Monday 27th July

We are staying in a 16th century former water mill. Most of the ground floor is now a tack room for the riding school, but most of the gubbins is still in, among the saddles and balnkets.

We have a room and bathroom off the tack room, is is basic, but fine.

But there are flies everywhere, probabl from the horse egss that twenty or so horses produce daily.

In some ways, I'll be glad to leave.

But the host is great, the food is good and half litre of vin de table is €5.

Day eight of the road trip, though not much travel today, as have a day with nothing planned.

We lay in bed until gone seven, then up for a shower and get dressed, before crossing the courtyard to the main building for breakfast.

Breakfast was bread and preserves, and what could be best described as builder's coffee. Strong enough to stand your spoon up in!

At ten we went out, taking the paved lane to the main road, then west to see where it would take us: maybe to a wood which we could explore or take things easy and read in.

We drove for about half an hour until we came to the banks of the Loire. Sadly, the bridge was closed for repairs, but on the walk to it I saw and snapped several familiar wild flowers, and on the river bank saw and tried to snap White-legged and Blue-tailed damsels.

We walked back up the lane, in what was now quite heavy rain.

Yes, you heard that right, so heavy we took shelter halfway up the lane.

A little further along was a larger town, with an open bridge over the river.

Beside the river was a restaurant, which, after a search online was Michelin, and courses cost over €300.

We drove on.

On the way back to the farmhouse we stopped off at a supermarket and bought supplies. Chocolate covered waffles only came in packs of eight, so I guess that was four each.

Finally we saw the tower of an interesting church, D'Anzy-le-Duc, so stopped of.

And in doing so came across one of the most amazing Burgundian Romanesque churches in France. I only had my mobile, but the shots came out fine I believe.

We lazed around the mill, eat lunch, read some and watch wildlife in the mill pond. I saw four kingfishers, and Jools saw a grass snake swimming.

We ate on the terrace, sipping cheap wine poured from a jug, and ate creamy chicken and garlictomatoes, while abovw,swallows and swifts wheeled and clicked for our entertainment, and in the distance a Turtle dove purred.

Sunday 26th July 2026

Time to move on.

Again.

Seventh day of the road trip, so we load the car before breakfast, then into the bar for coffee and baguette with preserves.

The bar is full, and alive with conversation.

One last look in our room, and pack the remaining stuff, get in and set course back to the motorway.

I had noticed signs for a town on the way back south, calling Beaune, the "city of wine".

I'll be the judge of that, but as we had until four when we had to be at the next place, a detour there, a wander round, buy wine, have lunch, should do the trick.

It was a nice seventeen degrees when we left, but the temperatures soon rose into the low then mid twenties.

Traffic was heavy too, but we had all day, so cruised again at seventy, over the rolling countryside that looked lowland, but at times climbed to 1,600 feet.

We turned off towards Beaune, a series of roundabouts surrounded by modern buildings.

Into the centre and we were bouncing down cobbled streets, with all on street parking taken. Jools sees a sign for a garage, we go there, and nab a space. And it was just a ten minute walk from the centre.

Another ancient walled town, all narrow lanes, streets, timber-framed houses, and a cathedral. Though we didn't go it being Sunday.

We had a coffee, then checked out one dozens of wine shops. Burgundy is one of the world's great wines, but what I know won't fit on the back of a matchbox. I check online to see that 2022 was a great vintage, so bought a bottle for £28, and three people wrapped it, put it in a cardboard tube, then in a bag.

At midday we took seats on the street at a nice looking restaurant. We both have beuf bourguignon.

It came with noodles and a rich red wine sauce, and was delicious.

We had agreed not to have a dessert, but my mouth said crème brûlée.

And it was delicious.

Back to the car, as the town was filling up with people of one of them Viking river cruises, all following someone with an umbrella or something.

Back to the car, paid €6.00, and left. Out along cobbled alleys, then out into the suburbs, over roundabout after roundabout until we reached the motorway, and turned back south.

Nothing much exciting happened until we turned off heading west.

Along 45km of dual carriageway, then off that into the rolling farmland. Down ever narrower lanes, until we had to turn down an unpaved lane.

The track was very rough and steep downhill. The car's sat nav showed us to be well of any roads, but Google Maps showed the track. I was worried about getting another puncture like I did in Spain two years back.

That ended up at a ford, with no way of knowing how deep it was, we tried to go round, but the sat nav brought us back to the same spot.

Jools walked over to see how deep it was, then I drove over quickly, and arrived the other side safe and sound.

A mile further along was the mill, which is mainly a horseriding centre, and does B&B as a sideline.

Our host speaks no English, we only fractured French, but we made ourselves understood, and was shown to our room, through the tack room.

Dinner of cold cuts and cheese is for eight. I sat for an hour watching the river drift by, and dragons and damsels floating by in breathless air.

Saturday 25th July 2026

It was hotter than hell last night, but by Morning it was fresh and cool.

And as we slept poorly in the wee small hours, we laid abed until half seven, which gave us half an hour to get up and be ready for breakfast at eight.

We made it at ten past, and dined well on fresh bread, salted fresh butter and local preserves. And fruit. And yogurt. And fresh coffee.

So, what to do with the day?

We had visited Essoyes the day before, which is what caught my eye when looking for a place to stay.

We had noticed a sign pointing to Parc naturel régional de la Forêt d’Orient, so we went there.

An easy half hour drive though sleepy villages, then into rolling farmland with acres of sunflowers going to seed, and patches of woodland, that soon merged into the national park

We found the "house of the park", and found a woodland walk which wound its way through beech woodland for about a kilometre. Not much saw, but we saw and heard Middle Spotted woodpeckers, Nuthatches and Marsh tits, and hear many more species beside.

