Tuesday 24th March 2026

You know the drill by now.

Being a Tuesday, it's off to the gym on my own first thing, leaving home at ten to six, so to arrive at six when the doors open. Up to the studio, on the bike and listen to the latest Word in Your Ear podcast while I peddle.

I was done by ten to seven, so nip to Tesco for a few things, and a few things we didn't need, and stuff we needed but I forgot.

Anyway, enough supplies to the end of the week, and back home at twenty past seven, where there was a fresh brew waiting.

Jools was out for several hours, so she left at twenty to eight, and I am left with more stuff to sort out, including a big box of family photos that were mostly doubles, triples.

Even with already having copies in albums, it feels wrong to throw pictures out that have been kept in some cases for 90 years or more. But with no one to leave them to, and I doubt if I will look at the albums more than once a year, if that, why not just clear them away.

So, a large box with the photographs, and five years of WSC as the drawer beside the bed where I keep them is now full. I don't read copies other than the season previews more than once, so out they go too.

The other task is to bottle the sloe port.

Sloe port is what you can make once the sloe gin is decanted, refilling the container with a mix of 75% red wine/25% fortified wine, plus some sugar.

This produces a wonderful drink, and is very pleasant straight from bottling.

So I get busy, and do it in about an hour, and for a change, make no mess with split port. I save a glass for us to try once Jools is back, then clean the demijohns and jugs, and pack stuff away.

Jools has found my stamp collection. Mostly collected by my Dad when I was a baby and toddler. It is a joy to see the bold stamp designs for the swinging 60s in Britain, and from around Europe and the world. I even find some stamps with orchids on!

Missing is the pre-war German stamps from the 1920s, which Mum insisted I return to her. Which I did, and so when she passed, they ended up as landfill. Not that they were that valuable, but of historic interest, as many had been double printed with new values as hyper-inflation took hold.

We have pie, roast potatoes, steamed vegetables and gravy for lunch-cum-dinner, along with a bottle of fizz!

And normally we would be done for the day. Except we had a chaise longues delivered for a place for reading in the bright bathroom.

It was delivered as we were having dinner, so once we were rested, we unbox it, and transport the bits upstairs.

It has just seven parts, and four of those are the short legs. And it went together OK, but was awkward, but after half an hour was done. Mostly.

I'll post shots tomorrow.

With no football on TV, I read an old music magazine in bed before turning in at half eight.

Pooped again.

Monday 23rd March 2026

It is Monday.

Again.

But, no worries. No work, and literally no worries.

I do, however, have to go to Deal first thing for some foot fondling.

When I say that, I mean as I was diagnosed with diabetes last year, hope to soon not be, but I have to look after my feet, and there is a podiatrist in Deal, who checks my feet, trims nails and gives advice.

This would be my third visit.

But we woke up to a right old pea souper.

I mean at times we could not see beyond the bottom of the garden. Which most days is not a problem. But going to Deal could mean the right turn at the bottom of Station Road, and two weeks back a neighbour, Jerry, got T-boned turning right there. Wasn't injured, but the car totalled.

Just to be safe, I leave early, and drive to the Duke of Yorks, go all the way round and back along the Deal road.

Safe as houses.

Even with the thick fog, 10% or so of cars had no lights, and about another 10% had fog lights on.

I have no words.

So, I drive into Walmer and find a place to park near Deal Castle, then walk along the promenade to the base of the pier, just for some snaps in the fog. Even then it was lifting, and instead was just plain murky.

I went to the High Street to the brand new branch of Greggs, have a sausage roll before walking to the clinic.

The day had begun, traffic was thinning out. A dust cart was doing the bins as I walked along.

Up the stairs and into the chair where she assessed my feet. Applied a dressing to a wound I got from Cyprus, caused by socks. Don't ask. Nails trimmed, skin sanded down and cream applied.

I walk back to the car and am home in ten minutes, as Jools is off out, also to Deal for a walk and to take a friend for a coffee.

So I was home alone. Have breakfast, fill the feeders and watch videos.

The morning ticks by.

There is more sorting of stuff to do. Two more boxes of books and photos brought down from the loft, so I spend the afternoon filling the family albums with more shots. Most doubles, I'm sure, but I lost the will to check.

