouth.

THankfully, my thumb dodn't really hurt, and soon I forgot about it.

There was football on in the evening, and Sheffield Utd thrashed Coventry 3-0. Could have been six.

Thursday 27th March 2025

I awoke at half six still on the mattress on the floor between the two sofas.

Outside it was a typical Manchester day with glorious sunshine, which will make the journey back down south enjoyable.

I listen to a podcast, and as I have access to the kitchen, make a brew, and soon all was well with the world.

I folded up the bedding and then sat, waiting for Jen and Sylv to stir.

Jen is straightforward, plans and prepares well, Sylv is like herding kittens: easily distracted and prone to wandering off, several times a minute.

I set the target of leaving soon after nine, and once we had more brews, breakfast of hot cross buns, then packed, took out the trash, loaded the car, so, that wheels strarted to roll at half nine with the car full of us and Sylv's bags and possessions.

A quick fun through Kearsley, left at the roundabout and onto the motorway, through one junction where the other lanes heading towards Manchester were jammed, we cruised east at seventy, and soon began to climb towards Saddleworth Moor and the border with Yorkshire.

It was a glorious day, and while we were heading east over the Pennines, the sun was to our right, but once we turned south, and for most of the rest of the journey, we were heading straight into its light, and it hurts my eyes, Precious.

In order to avoid the jam on the A1, I turned down the M1, through Barnsley and Sheffield, before turning east on the M18, which to Jen's alarm was signposted to "The North".

Don't panic, I said.

Nine miles later we turned south onto the A1, having cut out the jam and back on track, I reckon having saved half an hour and quite a few miles with this new route.

Into Nottingham Shire, past Newark, into Lincolnshire, the land flattened out and thoughts turned to lunch.

My favourite place is the OK Diner, there are two on the A1, and the southbound one is near Peterborough just about halfway home.

I programmed that it, and had 40 miles before the lunch stop.

A shiny diner, full of American memorabilia, in these changed times, that might have to be rethought, but for now, with Little Richard over the cheap sound system we were shown to our seats and so we could look over the unhealthy menu.

I had a burger (of course) with added pulled pork, while Jen and Sylv had very small breakfast of bacon, eggs and fried potato.

And then, back in the car to go further south.

Modern road etiquette seems to be that on a four lane road, hardly anyone uses lane 1, middle lane wankers and trucks use lanes two and three, and everyone else uses lane four. If people used the roads like they should, move back to the inside lane except when overtaking, there'd be much room.

But no. This is my lane and I'm not moving from it, even if I drive only at fifty.

Twats.

So, in this way we head south, turning off back towards Cambridge on the A14, then south on the M11.

The aim was to be over the Dartford Crossing by three, when rush hour would make it even more busy. Thankfully, the M25 was pretty freely moving, and we reached the Crossing just after two, and crossed into Kent.

After surviving the madness that is the junction onto the A2, we cruised down through Kent, on the motorway past Faversham, then on past Canterbury to home.

I dropped them off at just gone three, and after taking their bags in, back via Pineham, as the school run had left most of Whitfield jammed with Chelsea Tractors.

Home at half three, with the feline welcoming committee telling me they had not been fed in 36 hours. I ignored them for a while, then placated them with kitty kibbles until dinner time at five.

Jools was having cocktails after work, and I was to collect her at seven from The Bell in Hythe, so into the glory of a stunning sunset, I drove to Dover then on to Folkestone to Hythe, to find the local cycling group filling the car park with expensive bike and lycra, before embarking on their weekly evening ride. Before returning to the pub after 90 minutes for a few swifters.

Jools wasn't there, but she called to say she was on her way, so I had a pint of stout and some crisps and chatted to the locals.

She arrived, tipsy fart, but happy, and with a takeaway. So after drinking up, we walk to the car and drive back home, traffic almost reduced to nothing.

Back home.

Farewell then, Mr Auditor

Dear Ian.

Dear Mr Hadingham.

Mr Bishop.

Dear Child has many names.

Almost 15 years in Vestas, in different roles: NCR cordinator, trainer, Project Quality Manager and Global Lead Auditor.

You have been part of two major company changes. You started in VestasOffshore, were part of the merger that became MHI Vestas Offshore, and four years ago, back to Vestas.

The past 6 years you have been part of the audit department(s). You are a dedicated Lead Auditor, always well prepared, knowing the ISO standards like the back of your hand, always trying to improve Vestas.

You, Henrik and I have been colleagues for about 12 years. Thank you for being a supportive friend in the different challenges we faced together these past years, these being COVID or the many departmental changes over these last 6 years.

Looking forward, you now get more timefor yourhobbies, and travelling soon, handing in your computer so not have to attend Teams meetings or sitting at your dining room table on a daily basis.