At a woodland pool, a sign advised us to point our cameras towards the water.

I obeyed, and was rewarded in seeing dozens of frogs and toads, all covered in duckweed. We stayed for twenty minutes trying to spot them.

We drove on to a second woodland walk, but falled trees made it tricky to follow, and i gave up after a while, and instead chased damselflies, snapping on old female.

A short drive further on was a lake, where a beach had been created, so we bought and ate ice creams while we watched folks frolic in the water, though a Hummingbird hawk moth stole our attention.

We drove slowly back to the hotel through more sleepy villages and farms, past reservoirs held back by levees, then down into Bar.

We went to the supermarket over the road for supplies to see us through the day, then back to the room for the final race stage of Le Tour.

Two and a half hours passed as the riders climbed mountain after mountain, and I struggled to stay awake as I watched.

To escape the heat and humidity of the room, we went to the bar below to drink ice cold beers and watch the world go by, and say bonsoir to all who came to drink too.

Friday 24th July 2026

Due to a cock up, we had to travel 120 miles back north for our next hotel.

But it would mean the chance to visit Troyes and its cathedral.

We dozed until half seven, then both had showers before getting dressed and going down for breakfast.

The workers who stay at the hotel had long gone, so it was just us and the cyclists who were eating at eight to half past.

Although the choice was limited, and the state of the bacon would make any Dane angry, I had some fruit, bread and lots of coffee.

And then load the car, check it over one last time. Hand the keys in at reception, climb in the car and drive to the end of the road, then onwards to the motorway, turning north towards Troyes, Paris and Lille.

It was a very quiet morning on the roads, so was an enjoyable cruise at seventy over the high ground, past where we were to spend the next two nights and into Troyes.

Again.

We parked again at the Cathedral parking house, though this time cross the river, and above the roofs I could see the bell tower of the cathedral.

There she is.

It was half eleven by the time we entered, and all was going well until quarter to twelve when we were told we had to vacate the Sanctuary as Mass was about to be held at middy.

I rush a few shots at what look to be the oldest glass, I guess being 13th century, and we leave the Nave as the bell stuck twelve.

Jools wasn't feeling to sharp, so lunch was out, so we walked back to the car and drive back south to where our next hotel was.

We paid the two Euro fee, leave the garage, and on the surface we find it was just a thirty minute drive to Bar-Sur-Seine, where our hotel was next to the railway station.

Be still my beating heart.

The plan was to go to the next services for a drink, a bite to eat and fill up, only to find half of Europe beat us to it, and the place was rammed.

We tried to fill up, but the guy at the pumps took some fifteen minutes to work out how to get fuel out. So, once he left, we got a pump and was soon full of motion lotion and fighting our way through the abandoned cars back to the motorway.

Twelve miles further on, we turn off, and drive down a wooded valley to the village.

We found the hotel, though couldn't check in until three.

So we drive to Essoyes, where Pierre-Auguste Renoir lived and worked, as he loved the light.

Village after village was full of Champagne warehouses, and the hillsides full of green laden vines.

By the river in Essoyes, we find a place to park, and due to the heat walk a small circle either side of the river, then take a seat at the restaurant at a table under a parasol.

We order lunch, including a bottle of the local champagne, as why not?

And it was a dry crisp brew, and I savoured every last drop with rare steak and some local cheeses for dessert.

We drove to our hotel in the village of Bar.

Bar-sur-Seine. That is.

Checked in and went to our room, and after ten minutes of shouting at the TV, managed to find the on switch so I could watch the last 100km of Le Tour, as the riders battled up Alpe d'Huez.

It was amazing stuff. And being in France kinda made it better.

Kinda.

We ate in the hotel, a bloody burger each, and me a huge glass of Leffe Ruby, which was very good indeed.

I took part in the quiz, but jumped in too quick and was very wrong indeed.

And that was that, the 5th day of the road trip.

Thursday 23rd July 2026

Dateline: Chalon-sur-Saône.

A few weeks back we chose a whole series of hotels, with dates back to back to take us through to the eclipse, an a route so that we would have two or three hours each day to travel.

As I aid yesterday, that failed as we got this and the next hotel the wrong way round, so on Friday morning we head back north for 90 miles for our next stay, just south of Troyes.

But for Wednesday and Thursday, we will be in Burgundy.

I know the Duke of Burgundy. Or one of them. Several of them.

We woke up at seven in our "mean" hotel room. We got up, washed and dressed, then went down for breakfast. Al this stretched the time to quarter to nine.

Somehow.

For the day we thought we would explore the town of Chalon-sur-Saône, so set course for the city centre, and went to find a parking garage.

There were parking garages at several locations, but the signs vanished as you drew close, until we stumbled on the entrance for Le Hotel de Ville, through an arch, round two 90 degree bends and down a steep slope.

Made it.

Up in the lift to the level below ground level, that last level you have to climb the steps, not the first time this trip we have found this.

And out into the main square, where behind us was the impressive frontage of the Catholic church.

I programmed Maps for the cathedral, and we set off down the mediaeval alleyways, where cafes, bars and restaurants were setting up for the day.

We would not go short for ice cream, it seemed.

A ten minute walk and we came to the square with the cathedral rising on the other side, and to my left, an oompah trio struck up an impossibly French tune.

I would post the video I took, but I double hit the start button so have 0.5 of a second.

Shame.

Inside the cathedral it was cool and calm. Other than the major renovation work going on, but there was enough to see that wasn't off limits.

The cathedral cat come to say "bonjour", and we rubbed his chin.

I took shots, then we left.

It seems there was an arts festival on, with street theatre on almost every street and certainly in every square. That explained why folks were carrying folding chairs, and the oompah band.