Only I will ever look at these albums, and I am doing them so if the family are looking down, I might not visit their graves often, I have sorted out their memories and photographs.

That done I cook dinner.

Which we eat listening to Desert Island Discs, which passes an hour until the afternoon becomes early evening and its time to feed the cats and wash up.

No football to watch.

Oh noes.

So, Jools goes out to visit her brother, and I stay in and watch some science stuff about Jupiter.

As you do.

New front in the culture wars

As if the wars on Easter, Poppy Day and Christmas were not enough to get the red flushed faced up in arms, its now money.

For the last few years, the Royal Mint has replaced all the definitive coins with ones featuring British fauna and flora. Though most wouldn't have seen them yet, as mintage has been very low due to people using cashless, but the "bee" pound coins are out there.

So far so nature.

Right?

Well, news came last week that the notes are going to be replaced with animals and plants too, incuding the £5 note.

The current note, brough in, according to the Mint's own website only in 2016, features one Winston Churchill.

"Messing with tradition!.

"Replacing Churchill with a badger!"

And so on.

There is nothing about erasing our heritage or histroy, just change. Change in something that has only featured the wartime leader for a decade.

Maybe they could get worked up about something not so pathetic next time. But I doubt it.

Sunday 22nd March 2026

Sunday.

Again.

Being a Sunday, it means going to the gym first thing. Well, after coffee and getting dressed.

Not much to say about the gym really.

We went.

We cycled.

We puffed.

And left.

So, back home just after eight, and with it being a bright and sunny warm day, it would be a pity to spend it watching football.

I say "warm", and it was indeed warm when the sun found a gap in the clouds, but at other times, the wind that had shifted round to the north, made it chilly.

After breakfast, Jools finished the bed at the front of the house, taking the old lavender out and planting younger ones on their place, so the path was revealed again.

I had a shower, then ran the mower over the now vigorous sprouting grass, but leaving the lawnmeadow part alone.

It looks kind of neat.

At midday the football began. Three games in a row, all worth watching, and yet another day spent on the sofa seems a waste.

Just as well as there's an international break next week, so much less football on the TV.

The Tyne-Wear derby was up first: Newcastle v Sunderland, and Sunderland scored late to take the points and bragging.

Next up the Meh Derby: Spurs v Forest, where the loser could be relegated. A game neither, then, could afford to lose. But Spurs did lose, 3-0 after dominating the first half, only to concede in the last minute before half time. And never recovered.

Finally, the League Cup Final between Citeh and Arse: a fair game in which I wanted both teams to lose, but one had to win, and that was Citeh.

Oh well.

Pizza and beer for dinner during the final, and that was the day and weekend done with.

Saturday 21st March 2026

The first orchid in Kent was found to be in flower on Fray. An Early Purple in the Faversham area.

In previous years I would have gone out to all the sites I know, checking spikes for one in flower.

But I am different now.

Also, we had to go out at weekends, as we worked during the week, but now we go out during the week, mostly to avoid people.

So, although it took willpower on my part, we did not go orchiding over the weekend.

But we did go to the gym Saturday morning. Me with my new headphones too. Jools went swimming, so I cycled alone, which is fine.

Another fine Spring morning, cool enough for a ground frost on some cars and the field at Westcliffe, but would warm up.

After phys, I popped to Tesco for a few things to tide us over until mid-week. I bought no beer, but did buy cider for Jools so she didn't run out.

Then back to the sports centre to pick Jools up when she came out of the sauna and had a shower. So back home for half eight for breakfast of short life savoury stuffed eggs and a fresh brew.

Jools did gardening, and I had a shower, prepared potatoes for hash, then vacuumed the utility room, kitchen, living room and stairs.

The vacuum is also the Mk1 cat scaring device, so they either went upstairs or out.

At half midday the football marathon began: Ipswich v Millwall which ended a fair 1-1 draw.

Then to the radio to follow Norwich at Charlton, as our injury crisis deepened, and yet City won 1-0 so now have 54 points and are 12th.

At some point I cooked hash, and we ate whilst the radio or TV burbled.

Then to Coventry at Swansea, and Coventry were 3-0 up at half time and cruising, with all teams just below them either lost or drew. So I switched over to watch the second half of Everton v Chelsea, and was rewarded with a 3-0 home win as the cheats lost again.