We hope to keep in touch and look forward to followyou on new adventures in the coming years.

Wednesday 26th March 2025

Wednesday.

And time for a road trip.

Two tasks to do in the Greater Manchester area: 1. return my IT equipment to the UK head office in Warrington, and 2. Pick up Sylv as she's cat sitting.

Jools borrowed Jen's car, as Jen was riding shotgun with me.

It was going to be a glorious early spring day, lots of sunshine, light winds, good company, and the only problem was the Great British traffic.

The road system is a mess: poorly thought out from the start, poorly built due to underfunding and poor workmanship, and now the country lacking the money to fix the issues.

And the ten trillion cars that are on the roads every day of the week.

Jools left for work at half six, giving me two hours to get my shit together, load the car and be on the road for soon after nine once the schools runs were over.

And I remembered to update my debit cart for the DART charge.

Wheels rolled at nine fifteen, over to Whitfield where Jen was ready. We put her stuff in the car and wheels rolled for the second time at half nine.

To get from Dover to Manchester, there are a number of routes; the first decision being to go either clockwise or anti-clockwise round the M25.

Anti-clockwise is shorter, but also means using the Dartford Crossing. Then either going across on the A14 from Cambridge to the bottom of the M6, or up the A1 and across the moors on the M62.

I like a good moor, so up the A1 it was.

Heck, the A2 was clear, the Dartford Crossing was (almost) clear, and we made good time to the M11 turn, so headed north.

I cruised at 70, and we made good time and chatted as I drove, dodging in and out of traffic before turning west on the A14 at the top of the motorway.

I have been using this road for so long, I can remember the A14 being built in 1990-91, it now has three lanes and is pretty much a motorway, at least to the A1 junction, where we turned north again.

We stopped at Peterborough services where we had a comfort break, and then a picnic as Jen had made sandwiches and coffee. So we sat in a picnic bench next to the car park and ate in the sunshine, while I fed crumbs to the crows and rooks waiting.

Then back in the car to carry on north.

Only issue was where a bridge was being repaired, and so the two lanes went down to one. OK, bridges and stuff wears out, but there was no one working on the bridge, just lots of equipment, and the two miles of single file traffic for a hundred yard long bridge repair?

Beats me.

We get through and turn west, finally, to go over the Pennines on the M62,which for a change was in brilliant sunshine, even up on Saddleworth Moor.

Down the other side and into Manchester and its smog.

Now: to go to the office straight away or save that treat for Thursday morning.

As it was a nice day and we had hours, we turned to go round the M60 north to Warrington.

In fact, traffic wasn't so bad, andwe got there in about 40 minutes.

I carried my IT stuff to the office, was shown to IT and he was amazed I was returning the power lead, as apparently no one does.

I needed to hand over my company credit card, but there was no one from Finance or HR to take it off me, so with a dozen witnesses, I cut it up and dropped the bits into the bin.

All over now.

Back to the car and out into the maze that is Birchwood, onto the motorway, and straight onto the back of a two mile jam waiting to get onto the ring road.

But we had time,

So, we inched along and then if not cruised, got along OK until we were three miles from Slylv's, and on the offramp to Kearsley.

That encountered and the traffic clogged roundabout, down into the village and just past the pub. One of the pubs. Into the estate and parked up outside Sylv's.

It was half four, but we had done it.

I had a well-earned brew, while Jen and Sylv has gin and tonics, and we talked.

And talked.

But by half six, thoughts turned to food, ad where to eat. The three pubs in the village didn't do food, or the one that did had mostly one star ratings on Tripadvisor.

The next nearest one did food, but there was a pb quiz on, so I drove in case we had to go somewhere else.

We parked outside the brightly lit Horseshoe Pub, and inside they squeezed us in and all was set.

We had to wait twenty minutes to be asked our drink order, then the lass got it wrong, and took against us for the rest of the evening.

We had to ask if we should put the order at the bar as another twenty minutes had passed, but she came over with a face that would turn fresh milk sour. She took the order, and I had something called rag pudding, expecting a beef suet pudding.

Not sure how to explain what did come: a beef filled parcel of either pastry or thin suet, and the meat insides, instead of chunks was mince.

But was tasty, as was the carrots, peas and chips, covered in gravy.

"Rag pudding is a savoury dish consisting of minced meat and onions wrapped in a suet pastry, which is then cooked in a cheesecloth. Invented in Oldham, the dish is also popular in Bury and Rochdale, and is eaten across the Lancashire area. Rag pudding pre-dates ceramic basins and plastic boiling bags in cookery, and so the cotton or muslin rag cloths common in Oldham were used in the dish's preparation during the 19th century." From Wikki.

