I'll have to come back and see those, I said. Not realising it would be four years.
It was a promise I made to Fran, a butterfly expert that one day I would take her to see the Large Blues.
This weekend was that time.
Not sure why it was this weekend, but the Blues had been seen, not in great numbers, but enough.
I mean, one's enough, really.
Apt words.
And there were reports of a new site for the very rare Red Helleborine orchid. Most years, a single spike, sometimes two, is all that flowers in all of the UK, at a site in Buckinghamshire. But this was big, though top secret news.
As temperatures were supposed to top thirty degrees, we knew we had to get there early. A cock up in my calculations meant that instead of arriving in Gloucestershire at half nine, it was half eight.
It meant getting up at quarter to four, getting ready, then leaving at quarter past to get to Fran's for twenty past five.
It was the summer solstice, Fran had gone down the beach to watch the sunrise, while we saw it as we drove through the Sandwich marshes on the bypass.
At least traffic was light, so we arrived just after five, and ten minutes later with the car loaded, we set off along Thanet Way.
The sun was rising in a clear blue sky, but it was cool. Well, fifteen degrees.
We turned down the A249, also empty, so we could join the M20 at Maidstone before driving towards London and then along the M26 to the road to hell, M25.
There was traffic, but no jams. So we made good time, around the southern suburbs, past Heathrow and up the motorway to Oxford.
Made such good time we stopped off at High Wycombe for a break and to get a coffee.
Back on the road for the last hour or so, and the sat nav took is round the Oxford suburbs, which was OK before eight in the morning, then along the long straight road towards Cheltenham and butterfly county.
We parked at a small layby, trees overhanging the car, making it almost dark.Directions I had been given took us over a stile and into the woods, and up. And across.
Were the directions wrong? It seemed a bit of a wild goose chase, along a well used track.
Then, a caged enclosure, which was the last thing you would expect in remote Cotswold woodland. But sure enough, inside were three flowering spikes, all near to the fence. Light fell through the canopy, and illuminated the plants.
I took maybe a hundred shots, just as well, as one series showed clear pollination visit by a Marmalade hoverfly. And my pictures had it clear, even if I didn't see it at the time!
Hapy with our shots, we walked back down, passing nobody except a singe dogwalker, with whom we passed the time of day.
Research had shown we might have the best luck at the Daneway Reserve, so we made our way there, over downs and then down and up deep valleys with picturesque villages built of creamy Cotswold stone.Lanes through ancient woodlands, the road sunk into a cutting, and massive beech trees towered overhead. Then once on hight ground, the vista opened out to show a fine and rolling countryside.
Its good visitors know little of this area, or they'd never leave.
We grabbed the only parking space at the reserve, we grab camera and me a walking pole too, and set off to search high and low for the Large Blue.
By the now weather was cloudy, and we had driven through two unexpected showers, and rain was in the air the three hours we were at the reserve.
Even walking on the flat was hot and taxing, we moved deeper into the reserve, and the path climbed upwards, until we came to a hollow which had less vegetation.
It felt right.
So, while Jools and Fran went on, I stayed, found a place to sit and wait.
Half an hour or more went past, and I went to explore, which is when I saw what I assumed had to have been a toffee wrapper in the short grass, because no butterfly could be that obvious to see from 10m.
I went closer, and it was a male Large Blue, sunning himself in the weak sunshine. Were it sunny as expected, he would be on the wing, but here he was.I took shots as I moved closer, then he was gone, I lost sight as the blue flash flittered behind some tall grass.
I tried to call Jools and sent a message. They did not get it.
And hour later, with me waiting, they came back, and we searched some more. An elderly couple came to speak, I told them where I had seen the male, promising to call them if we refound him.
It was, however, them who refound the male, basking in the long grass nearby. We took turns in getting more shots, easy when he stayed in the same place for ten minutes or more.
But he flew off in the end, and we let him go.
We ambled back to the car, it was now gone noon, and thoughts turned to lunch and a drink. The pub at the bottom of the hill was full with cars, so the next alternative seemed to be the Green Dragon in Cockleford.
Situated in the valley of a small river, the pub is picture box perfect, with attached shop and deli. We have drinks and a sandwich, and afterwards Jools buys a selection of cheeses from the shop.All that was left was to go home.
The sat nav took us to Birdlip, then along the high road to Swindon, and once there we joined the M4 to head west.
Traffic was thick, but moved freely. We took a diversion to miss the worse of the jams on the M25, but found some at the A3 junction anyway.
A quick stop at Cobham for relief. I went to M&S to buy something for dinner, and when we rejoined the motorway, it was moving freely, and was until we reached Kent and turned back along the M26 towards Dover and home.
We dropped Fran home, then drove back to Thanet Way, down to Sandwich, where the poor thirsty car was refuelled, and to home, getting back at half six.
So we fed the cats.
I skinned the sausages, browned the meat, added sauce and simmered for twenty minutes, cooked the pasta, and baked the garlic bread.
Not home made, but good enough after a long day. We ate well and drank wine or cider.
The day ended with England knocking favourites Spain out of the U21 Euros.
I celebrated with another beer.
Cheers, and good night.
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