It was going to get hot. And crowded.

Two of our less favourite things.

In the middle of the river, there is an island, all huge civic buildings and a street of more bars, brasseries and restaurants, just about to open.

We walked back down the street, bought cans of cold drink and walked back over the bridge, where there was double the amount of people, and more arriving.

We decided to leave after visiting the Catholic church. I went in, took shots, and was back out in ten minutes.

Shall we?

We shall.

Down the steps and into the lift, we paid our €2.40, went back to the car and drove the heck out of Dodge.

The plan was to visit a forest, a 12km drive out along the river, but when we arrived, it was most like a woody park, so we didn't stop.

After half an hour of aimless driving, I checked out the tourist map and saw a vineyard near the village of Boxy, which is how we came to be sitting on the pavement beside a fairly busy road, drinking local beer and enjoying the menu de jour.

On the other side of the road was a tower, wine has to be defended, of course.

Lunch was:

A selection of cold meats and fresh bread.

Duck breast with jus, and vegetables including noyal de brocolis. Broccoli made into a kind of jelly. It was delicious.

Strawberry flan.

It was only €17, and was delcious.

We drove back to the hotel to escape the heat of the afternoon and for me to watch the last 105km of Le Tour, though with commentary in French, which was a bit confusing.

Once that ended, we went to the supermarche for some snacks, then back to the hotel for an ice cold beer.

Monday 20th July 2026

With travel comes the pain of the cat round up.

The cats can't stay home and look after themselves, so this means trapping them one by one, only once the first has been nabbed, its wailings alert the others.

And the closing of doors and windows mean they know there's something up.

We try to act normal, though we do lay in to half five, get up and feed them.

Poppy is the hardest, so has to be first, when she decides to come in for breakfast.

Which she does at half seven. So while she eats, we close the doors and windows, then try to coral her upstairs to the bathroom as all the doors up there are closed too.

She is spooked, and dives in the small bedroom, so we close the door and will but her in the box later.

Cleo was asleep on the bed, so she is taken to the bathroom and the door closed. Neither of them meow, so Mulder and Scully are unaware.

At eight we begin the boxing: Mulder first, then Scully. They are both 16, so not as quick as they used to be, but they do wriggle and their claws scratch.

Poppy is hiding under the bed, and stays out of reach. So we have to give her the chance of escape to entice her out before the escape route is closed. She gives in.

Cleo seemed to know what was coming, and gave herself up.

That all done, the last of the packing was done, so that 95% of the jobs done.

Jools took the cats to the cattery, and I washed up and was pretty much all ready when se came back after an incident free trip, other than the tub of kitty kibbles was spilt in the car.

That was cleared up. We have a brew and breakfast, before loading the car.

It was ten, and so was only a fifteen minute run to The Tunnel, we checked in, got in line to go round the one way system to the two immigration posts, through those and then just ten minutes in the waiting area before we were allowed round to drive onto the train.

The Tunnel is functional, no romance of travel. As each carriage is filled with three or four cars, the doors behind are closed until the train is loaded. There's an announcement in three languages, and the train moved off.

Thirty five minutes we pull into Calais, where less than five minutes after stopping, we drive off and straight onto the motorway heading south.

It is warm, sunny intervals, but not hot. Just nice for driving.

We had a two mile drive to Armiens, so cruised down to the toll plaza at Boulogne, then just head south on traffic with just light traffic.

Our hotel is on the edge of the city, in a newly built area, so around it is a building site. But we found it OK, parked so checked in.

Phew.

After a lay down, we go back to the ground floor and look for the bar.

The bar is just another counter along from reception, but they have both draught and bottles.

I have a bottle of the dark, and very malty and full of sediment it is, and very tasty.

So that fired up our appetite, so we walk over to the bistro.

There is only a few choices, but the lamb and goat burger sounded interesting. Less so when it arrived, as the goat part was a wedge of cheese, but it was good.

There was even time for some cheese and a glass of vin rouge to round the meal off.

Back in the room, weariness overcame me, and even with the time difference, we were in bed before nine.

Wednesday 22nd July 2026

Time to head further south.

I suppose, at this moment, I should point out we have messed up the hotels, and so face a long leg on Tuesday, then double back 90 minutes on Friday, before leapfrogging further south on Sunday.

Mistakes happen, I guess.

So, we sleep in to nearly half six, get dressed and go down for breakfast, which was slightly disappointing again, though the coffee pretty good.

Back to the room to pack, the load the car in two runs, so that by quarter to eight, we were ready to go.

Also, the ladies in the mobile phone shop sold us a roaming pay as you go cim that was only suitable for the UK, so that in less than a day, apparently, we had burned through £50 worth of data.

Mainly on Maps and Merlin.

This we were to discover through the day when neither of our phones would make or receive calls, or access the internet and Maps, which was pretty important.

We made our way through the city, and back onto the motorway, turning south. It was cool and cloudy, though it would get warmer and sunnier later, and temperatures would reach 31.

Not much to report really. Once through the tolls, the traffic was light, so we made our way 100 miles east to Reims, then turn south through the vine-laden wine region of Champagne. I saw the hill from which, at dusk some twenty months ago, I looked upon the Grande Cru grapes, now we sped past.

We were going this way, rather than vial the Paris ringroad because of the Paris ringroad, in decades past, this would be jammed with traffic at all hours, so we thought going east and then south would be quieter, and meant we could call in at Troyes for lunch and a wander, maybe look round the cathedral.

Driving into a new city is a worrying time, though Troyes is a small city, and at eleven or just gone, it was quiet enough.

We found the parking house near the cathedral, and went down and down until we found a space that others had left enough room either side to get the car into. It felt like we were halfway to the centre of the earth.