Back home for a wine and then make up beds and time to get our heads down, and the long journey back home in the morning.

Tuesday 25th March 2025

Tuesday.

My second day without purpose, but one which I would force purpose upon.

Jools woke me at ten to seven, so I got up and once dressed had a coffee.

Right. I saw the living and dining room looked untidy, the carpet dirty. I got the vacuum out and swept both parts of the living room.

This scared the cats out of the house. So, either side of breakfast I swept and cleaned.

Once the noise eased, the cats returned and went to sleep.

It was a glorious, if chilly morning. Once warm enough, I went to sit on the patio, the two Pasqueflowers in the pot on the steps, although were open, were also drooping.

There is something about the two main colours, the purple of the petals and the bright yellow of the stamens, is perfect.

To my amazement, the mobile phone took great shots of the two open flowers in the pot, and all the while, the air was full of birdsong, but the song of dear Jenny Wren the sweetest of all.

I really should have gone for a walk, but finally get my act together at half ten, the sun very warm on my neck.

I meet the lady who has the orchid rosette in her verge, I point this out and she is thrilled, and eagerly agrees for it not to be mowed, and to build a small fence for it.

Along the lane, the Alexanders are all out, and many of the flowers full of Yellow Dung Flies, I snap a few and walk on.

A single male Brimstone flits along the lane, but fails to settle. This is the third I have seen this year, along with a single Peacock and Small Tortoiseshell both this week.

But not any to snap.

I push on over the field to Fleet House. My back is not happy, but I do it. The fields either side of the path have now been ploughed and seeded, so no alfalfa for Clouded Yellows to nectar on this year.

I see no Large tortoiseshells, so turn round and head for home, back over the field,

Already the clear blue skies of the morning were hazing over, and soon were clouded over, and so the day got chill.

I had lunch and then settled down with Scully to watch TV.

She curled up and purred loudly.

Once Jools was back home at twenty to six, we go straight out to Jen's to pick up her car, as she and I are on a road trip the next two days, and Jools needed a car.

More on that was we get it.

Monday 24th March 2025

What a difference a week makes: last week I had six audit reports to write, this Monday I had to wait in for the boiler man to service the heating.

And that was it.

I was going to get Jools to drop me off in Westcliffe when she went to work, and then me wander home. But not really trusting my back, and no knowing when the boilerman was due. Coupled with thick early fog meant I cancelled that.

I cleaned the cooker through the day, as well as mowed the meadow beside the hedge. The grass, Cleavers and Hedge Garlic grows so thick there, there's no chance for wild flowers, so I razed it. And pretty much most of the area west of the path will be left to its own devices and not be seeded any more, as its underneath the washing line so will get trampled.

Saying that, the Cowslips seem to thrive there and are spreading well. Also its where the last of the Fennel is hanging on, mainly thanks to its deep taproot.

Battle will be met again later this year.

The boilerman came, did his stuff and left.

I had oatcakes for lunch, and then settled down with Scully for some Bangers and Cash "action".

Being a Monday, Jools and I went to the gym, me to do half an hour on the bike to get the blood pumping, and listen to some old tunes. It was manic in the sports centre, we find the last parking space and walk to the entrance.

Upstairs in the gym, it was mad too, but my machine was empty, so I programmed it for my session, fitted the headphones and got pedalling.

Back home, I make sausage rolls for supper, which we watch as England kicked off against Estonia.

Not good stuff, but England won 3-0 against Estonia.

Sunday 23rd March 2025

So, what is it, Precious?

Is it biscuits and gravy?

No, it is not that abomination.

It is more Angel Delight?

No.

It's actual custard, not bright yellow like the brand, Birds, but dark because of the dark unrefined sugar I used, as it was either that or icing sugar.

We had been given a cherry pie at the butchers, and so I made this custard to go wit it, and although not looking too nice, with two vanilla pods in it, was mighty tasty.

That was by far the most interesting thing that happened all day, as dreich settled in from dawn and got little better.

Jools had gone to the pool while I was still asleep, so once she came back we had breakfast and then pondered on what to do.

Not much in the end.

Listened to radio. Watched football. Ate cherry pie and custard. And watched more football.

I brightened up at the end of the afternoon, but that was about it.

Jools carried on with her crochet gorilla upstairs, and I put Dr John Copper Clarke who was sitting in for Iggy Pop on the wireless.

One minor panic in the evening as we found the airline we booked our flights through had gone bust in November and the agents had not told us.

So, a flurry of mails and calls to our guide, and something to be sorted out first thing Monday.

Two weeks now until we fly.

Getting close.

I stayed up late watching France v Croatia, which went to extra time and penalties, ending at half ten.