I couldn't face a 5th game, Leeds v Brentford, so went to bed at half eight, so missed the 0-0 draw.

Friday 20th March 2026

We reached Friday, 364 days since my last day at work.

Time has flown.

The spring and summer and then first part of the weekend was easy, going out lots. But once the clocks went back, the long dark evenings dragged, but with our hobbies and interests. And the gym, time went quick, and any thoughts of needing to return to work was banished.

After two busy days out and about, Friday was to be a quiet one, with Jools out at Yoga and the library all morning. And on top of that, two tip runs.

While I stayed home and did stuff.

In the garden the cowslips are coming into the flower, and the pasqueflowers will be next. It was a wonderfully warm morning, warm enough to sit in the various places in the garden as Sol travelled across the sky.

Scully and Cleo joined me down at the bottom patio under the shelter. Cleo being contrary, demanded strokes and cuddles as she rubbed against my legs. Most of the time in the house, I can't get near her.

Cats.

Jools was due home at two, so lunch at half past of homemade buttermilk chicken, steamed vegetables, creamed spinach and Spanish rice.

That went down well.

Then came an hour or two of more relaxing, washing up until it was time for the music quiz, which I again had a mindblank on, so failed to guess Everything Must Go.

As its the last weekend before the international break, there was Prem football in the evening: Bournemouth v Man Utd, which ended a 2-2 draw, and was entertaining.

Which is about all I can ask.

Thursday 19th March 2026

Before I was born, the Large tortoiseshell butterfly was declared extinct in the UK.

Numbers had fallen for years, maybe due to Dutch elm disease, or something else.

A once common sight in the south of England, gone forever.

A few years back, news of a potential breeding colony was reported on the Isle of Portland in Dorset, with sightings of its caterpillars.

Such sightings were put down to migration or captive release, but sightings spread. To the Isle of Wight, Sussex and then to Kent.

A large wood on the edge of the Romney Marsh held two populations, and as the butterflies emerge from hibernation in late February or early March, it seemed a good idea to go on the warmest sunniest day of the year.

I spoke with the butterfly whisperer, Fran, and she said she would come along and guide me to at least one of the sites, and maybe we would get lucky.

On the 9th March this year, the charity, Butterfly Conservation, changed the status of the Large tortoiseshell from "migrant" to "resident", a change that predates the charity itself.

I am sure I saw one over by Fleet House a few years back. A large orange and brown butterfly that glided rather than fluttered, could really not be anything else. If only I got a picture.

So to Thursday.

Being a Thursday, it was up with the larks, and as it was getting light, so to be leaving the house just before six to get our session done.

I had a new pair of "over-ear" headphones to try out. Although they were sweaty, the sound was fine, and I had a good session, if the time did drag.

Back home for a shower and get dressed, have breakfast, so that come nine, I was ready to meet Fran at the station, and drive us to Orlestone.

I know Kent either through orchids or churches, so I could get us within a couple of miles of the wood, but then let the phone do the hard work to get us to the reserve car park.

From there it was a ten minute walk to one of the four gallops created through the wood, and along these the butterflies spend most of their time, high in the treetops.

We knew from reports that the furthest gallop is where most of the butterflies were the day before, so we walked over there, then slowly walked up and down the gallop a mile each way.

We saw Peacocks, Commas, Brimstones as well as Orange underwing moths, but no Large torties.

We knew that most of them emerge after midday, so with it being half twelve, thoughts turned to whether we should go to the other site, the crossroads.

I had done 14,000 steps already, and my right knee was getting sore, so I said I would stay and walk back down the third gallop, and see if I got lucky.

I bet you'll see one and get shots, Fran said.

Indeed.

They had been gone less than ten minutes when movement caught my eye, and a butterfly landed in the mud about 5m from where I was.

Probably a Comma again, I thought.

As I was looking into the sun, the light shone through its wings, revealing the parallel vertical bars meaning it was a Large tortoiseshell.

I edge closer, got shots, then called Fran to tell her I had one, and it was still beside me. She got the message although the signal broke up.

I waved to two others to come over, they struggled with the deep mud, but as soon as the guy made it, I moved and the butterfly flew off.

But he had binoculars, and he followed the insect up into the trees, where it perched. Fran arrived, and we talked, then there was more movement, as it came down to a lower branch, before gliding back to the ground for more puddling and basking.