Up in the lift, and out into the bright sunshine, with the cathedral towering above us.

We walk round it, each side having grand doors, but all locked, until we came to the west end, a small wicket door was open.

Our excuse for this was the at the church seemed almost square, so hard to judge which side was which.

Inside it was fairly plain, with pews though, which is always nice.

A few memorials on the walls, though there were many alabaster panels of saints, some which were painted.

I photographed the glass with the big lens, though most panels were not as old as appeared, though looked spectacular.

In half an hour I was done, it was midday and thoughts turned to lunch.

The city is a maze of mediaeval lanes, alleyways, all lined with timber-framed houses, some alleys so narrow that the roofs of buildings either side toughed to make a tunnel.

There were dozens of places offering lunch, we chose one named after St Jean, though they didn't do BBQ.

Too soon?

We choose one and order a sharing charcuterie board, followed by a main course. I had a salad.

And while we ate and drank we watched the world go by, mainly American tourists.

It really was most splendid.

And this news just in:

The large churchy building beside the car park called "Cathedral", is not the actual cathedral.

Which means, as I screwed up the hotel bookings, we can go back to the city on Friday.

But back to Wednesday.

We left the city and headed south, the motorway now busier, and climbing to over 1400 feet. The cool morning had been replaced with a hot and humid afternoon, which peaked in early evening at 32 degrees.

We cruised at 70 for the most part, and enjoyed the drive, even as the traffic grew heavier.

We turned off and into our next stop, the city of Chalon-sur-Saône.

Our hotel was on the main road into the city, another Ibis, but this an older building, all tired inside.

We checked in and were given a small room, though as everything we needed, except space. Obviously.

For the evening, we drove over the intersection to a BBQ chain place, which sounded like it would be good, but wasn't. Even the 1664 was almost flat.

At least it was only a two minute drive back to the hotel, where we would stare at the ceiling until we grew tired.

Tuesday 21st July 2026

Amiens, France.

We woke after close to ten hours sleep.

Ten.

Hours.

Life seemed better. And there was breakfast that was going to be prepared for us, with no washing up afterwards.

That's living alright.

Outside it looked warm already. Time would tell.

We went down for breakfast, there was fruit, bready stuff, croissants, coffee, Nutella. All the major food groups.

We filled our boots, by which time it was just after eight. And the cathedral opened at half seven.

We walked outside to the car, and in the shade of the hotel it was lovely and cool, but wouldn't stay that way for long.

We programmed a parking house nearby, I fired up the horses in the car, and we lurched off towards the city centre.

For a Monday morning, traffic was light, so we cruised carefully into the centre, turning down a side road, then down the ramp to the underground parking house.

Whether we would find our way back again after our visit and lunch would be another matter.

We had seen the cathedral, the largest by volume in France, apparently., on the way into the centre. To say it towered over the surrounding area would be something of an understatement.

But once we parked, walked up the the street level, and at the next junction we looked to the left and there was the roof of the cathedral.

We'd go that way.

Five minutes later, after walking down an alley paved with white marble, we came to the south-west corner of the church.

Entrance by the south door, a sign seemed to be suggesting.

We walked along the southside, and there was an open door. We went in.

Inside was a space at least as large as St Paul's in London, but untouched by puritans or time, A Baroque pulpit, covered in gold leaf caught the eye.

I took a shot, and a guy came over to engage me in conversation. As my French is below middle school standard, and his English was little better, but he seemed to be suggesting that I was taking my photos wrong.

I said thanks, tried to explain the hand-held night-shooting mode, but went over his head.

He came back, and showed me a video of his work. Not sure if he was trying to get me to employ him to take shots.

I explained I had some 50,000 pictures of churches, and I really did know what what I was doing.

When he came back a third time, I guess I became rude. As ride as you can be in fractured Franglais.

He walked off.

Phew.

I went round snapping the scenes, chapels and details, then switched to the big lens for more details and the stained glass windows.

Meanwhile, at nine, Mass began, and the cathedral was filled with the harmonised voices of the choir, then the benediction read out.

Amen.

Amiens, and the Valley of the Somme, was the centre of the First World War battle of the same name, so the cathedral has memorials to nations and battalions that sacrificed themselves in the defence of the city and area.

There is little evidence of the war now, other than the occasional memorial, the city is rebuilt and vibrant.

We walked back outside, into the bright sunshine, and temperatures were some ten degrees higher than went we entered.

Next on the list were the "floating gardens" of Les Hortillonnages. Of which we had no idea what they were, but was high on the top rated attractions in the city.

We walked down from the butte that the cathedral straddles, and came across a small stream, running in the lea of the cathedral. On the other was a row of houses with shops in their ground floors, and behind all had identical metal spiral staircases.

The road in front was filled with fast food joints, discotheques, and other shops, all closed at half eleven, though some stayed open until 05:00.

On the left a road opened up, and there over the main road was the Somme river, also lined with restaurants, bars, and shops. The maps app said to carry on, so we did.

We crossed the river beside another main road, then the way was down a steep curving road to the riverbanks. On the side was a brasserie, where we called in for a cold drink. And then a beer.

We went back out and down to the riverbank, walking along hoping to see an entrance. We did find it, but turns out the public part doesn't open until one, and it was too hot to wait.

We explored further along, where there was a mixture of houses, summer houses and allotments, all on small islands separated with by ditches or minor stretches of the river.

It was all very nice, and peaceful despite being only a short walk from the city centre. But all private.

We sat and watched the wildlife: dragonflies, damselflies, butterflies and birds, while a couple of boats chugged by.

Thoughts turned to lunch, so we walked back towards the cathedral, stopping for a drink at the same brasserie, then along the river where we took a shaded table at a café, and ordered pork something. Which came with a very thin carrot, some kind of root vegetable (half of) and a sauce.