There were perhaps eight to ten of us, so we formed a ring a short distance from the butterfly, and we all got shots, while the butterfly showed no signs of moving.

Job done.

Shall we get a dink I asked Fran.

Yes, a drink would be great.

So we walked back to the car all of a dither as the excitement faded, then drove from the wood to Ivychurch, to the pub next to the church, where nursing cold drinks we dined on cheesy chips in the beer garden, while half a dozen Peacocks fluttered about.

I took Fran back to Herne Bay, driving along the coast to Hythe, then up to the motorway and up Stone Street, onto the A2 and up to Faversham before taking Thanet Way back east.

And after dropping Fran off, back to the Thanet Way, to Ramsgate and then to Sandwich, Deal and home, driving back through the late afternoon golden light.

Quite the day.

Summer was garlic chicken and stir fry with noodles, done in twenty minutes. While I was away, Jools had done lots of gardening, and had just sat down, so dinner would be welcome.

And that was the day.

No football in the evening as we were pooped and so went to bed before nine.

Wednesday 18th March 2026

The Kent Church Project, which I grandly names the process of visiting churches in the Garden of England, with the aim to record the exterior and interior of each of the parish churches, or at least the listed ones, began in July 2009.

And the two questions I get are:

1. How many churches are there in Kent?

2. How many more do you have to do?

The answer to both is: it depends.

Kent is not the same now as it was in Hastead's day, a chuck is now part of Greater london.

This is modern Kent.

But historical Kent includes places like St Mary Cray and Bromley.

Jools goes to an art group in Bromley once a month. I was to go with her last month but the weather was supposed to be cold and wet, so I bailed. But this month, on Wednesday, was to be the warmest day of the year thus far.

It was agreed I would catch the ten to nine train, Jools would follow 90 minutes later after her fitness class, and we would meet up for lunch, then either I stay in the pub drinking beer all afternoon to half five, or I come home.

And whilst in Bromley I would visit their parish church. I checked lots of times that it would be open, so all was set.

Jools dropped me off at ten past eight. I went to the buffet and bought a tea and breakfast wrap. It was bland, but warm, and the tea passable.

Then onto the platform, over the bridge and down onto the island platforms of 1 and two, sit and wait for the train to come in.

It was warm even before nine, so I took shots of the waiting Javelin and the station before sitting down to wait some more.

The train rattled in, and we few passengers got on, spreading ourselves out over the four carriages, all ready for the off.

I use this line when I go to Canterbury, but its maybe fifteen yeas since I went to Rochester and Chatham and beyond.

Beyond Rochester be dragons.

The train skipped two stations, so the next was Bromley, my stop. So I got off the now busy train, up more steps and out through the barriers into the town, on the main street.

London buses of various sizes ran up and down, London taxis waited for fairs outside the station. It looked and felt like London.

The church was up the high street about a quarter mile, then left at the junction, and was there, all churchy.

Rows of neat independent shops mixed with chains, all rather pleasing. And with street fruit and veg stalls offering over-ripe bargains.

I walked up, looked in at the jeweller, as my watch is playing up and Mr Timpson says he can't put another battery in it. That that battery cost ten quid to fit, than the actual value of the watch when I bought it.

However, the cheapest watch was £200, and that's without looking at the Rolexes.

I walked on to the church, where I found just the children's chapel was open, for private prayer.

I swore.

I was not happy. And wrote how unhappy I was about it in the visitors book.

It was then that I remembered the parish office was next door, so I may throw myself at their mercy and tell them my long and arduous journey up the line from Deepest Dover.

I knocked.

A lady came to the door, and as I explained that I had travelled nearly an hour and twenty minutes just to see the church, she asked if I'd like to see inside now.

I would.

So I was let in, but told I had to be done by midday for the next service.

I had an hour. More than enough time.

The church burned was destroyed in 1941, and the present church built, but the original tower was kept.

So the modern church is plain, but pleasing to the eye, with nice modern glass, textiles and wall paintings.

I helped set up the communion table, or at least move it into place. And was done, so I tanked all who made my visit so enjoyable, and set off back into the town.

Now, if only I could find a barbers.

The first one I came to had frosted glass, so I didn't bother opening the door. The second one, opposite the station was busy, but on one waiting.

I went in.

I was in the chair within five minutes, and chatting long to the barber as he shorn my locks.

Bromley he thought, when asked, is both Kent and London. He liked it, but then he grew up in St Mary Cray which he made sound like 80s Compton in downtown LA.

Just down the street was the 'Spoons, where I was to meet Jools. I don't normally darken their door, but just once won't hurt.

I bought a pint of elderflower bitter (!) and sat to wait for Jools to arrive on her train at ten past midday.

She arrived, so I had already bought her a cider. We ordered food and waited, where behind Jools was a bank of noisy flashing one armed bandits, as we used to call them.

I had Korean chicken burger, which was crap. The chips were OK, and the onion rings greasy.

But it was cheap, and a pint of Leffe Golden ale was only four quid.

I'd sleep well on the train back home.

I caught the two o'clock train, it was mighty busy, but I got a seat, but not near the window so closed my eyes as the train rattled back south.

At Faversham I got a window seat, so enjoyed watching the countryside roll past until most folks got off at Canterbury, leaving a few of us to go all the way to Dover.

I drove back home, put the kettle on and in my usual manner whiled away 90 minutes, and soon it would be time to collect Jools.

The cats were fed, curtains closed and heating turned up a notch.

Out in the car, driving through the gloaming of a just set sun, past the Castle and down into town, parking outside the station for Jools's arrival.

And once she climbed in the car, I turned round and we went back to Townwall Street, up Jubilee Way to home, where darkness had fallen.

The kettle was boiled, brews made.

The evening was spent listening at first to Newcastle being crushed by Barcelona, then Liverpool easing to a 4-0 win. Sadly, Norwich lost to Southampton, 1-0, despite dominating the game.

So it goes. So it goes.

Tuesday 17th March 2026

Tuesday.

And its back to the gym, and up at the crack of sparrahs so to be done so Jools can go to her class at half seven.

The alarm goes off at quarter past three, so quiet I could hardly hear it.

But I was expecting it.

And out of bed, wash and get dressed, drink coffee and out of the house by ten to six, arriving at the sports centre as the lycra clad hordes were being allowed in.

A minute or two later I follow them in, and up the stairs where I find both bikes empty. But I only need one. So with Jools's headphones I carry on listening to the podcast and begin peddalling.

It's a warm morning outside, and inside I am soon sweating, and not enjoying myself.

Some days time flies by, and on others it drags. This was one of the dragging days.

But I do my time, so can leave. Walking back to the car it was all of ten to seven.

Proper Spring had arrived. Clear blue skies, light southerly winds and warm temperatures. This'll bring on the spring flowers, I thought.

Still none of my favourites in flower when I check them once home after putting out the bird seed.

Jools had made me a brew before she left, so I drank that and was soon ready for a shower.

Exciting stuff!

Once dressed, back downstairs for breakfast and to check on the world.

Its still in one heck of a mess, and with the Orange Shitgibbon in charge in the US, not likely to get better any time soon.

Jools comes back at half eleven.

Hungry, she says.

Shall we go out, I says?

Fish and chips?

Yes, fish and chips.

So into the car and out onto the Deal road, into Walmer and to Deal, where we nab the last parking space, walk up the narrow passageway to The Strand, along and into the chippy.

We take a table in the back room, order scampi for Jools and skate wing for me. And then wait, people watching out of the window onto the side street.

The food came, piping hot, straight out of the fryer, and then straight into my mouth.

Yummy.

Once we had eaten our fill, there was just time to take shots of the beach and pier before getting back to the car and driving to Jen's, as she is having Australian visa issues.

Once in Whitfield, we get the story, in that she is dealing with a third party who are trying to force her into applying for a visa straight away, so they can get their thirty pieces of silver no doubt.

So, instead I go to the Australian Government's website, get better info, and all is peaceful. The agency are put on the blocked calls list, and we all have a brew.

Back home through the school run, with idiots in their Chelsea Tractors parking on the narrow estate roads, blocking other traffic, parking on junctions and being dicks.

Two can play at that game. No, I will not drive on the pavement to allow the woman who did not wait to get by.

It all gets sorted and we're back home in St Maggies, where two hours early, the cats claim its dinner time.

I watch more Mannerism in the Sky catch up thing, and Scully settles down beside me to sleep, not that hungry after all.