It was so pleasant sitting and eating watching the world go by, we had dessert and a coffee.

Back to the cathedral to take shots of the statues and triple doors at the west end, by which time it was hot indeed, so we made our way back to the parking garage, paid the fee and drove back to street level.

Our journey back to the hotel wasn't helped by a failure of the net, and the road the hotel is on is so new the car's sat nav didn't have it listed. However, nearby was Rue de Christ, which we remembered the name of, so programmed that in, which got us withing a mile of the hotel, at which point the internet came back and we found our way back.

Before going to the room, we went over the road to the corner store to buy beer, mile, sandwiches and crips, so we would not go down to eat.

And finally up the the air conditioned coolness of the room, where i cracked open the family sized bottle of Le Chouffe as I reviewed my shots from the day.

Sunday 19th July 2026

And so to our last full day in England for about a month.

Being a Sunday that meant phys, of course. But it would have been easy not to do it, but we did.

Jools slept through the alarm, as did I, of course, so we rose at six, then did our stuff and drank coffee before leaving the house at five to seven.

As there was a swimming gala on, again, the pool was closed, so there was just three cars in the car park. We joined them, went in and up the stairs to the gym and di our session.

Another hot and humid session, and another thirty five minutes done.

As we will be in either France or Spain the next few weeks, we decided to go to Chaplin's for breakfast, so down Castle Hill and the Castle into town, parking behind the church, and being at their door as it opened at eight.

We had the usual, mine with added fried bread.

It was too much, really, but we wouldn't eat again until the evening.

Back home along Townwall Street and up Jubilee Way, both of which had no traffic at all, though a P&O ferry was just disgorging traffic, so we powered up the hill just in time.

We both have showers, then the last washing down so that we have lots of clothes for the trip. We sit and listen to Huey on the radio, until it was midday and time for Le Tour.

The Tour would reach the Alps by the end of the day, until then there was a punishing course of 180km up and down, ever-increasingly steeper hills.

On the sharp bend before the final climb, Jonas Vingegaard misjudged the corner, hit a kerb and went down on his shoulder breaking his collarbone. Just as his team were mustering for an assault on the hill and launching Jonas to possibly win.

We'll never know.

Supper was Caprese and salad, as we try to use up all the fresh food in the fridge.

And then to the World Cup Final: Spain v Argentina, which started out well, then Argentina retreated into their back third and encouraged Spain to try to score.

Again the referee was over-lenient, and failed to book Argentine players for fouls.

Fernández was sent off for a second yellow, which should have been a red in its own right, and then it was a matter of whether Spain could score.

It went to extra time, and in the first minute of the second period, Ferran Torres volleyed in to win the game and cup.

At the end, Argentine players threw punches as Spain celebrated.

Best team won.

Saturday 18th July 2026

We have reached the weekend.

A weekend that will bring the 103rd and 104th and final games of the 2026 World Cup, England to play France, though not in the final.

So it goes.

And its the last two days at home before our grand European road trip, which will begin at about half ten Monday morning, and I hope to post blogs each day as we go.

I hope.

I slept in until six, when the alarm brought me from having lunch at the chicken factory where I was on some sort of course. A reminder that I left the chicken factory in September 1990, and due to an accident hadn't worked there after 18th June, so some 36 years ago.

We feed the cats, have coffee, then drive to the sports centre after checking the traffic for jams leading to the port.

All was clear.

Not many at the gym, so we get our bikes, and begin the session.

Thirty five minutes later we were done, drive to Tesco for a few supplies to last the weekend, and back home.

Brews.

Whilst sitting on the patio with Scully, the sun already warm, but not too warm. Just pleasant.

I had received a request if I could show a chap the Violet helleborines at Barham?

As they were not open on Monday, I agreed as I could get my shots too of the penultimate Kent species, so arranged to meet Jonathon at nine under the old railway bridge.

We both arrived at the same time, he got in our car and I drove us both to the parking area, and we chatted orchids as we drove.

Up the usual path beside the wood. The air still, and light green-filtered through the thick beech canopy.

It is a magical place, still, and a million miles and a hundred years from the modern world or motorways and tik tok.

We are met by a local lady walking her two dogs. She said she only saw cyclists and orchidists in the wood. I confirmed we were the latter as we had no bikes, but had cameras!

She was happy that there was unseen nature here on her doorstep, though the two hounds were impatient to get going again.

We walked up the down, along the track further, until we came to the arrow I had made last week with two branches, we went into the wood, and a few yards away from one trunk were three spikes, the one partially open now fully out.

Although one spike had most of its flowers upside down, as the spike was so densely populated that the flowers were unable to rotate, so appeared upside down.

I thought I could remember where the largest of the clumps were, but no matter how hard I looked, walking back and forth, I couldn't find them. So having found two clumps, we decided that we were happy with that, and walked back to the car.

On the way back to the bridge, we stop off so I could show him the Yellow birdsnests.

I explained that a Ghost orchid would little different from a Yellow birdsnest, and with a first scan of your eyes, the small yellow spikes were almost invisible.

I dropped him off, then drove home in the thick port traffic, turning off and going through Coldred and both East and West Langdon before arriving home at half eleven.

Time for a brew before it was time to sit down and watch the latest, 13th, stage of Le Tour, as they peddle closer and closer to The Alps.

The stage took most of the afternoon to play out, with the expected result of Tadej Pogačar breaking away and winning again.

We had supper, then listened to the funk and soul show, while I pondered whether to sit up and watch the England v France 3rd play play off.

In the end I decide not to, so went to bed at half eight, so slept through the game, the result of which I wouldn't find out until the morning.