As always, the day ends with football: one the radio and on the TV, Citeh and Chelsea do dreadfully, apt for two dreadful clubs, and so are out of Europe.

Monday 16th March 2026

Monday. Again.

And a day with nothing much planned, and so a day in which nothing much happened.

Even the weather was dull, grey, cool, and not really inviting to go out in.

Jools went swimming first thing, getting ready while I slept on, only to be woken at twenty to six by Cleo using my legs as a way of getting from one side of the bed to the other.

Since we went away, I have a whole pile of podcasts, videos and radio shows to catch up on, so there is no trouble that I'll get bored.

And being an only child, I learned young how not to get bored, to read, listen or live inside my head.

And then there is the endless photos of orchids from Cyprus to sort through, edit and post. The blogs are posted, though I need to expand on them to make them more readable, and maybe add a shot or two.

So in doing one thing or another, the morning flies by.

We do find time to go to Tesco, to get fresh supplies as we were out, so we were there at nine, just before the second wave of older customers crashed into the car park.

For lunch there was breaded fish, and leftovers of sprouts and guanciale, creamed spinach and some grains from a pack. And the leftover maple syrup chicken, warmed in the air fryer.

Lovely mix of flavours, which seemed to work.

I watch an art documentary on Mannerism, the movement between the peace and balance of the Renaissance and the blood and cruelty of the Baroque. It is presented by our old friend, Waldemar Januszczak, who could make the phone book interesting. If they still made phone books.

In the garden, still no spawn, cowslips, or pasqueflowers in bloom yet. But close. And the male frogs are still waiting for their lady frog friends to come by.

Supper is, for me, jam on the slightly garlic bread I made. It was interesting, but I liked it.

And then there was football. And talking about football.

Maybe there is too much talking about football, talking about football all too seriously. I switch it off and so watch the Prem game on TV with Scully.

But that doesn't engage, so I go to bed before half time with Brentford leading Wolves 1-0. So miss the three later goals leading to an exciting 2-2 draw.

But by then I was asleep. Fast asleep.

Sunday 15th March 2026

Day two of the weekend. Though every day is a weekend now, of course.

Another bright start with the promise of cloud and rain later.

And after the only coffee of the day, its on with the shorts and off to the gym for some early morning phys.

Papers are full of possible fuel shortages, so we fill the car up just to be sure, and do this on the way to the gym. Hopefully the madness of the Iran war might die down soon. as the Orange One seems to have so little international support. Coming a few days after saying he needed no support.

Anyway.

Peddle. Peddle. Peddle.

And my earphone go crazy, turning the volume up and down, activating voice commands, fast forwarding the podcast.

I have to give up and just pull up a new city to ride round, and there's a new one to enjoy riding round Manhattan.

Time dragged.

We were done by ten to eight, and back home for eight and the start of Radcliffe and Maconie.

We were to have a quieter day, so we listened to the radio for a couple of hours. Jools then went to sow seeds for some summer colour, and I fired the mower up to get rid of some of the lusher grass caused by seeds falling from the feeders.

That took all of ten minutes, and it looked a tad neater.

I looked to the small pond, and see two frogs sticking their heads out, probably males on the lookout for lady frogs. We have no spawn yet, so I take a shot with the phone.

And then it is lunchtime, so thoughts turn to food.

We are low on fresh supplies, so I defrost some ragu, but to make it a meal, I find a recipe for quick Italian bread online. It required adding honey to the water/yeast mix. We didn't have any, so I made do with black treacle, which will give it colour!

Anyway, the bread is all risen and baked for half one, the pasta cooked, mixed with the ragu, and using some of the pasta water, ensures that the ragu sticks to the pasta for a really splendid meal.

We done in time for football, and with the reputation of the Premier League taking a bashing in Europe midweek, two dreadful games on Sunday didn't help things, But Spurs did somehow score an equaliser against Liverpool in injury time to break their losing streak. Though they haven't won a game in 2026 yet.

A Hard Day's Night (1964)

The Beatles redefined what it was to be (in) a band. And they also redefined what an album was.

Bands did't write their own songs, not until the Beatles did, and from now on, all tracks on all the albums were written by one, two or more of The Fab Four. Albus too used to have one or two singles, and the rest filler. Until The Beatles came along.

Even as Beatlemania swept across Britain and around the rest of the world, no one knew how long the ride would last. A two year career is as good as many acts of the time had, so would The Beatles be any different?

As stated in previous posts, most British pop acts would make a film after a year or so of hits, usually with a young photogenic American actress for the international sales, and this is where real money could be made.

The Beatles were approached many times with proposals for a film, but went with Richard Lester. The distributor elected to go with black and white film, something that gives the film a timeless quality.

Ampification of the time was very basic. A simple amp of a few watts was OK for rehersal rooms of the back room of a pub, but in a theatre or cinema where there would be 80% screaming young ladies, The Beatles couldn't hear themselves play, let alone the audience. The only place other than fairs where music could be heard loud was in a cinema. So for many fans, the first time they heard The Beatles loud was in the cinema when they went to see this film.

Coupled with images of the band as large as the side of a house, this was heady stuff.

And on top of this, The Beatles were a gang. A gang the girls wanted to flirt with, and a gang the boys wanted to be a part of, or have something similar. Their easy going interactions with each other, and their humour, quick wits could not be acted, it was real. And this came over loudly and on the silver screens up and down the country.

The album that tied in with the film had the first side featuring music from the film, and new songs on the reverse. All tracks were written by the band themselves, and just Lennon and McCartney. Geoege Harrison also played a 12 string Rickenbacker 360/12, an instrument that would influence popular music well into the next decade. Most heard it on this album first.

Side 1

1. "A Hard Day's Night"
2. "I Should Have Known Better"
3. "If I Fell"
4. "I'm Happy Just to Dance with You"
5. "And I Love Her"
6. "Tell Me Why"
7. "Can't Buy Me Love"

Side 2

1. "Any Time at All"
2. "I'll Cry Instead"
3. "Things We Said Today"
4. "When I Get Home"
5. "You Can't Do That"
6. "I'll Be Back"

The album opens with the world's most famous opening chord. And gets better from then on it. "A Hard Day's Night" is so well known now, and yet it is clear that it was a step change from the two albums that came before. Better production, fuller sould, and a band rich in confidence. The track is one of the best moments in popular music, and yet for The Beatles they would get better and better.

Of course, nothing could etter that opening, but the familiar "I Should Have Known Better" follows, and keeps up the quality, if not the pace. Again, great production, fuller sound fills the ears.

"If I Fell" is, perhaps, the only hint on side 1 of a sound that could have come on either of the first two records. Not one of my favourites.

"I'm Happy Just to Dance with You" perks this up a notch. Though as Jools said as we listened, their subject matter for sings is rather limited. An up temp toe-tapper that rattles along and is gone before you know it. All in under two minutes.

"And I Love Her" opens with some wonderful guitar work, and is, in my opinion, a hint of the wonderful ballards to come in the following years. A song that is some 64 years old, and yet could have been recorded last week, its so timeless.

Next up is "Tell Me Why", an ensomble work, with all bar Ringo on vocals, and the way the three of them compliment each other is just literal music to the ears. A joy from start to finish. Another song about a broken heart.

Side one ends with the other worldwide hit of "Can't Buy Me Love". Can I say anything new about this? I don't think so. The song seems to define the 60s in its short running time, you can imagine all of Europe nodding their heads to this as it played on Radio Luxembourg. A great bluesy guitar break, then building to a fine finish! And we're only at the halfway point.

"Any Time at All" opens side two, with more up tempo foot-tapping, with a key change leading into the chorus. John sings, as he does on the majority of tracks on the album, slightly nasal, which is obvious on the verses, but loses it in the brighter chorus.

"I'll Cry Instead" is an amazing track. Sounding American, that might be that 12 string hard at work under George's fingers. This is probably the best "unknown" Beatle song this far to me. You can hear it's echos in music for a decade or more to come. I love it.

"Things We Said Today" sounds like two songs joined together, with downbeat verses, and upbeat chorus, matching the lyric. The upbeat part is one of those Beatle melodies that other writers and bands would kill for. And they just pulled it out of the air, and made it the tenth track on the album.

Can you imagine being in The Beatles? I mean, a song like "When I Get Home" would be a hit single for most other bands, a driving beat, strained vocals by John again, and the second longest track on the record at just over two and a half minutes. I mean, by now they were a music writing and recording machine, the world would never be the same again, and in north Kent, Jagger and Richards were listening.