Friday 17th July 2026

In our memories, summers were long, golden, and filled with singing birds and fluttering butterflies.

Do those days exist now?

Bird song, sadly, as scarce now. Even the dawn chorus is muted, except in spring when the birds have other thigs on their minds.

Spring is poor in east Kent for butterflies, but come summer and those season species emerge, as well as second broods of others, the air can still be filled with flutterbies.

The week has reached Friday, and that means bins, and yoga for Jools, and a day off phys for me.

And maybe a lay in!

With no football to watch the evening before, and asleep before nine, I heard Jools get up at five, but nodded off again until nearly six. I make that nine hours, which was pretty good for high summer.

If that is what this is.

So, I get up, get dressed and find a coffee waiting for me. After drinking that, I put out the two bins and consider my day.

I do some stuff in the garden. I water the pot plants and tomatoes, though the latter will ripen when we're away and will wither before then as there'll be no one to water them.

I fill up the wildlife pond, though see no frogs or newts.

After breakfast, as it was the first day of the "Big Butterfly Count", I spent fifteen minutes counting, and see some 22 Gatekeepers, 5 Common Blues, 5 Large whites and a Wall brown.

Not bad.

I sit and look at our garden, butterflies, bees and beetles all busy collecting nectar and spreading pollen. Mulder and Scully settle down at my feet to snooze.

Jools had gone to her knit and natter group, I thought of going to Tesco for the few things we had forgotten, but thought to leave it to Saturday morning.

Le Tour began at midday. The prologue, then the depart and then the race.

Le Tour is heading east now towards the final week and The Alps, so this was the last semi-flat stage for a while, and featured a breakaway for nearly forty riders. The countryside, villages and towns slid by. I tried to stay awake.

I come second in the music quiz, one of only six to guess the correct answer. Now, will I be able to take part from that France next week? We shall see.

And after supper, early to bed at half eight for some much-needed sleep.

It was nearly dark by nine.

Thursday 16th July 2026

The weeks still rattle by, and make it even more manic, we are going away in four days.

Although most preparations are done, there will be the great cat round up on Monday morning before we can load up the car and leave.

It would be easy to let phys slip this week, what with it being so hot and humid. I feel bad enough not doing a full forty minutes, doing just thirty five these days.

But upon our return, we shall get back on the straight and narrow, and do even more than before.

And this day came after England's exit from the World Cup. As always with England, the media and fans, expectations were high, too high to be met. And in the final quarter on Wednesday, England were just outplayed and too passive.

But the sun rose still Thursday morning, and life is still good.

I did not want to get up at five to go to the gym, but did. Cats were fed, coffee made, and we were five minutes late leaving the house, so that the centre was open when we arrived. We went up to the gym and got to work on the bikes.

The air con in the gym is great, except in the corners, which is where the two bikes are, so it is warm even before you begin to turn the peddles.

We stood outside for ten minutes to cool down, then drove to Tesco for a few things and to fill up the car. Back home for a brew and breakfast.

Time for a shower, shave and change of clothes, before out again, this time to Deal to get some medical supplies for the trip, then at midday go to the chippy for lunch.

We will be away for nearly four weeks, so need stuff to cover all bases, including factor 50 sun block as we'll be at over 2,000m at times, then in Spain which could be hotter than the surface of the sun.

In a break from the usual, I have cod instead of skate, which is what I fancied for a change.

The shop soon filled up, but we had our table in the corner so we could people watch both inside and out.

The town was filling up, as to be expected for a seasidey town in July, so we walk back to the car and drive home. Skipping an ice cream.

Just be coincidence, Le Tour started a few minutes before we got home, so with a fresh brew I sat down to watch, and try to stay awake.

Another lightning quick stage, with a bunch finish and a huge crash in the last 500m.

Phew.

For the evening, we had tickets for a show: Arthur Smith and Phil Nice at the Aster.

It was a pleasant evening for a drive along to coast through Walmer and into Deal. The Just Reproach was full, so we skip a swifter and walk round to the theatre, and after showing our tickets, we go to the bar for a quick drink.

Arthur and Phil were of the generation before the 80s alternative comedy, so started in a review when there wasn't really a Fringe", they then formed a double act, had a couple of TV series where they did spoof travel and history shows, decades ahead of the curve, then split up at the end of the 80s.

The show was a muse on age and growing old. rowing old in an ever changing world, and the difficulties in maintaining friendships. It was pretty good.

But the air con had been switched off, so that by the interval it was like a swamp, so I stood outside and watched the boy-racers tear up and down the short street, impressing the nesting pigeons.

There was a brief Q&A, then all over, we walked back to the car and home.

Time for a night cap, and then to bed.

Thomas Tuchel: what now

Do I think Thomas Tuchel should be replaced?

If the answer is yes, then the next question would be, who would you put in his place?

There is a certain Pep who has no job at the moment, though he may want some time off after his decade at Citeh.

As I have remarked before, its not as though England appoint the same kind of manager. Over the years they have tried just about everything, and the one who worked was the guy promoted from coaching the U21 side.

Thomas Tuchel had a different approach to Southgate, with the expectations that the German's approach would result in England being able to cope with the pressures of leading big games and seeing them out to win.

That did not happen.

I guess my point is that although results have improved, and England in most tournaments get at least to the quarter finals, what they do when they get there ends up with the same results: play well then retreat further and further back.

And furthermore, Tuchel seems to be suggesting that the players didn't follow his game plan. And yet it was Tuchel who made those poorly thought out substitutions, which meant England would really struggle to mount attacks if Argentina levelled in the closing stages.

There is to be a review, and the BBC is reporting that players are unhappy with the negative tactics Tuchel employed. So it is possible that a few months after signing a contract extension, he may be gone.

Or not.

Of Thomas Tuchel and bitter disappointment

Last night, England conceded two goals in the final ten minutes of their game with Angentina, to crash out again at the semi-final stage.

Tuchel was employed to win the 2026 World Cup, and to ensure, in exactly this kind of situation, being a goal up in the latter stages of a game, being abler to close out the result at win.

He failed to do that.

In fact, his England side bottled it even more than those under Southgate. Falling back to defend deeper and deeper.

Like they did against Mexico and Norway.

England hung on in those two games, but to defend half an hour, an Argentine side looking to win back to back cups, was always going to be a tall order.

On those final twenty minutes, Argentina scored twice, hot the post twice, and Pickford saved two headers on the line. It could and should have been a heavier defeat.

In the 35 minutes between England scoring and the end of the game, England enjoyed just 19% possession.

Tuchel's substitutions were defensive players replacing attacking ones, so that when Argentina did level, there wasn't the players on the pitch for England to fight back.

Tuchel had one job: not to repeat Southgate's mistakes. But he did, and more.

Better to live one day as a lion, than a life as a mouse.

Argentina wanted to win from the start, I heard to described as they went into the game prepared for a knife fight, while England saw it as a step to the final. A friendly referee didn't punish repeated fouls on England, so they were emboldened. Breaking up England's play, so it became a battle, one that meant England tired.

But they did score. A fine goal, but then sat on it, invited pressure. Invisted Messi to play by ceeding space and time for him to pick out passes.

And punish.

Harry Kane will be 36 at the next tournament, and he has hinted he would be too old. What will England do without him?

Wednesday 15th July 2026

There are some 28 native Kent orchid species that in most years you can see. If you know where to go and when.

There are orchids for most habitats: down, meadow, dunes, fields, and woods. Many are showy, others less so, but even the tiny Musk has a certain charm. If you get close enough.

But there is one that disappoints almost every time. Doubly so it is found only in at one site in north Kent, and as it has learned to self-pollenate, its flowers rarely ever open.

It is small, straggly, usually covered by ants, and is found now at just one location, in a lay by on a minor A-road between two picturesque villages.

Epipactis phyllanthes, aka The Green-flowered helleborine, aka the Green-flowered disappointment.

And I had not made the trip since 2021, and vowed not to go again.

There are, however, other things of interest in the area: the lavender fields, Dark Green fritillary butterfly, and Lullingstone church perhaps.

And on the way we go go to The Larches for some BLH action, and maybe Yellow birdsnests too.

So, I got the gang together, and all was set for Wednesday morning.

I dropped Jools off in town for her class, then scuttled back home for breakfast and tidy up. Iain arrived at ten past nine, then on route to collect Fran from the station, we picked up Jools.

So by half nine we were heading up Old Folkestone Road to join the A20, thus missing out the port and any possible delays.

Then it was a cruise up through Folkestone and Ashford, through Operation Brock contraflow, before finally turning up Detling Hill, and easing onto Pilgrim's Way, where we stop by the reserve entrance.

The Larches is well known, I guess, but for the first time visitor, the large sign for it is now hidden behind vegetation, so would be difficult.

Then along the path beside the road for five minutes, no real indication that there would be any open space, until you reach a crossing of paths, and in front is the meadow-cum-clearing.

Our first task was to turn left to look for the Yellow birdsnest under the canopy of some large trees, and in deep leaf litter we find three emerging spikes, in no better condition that the ones we found at Barham earlier in the week.

After snapping those, we turn round and walked back to the clearing, taking the side track to the upper gate, and from there I could see an amazing almost yellow BLH spike.

BLH are a variable species, with size, spike density, flower colour and so on differs from plant to plant, but here there are almost green ones all the way through to dark flowered spikes, almost chocolate-coloured.

Fran spots and snaps her first Chalkhill blue of the year, but it flies away when it sees my DSLR, as they always seem to do.

Then walk to the first of the orchids, getting some fine close ups with spikes covered in ants, and some with drunken wasps crawling among the flowers, their heads overed in pollen.

Huge amounts of St John's Wort covered the ground, and elsewhere, Ploughman's spikenard was coming into flower, though plants less vigorous than in previous years.

By the trees, there were many more BLH spikes, including the fine spike with Variegated basal leaves.

Finally, to the other path running along the bottom of the meadow, where there were dozens more spikes of BLH, some chocolate brown, and some green, many between the two.

An amazing visit.

We walk back to the car, then out back onto Detling Hill, turning down towards Maidstone, then back onto the motorway towards London.

We turn off just before it joins the M25, and turn back down the hill, across two roundabout before taking the turning to Eynsford.

Through the village, which is clogged with traffic caused by delivery vehicles, delivering. But out the other side, we pull up at the lay by.

On the left hand side, there were perhaps a dozen small plants, some with malformed spikes, those with normal flowers were closed tightly shut.

We take pictures, then I go to explore the bank to see if the colony had spread. I do find two spikes of a helleborine, but think they were of a BLH. Apparently there were more plants there, but I was away of Jools, Fran and Iain waiting on the road below, so I walk back.

From there it's a short drive to the next lay by, where from the opposite verge you can get a free view of the lavender fields.

The field has several people in, enjoying the scent and sight of the huge field. We take shots then get back in the car and drive to the country park.

Living here, on a bank beside a golf fairway is a large colony of butterflies, Dark green fritillaries, as species I have seen in Northumberland, but not in Kent.

From the café, it is a long walk up the down, through the wood, then along one fairway before crossing it by the tee, then if clear, across the second fairway to the bank.

The clouds of earlier had cleared, and it was now hot, so we sweated our way to the bank, and began to look.