I honestly thought side two would be very much in the shade of side 1, but a third in a row of bangers, "You Can't Do That" rattless along, and is another stonker. A warning to John's girlfriend about what talking to another boy would bring. A fine song, great harmonies, and so effortless.

Lennon and McCartney close the record with "I'll Be Back", taking things down a notch, and is another song about a broken love. A stripped back sound, vocal lead rather than the beat. What would the next record bring, we wonders.

Saturday 14th March 2026

It am the weekend again. And we're back home.

And being a Saturday, that means up early to go to the gym for seven. Not that its busy then, just to get it out of the way, and back home for a brew and the day of radio shows and football.

For a change, I did 400k/cal at level 14. It wasn't that hard, and the time soon slipped by, but soon I was nearing 40 minutes, but instead of stopping, I carried on for another five minutes and forty five seconds.

Phew.

Back down to the car where the early morning frost had burned off, and it was going to be a glorious day. For most of it.

We go back home, put the kettle on, while I put the seed out as the birds are chirping angrily. Might be lack of food, or about the birds and bees, who knows?

A shower and shave to feel human again, get dressed and then out for a walk to top the steps up.

Not much rain since we came back, and the ground was fairly firm, so I walked over the field to Fleet House, seeing nothing really new in flower. Other than the Alexanders that were reaching higher for the sky,

I had a choice, down past the farm or look at The Dip.

I realised its a couple of years since I visited The Dip, and guessed its fan club was missing it.

Seems like a few delivery drivers have been following their sat navs and trying to get across the valley on it, only to get stuck. One was a truck that took some towing to free. Anyway, a nice clear sign now warning people.

Seems that not even the farmer uses it much now, as the mud had turned green with grass and other plants. I walk to the top of the slope and take some shots.

I turn round to Fleet House, then along Collingwood so to check on the Coltsfoot, before reaching Station Road, turning left and left so back to home.

Jools had been working in the garden all morning, clearing the upper bed and annoying the two frogs waiting for love there.

No cooking for me today: pork pie and pickles for lunch, just enough to take the edge of hunger before the footy began.

Outside Spring gave way to winter. Dark clouds swept over and darkened. Suddenly, hail began to fall, heavily and getting worse.

Jools was caught out putting her tools away, and was like an eskimo caught in a blizzard.

In half an hour, hail turned to sleet, eased, and the clouds parted once again, and we got some late afternoon sunshine.

Southampton won at Coventry on the telly at half twelve, then on the radio following Norwich, who won again, beating Preston 2-0, thus winning nine from the last eleven games.

And ended the day in the top half of the table (just)closer to the play offs than the relegation places.

Arsenal beat Everton 2-0. So ended the day.

Friday 13th March 2026

Six years ago this very day, I drove back from North Wales along strangely quiet motorways back home. On the radio after numerous footballers had come down ill, the whole season had been suspended until into April.

It took Johnson ten more days to lockdown, whereas Ireland locked down before St Patrick's Day, so Johnson ensured thousands of extra deaths in those early days.

Reading my words now, it seems like something from a movie, but I already guessed that Johnson would be two steps behind the virus and evidence.

And so it proved.

And yet he is not in prison for manslaughter for the tens of thousands he killed though his dillying and dallying.

But Friday.

Friday was bright, but cold.

Jools went to yoga, and so I stayed in bed for a while, then did the bins and made coffee.

When Jools went to her craft morning, I promised I would vacuum, and so I did.

Eventually.

Mulder was a poor boy, so we booked him in at the vets, only for his senses triggered something was afoot, and he vanished. Though we did take him later and nothing serious was found.

We skipped lunch, and instead Jen was coming for an early dinner, which was spatchcock chicken with maple syrup, roast potatoes, creamed spinach, and sprouts with guanciale.

Not as strenuous as cooking a roast, as the chicken only took and hour, but was incredible, and juicy.

The potatoes were perfect. Of course.

And all together it was rather good.

Jen arrived just as I was dishing up, accepting a glass of wine before we sat down to eat.

Then there was the quiz, which I failed on, so the day was rounded off by football: Hollywood FC v Swansea, and being a tired boy, I went to bed at half time.

Pooped.