Out target is a large orange butterfly, and should have been obvious, and in good numbers. But we see none. Nor do we see any Marbled whites either, just lots of Meadow browns and Gatekeepers, with a few newly emerged Common blues being very active.

We also come across a damselfly, a Wite-legged damsel, right on top of the down, a mile from the stream far below. We get shots.

We looked for an hour, then with time ebbing away, we walk back to the café, where we buy drinks and sit in the shade.

It was by now three, and the visit to the church was scrubbed, as the gates to the castle were locked. Although as we drove through Eynsford, I saw a sign over the old packhorse bridge and ford pointing the way to it.

I was set for home, however, and we made good time back to the motorway, where we could have turned onto the M25 in either direction, or back down to M20 to home.

We went south.

On the way we dropped Fran off at Faversham, then down the A2 in light traffic to Dover and home.

11,000 steps done, and hot and bothered. And hungry.

I cook breaded chicken, lentils, and peas & sweetcorn, rustled up in half an hour.

And then, eyes down for the big game, which kicked off at eight: England v Argentina.

Tuesday 14th July 2026

Tuesday again.

And as usual, it is up with the larks to go to the gym sharpish.

This was made easier as my stupid brain woke me up at three, and did not want to let me go back to sleep.

So I was first up, so test and jab Scully, then feed her and the rest, before filling and boiling the kettle for that first coffee of the day.

Always the best.

Off to the gym, and it was packed, at least waiting to go in as there were parents and kids waiting to get into the pool, they went right to the changing rooms, and we went left and up the stairs.

I get my favourite machine, set up a podcast and began to peddle.

Although it seemed to be cool outside, it was humid enough inside, and soon it was uncomfortable. So I did thirty five minutes again, which I decide was close enough.

Back down to the car, drive home. I sat outside to cool down, and Jools brought me a fresh brew to enjoy in the cool of the morning.

Jools was gone at seven, as the car needed an oil change, so it told us, so she dropped the car off then walked to the centre for her class.

I would stay home and chill, have a shower and shave.

And was human again.

With the wind set in the north-east, clouds remained all day, so was cool and pleasant, which was very nice.

At midday, eyes down for the depart of Le Tour, a monster stage over the Massif Central, with hardly any flat ground all 180 km.

Phew, I worn out watching it, so how they felt in that is another matter.

And then, to the World Cup.

Spain v France, and what should have been a classic, two evenly matched teams.

But was transpired was Spain not letting France getting into their stride, closing down players, and scoring goals.

Scoring goals wins games.

Spain cantered to a 2-0 win, and France lost, on Bastille Day as well.

Monday 13th July 2026

Monday rolls round again.

And as ever, my brain has me awake before five, though I lay back down after checking the time, and fall back to sleep.

A nice quiet morning in which to wake up, drink coffee, before being dropped off in Deal by Jools at half seven, as I had an appointment with the pediatrist.

So, with fifty minutes to kill, Jools dropped me off near to where The Berry used to be, so I could cut across the grass to the promenade, and walk towards the pier, looking for botanical delights to snap.

Most people out at that time are dogwalkers and joggers.

And me.

I am careful when I cross the cycle-lane to check both ways lest be run down or be shouted at by some lycra-clad buffoon.

But nothing exciting happened to recount.

I walked to the castle, past the fishing fleet grounded on the shingle beach before turning inland towards the clinic.

My feet were checked, nails cut and the rest, while I talk about moths to the nurse.

Jools had suggested I might like to catch the bus home rather than wait for her, as she had to take Cleo and Poppy to the vets for their six-monthly check-up.

I said I'd think about it.

But needed a hair cut, as our trip to southern Europe is a week away, and I didn't want to be wearing a bearskin in forty degree heat.

The first barber I came to had a seat free, so I go in, tell him to make it short, and he gets to work with his shears.

Not as meticulous as the one in Dover or Folkestone I go to normally, but the aim was to be shorn, and shorn short.

C/out satis.

I went to Greggs to get something for lunch: a four pack of sausage rolls would do, then wander to the small bus station.

I say bus station, its a double long bus stop, that clearly used to be busier, but now just has services to Dover or Sandwich, and buses to St Maggies leave hourly, or is it two-hourly?

Anyway, it was due to leave at ten.

It pulled in a two minutes to ten, and five of us got on it, costing me three pounds, for which I got a mystery tour round the housing estates of Walmer.

Which was nice.

Back home for a late breakfast and a fresh hot brew, and then time for some light orchiding.

The season is drawing to an end, but with four more species, possibly, to see, we would be heading back to Barham.

First of all, we stop at Hearts Delight Lane, and walk up hoping to see some Broad-leaved helleborines. There used to be dozens here, but we found just one in flower, with several blind spikes in the undergrowth.

But no Yellow birdsnests.

Further along we stop at the dog-walker's wood, and after some searching find about eight Yellow birdsnest spikes, though most were already going brown soon after emerging.

Then to our favourite wood, and the long walk up the path up the down, with gnarled old trees on the left, and majestic beech trees reaching for the sky on the other.

One last push up the steep slope, then began the hunt, using coordinates from previous years after not finding any, I do find three spikes near to where they had been previously.

Further searching revealed three more clumps, the last one with an upright spike with flowers just beginning to open.

We drive back home, getting back at just after one. But what is this? No cycling or football?

Le Tour is on a rest day, and the semi-finals of the World Cup begin on Tuesday.

Outside the wind turned to the north east, clouds rolled in, and it got almost chilly. Doors were closed and thoughts about putting a jumper on.

We had a snack for tea, and to be honest, I was pretty tired. So at eight went for a shower and so went to bed.

It was dark by quarter to nine, and I was asleep soon after.