Monday 17th August 2026

I have looked through my blogs, and I am pretty certain that the last time it rained was on the 11th June.

I mention this as the colour of Kent, England and most of western Europe is burnt brown.

And on Sunday night, actual rain was forecast.

I got up at two to use the bathroom, and as I climbed back into bed, I could hear the large raindrops banging down on the carport roof.

It only last ten minutes, but I am pretty sure that it rained again before dawn. So when we got up, the ground was still damp, but drying out quickly, so I thought I had better take shots to record the fact.

Obviously, its not enough. We need weeks and months of rain, even then it will be too late for many plant species and insects that rely on them.

A long delayed task was to paint the outside sills of the living room and front and side bedrooms.

So, me being a man of action now, I would get all DIYy.

I had to get the fungicide solution, then the masonry paint. But I was getting ahead of myself.

First, the lichen.

Its not that we don't like it, we do. But the dirty sills spoil the house, so I would fix that.

I got a brush, a container for the solution, then got scrubbing, and managed to get as much over me as on the sills.

But after an hours or so, it looked better. So I did the two lower ones again, then got some clean water to get the excess off.

I would paint on the morrow.

Having done some actual work, it turned out that we both didn't feel inclined to do much more. The sun dried out the ground, and you wouldn't have know there'd ever been rain.

There might be more wet stuff later in the week. Maybe thunder too. We shall see.

Jools went to Canterbury, so leaving me behind to do the DIY, then sit in the garden with Mulder and Scully, as the day warmed up, until it warmed up too much to sit outside.

Jools returned at lunchtime, so we had chicken salad and a beer.

Which wasn't very clever. So we had to try to stay awake through the afternoon and into the early evening.

Jools and Jen's plans to go to Oz next year are well advanced, and Jools' good planning getting alternative quotes has already saved them £1500.

My plans for my trip to Perth are at an early stage, but I am dazzled on a daily basis by shots in the West Australia orchid group on Faceache.

For the evening there was football. Welsh football. Cardiff v Wrexham, which ended an entertaining 1-1 draw.

There's lovely.

A bolt out of the blue

So, a brief update as to our future plans for travel.

I say this as when we saw Jen last week, she asked if Jools could do her a favour? Go to Australia with her for six weeks in a motorhome.

This was the literal bolt out of the blue, but then it opened up another possibility for me, as I would stay behind to cat sit, thus save close to two grand in cattery fees, then I could go to the orchid capital of the world: Perth.

I would be going later, at the end of July, and have been planning, roughly some things to do. I have friends who will show me some of the orchid sites, and others I can find out myself, perhaps.

News as I get it.

Before then we are off to Sardinia on another orchid trip with our friends, that's in "April" sometime.

And in February we are also off to Tenerife for a few days where we hope to see their four endemic orchid species.

In a break from the orchids, in October I will be joining a church tour of Northamptonshie with a friend and church expert, John.

Our long planned trips to Mexica and New Zealand get pushed back to 2028.

Sunday 16th August 2026

Every day we get a little bit closer to normal.

We had to scrap phys on Saturday, so there was no doubt we would be going to the gym on Sunday.

As I am still delicious, some bitey thing feasted on me Friday night or on Saturday, so my legs itched again to buggary. As my dear old Dad would say.

We were at the sports centre a minute after seven, and the car park had only a handful of other cars, despite the pool being open.

We went upstairs and did another thirty five minutes, more than enough time to get hot and sweaty.

After the session we came back via the Co-Op in Whitfield as we needed fresh corn.

I had thought I got out two large lamb steaks for lunch, but turns out they were steaks! Ribeyes, and of quite a size. But had also got two punnets of tagine out too, and there was mushrooms as well as the corn.

I seasoned the steak, then went for a shower and shave, so that by one, it was time to start cooking.

Corn boiled first then kept on a simmer on one of the back burners, same with the tagine, before cooking the mushrooms with some garlic and the steak having two and a half minutes each side.

A pleasant change not to have chips or any other potato carbs, and we roadtested the new pink fizz, which was pretty good too.

We really didn't feel like washing up, but did before the afternoon snooze hit. I was watching for Championship football: Watford beat the dirty cheating Saints 2-1, then Burnley and West Ham shared four goals. And both were pretty good games.

The day was also notable for a two hour power cut in the morning, meaning no internet, no calls, and our local 5G transmitter was taken out too.

We had to talk to each other.....

We watch a film in the evening. Normal which looked good on the trailer, and was OK. Lots of bizare deaths and very dark humour.

Saturday 15th August 2026

Sometimes, there is just too much to do.

So, with phys, shopping. a shower, and having to be out before nine. Something had to give, and as we need to eat, it was phys.

We were going to meet a friend in Canterbury, so the rest had to be done, so we could get to the city and nab a parking space.

I went to Tesco after the first coffee of the day. The only coffee of the day.

It was already cooler, though sleep was tough overnight, but a breeze had risen, so took the edge off the day.

The upgrading of Tesco is nearly complete, with many aisles moved, so shopping is a kind of hide and seek. But I get round in half an hour and managed to spend over £100 again.

Back home where I had a shower whilst Jools puts the shopping away, then we can have breakfast before leaving at nine. Or just gone.

Traffic was very light, both along the A2 and on New Dover Road into the city, but doubtless the city itself would be rammed.

It was.

We parked near St Augustine's, then walked into the city, where I spied a barber's with an empty chair. I needed a severe trim, and had an hour to kill, so went in and was shorn.

I felt like a woolly hat had been taken off.

I walked past Christchurch Gate, past the new Marlow and Westgate to Canterbury West, where I had ten minutes before Graham's train arrived.

He said the train, a 12 car Javelin, from St Pancras was like the Tube at rush hour, rammed with folks heading for Margate and Ramsgate mostly, but plenty got off at Canterbury with Graham.

We walked away from the city to St Dunstan's, so Graham could see and record the church in which Henry II changed into his hair shirt for his penitent visit to the Cathedral after Thomas Becket's murder, and is also the place where Thomas More's head was buried after his daughter obtained it from a spike on Old London Bridge.

It was buried in the vault of her husband, the Ropers.

From there we sought a drink, and settled on a place beside Westgate where I had a lemonade whilst Graham had tea. We chatted whilst the world went past. The air con in the restaurant was excellent, and I could have stayed all day.

But we were going to the cathedral, walking along lesser used lanes and alleyways until we came to he Buttercross and the Gate. I had tickets from a previous visit, so we could escape the queue for a ticket and get in quick.

Though in the Nave, the Altar was being set up as a DJ's booth or something. All chair removed, but the building had hundreds of visitors.

Graham took shots, while I showed him some nooks and crannies that he might have escaped on previous visits.

We also went down to the crypt, and to the Chapter House.

He got shots while I people watched, and even found some things and places I had yet to record in nearly 1,000 images taken over many visits.

That done, we left through the two gift shops, as is the way, then doubled back to our old friend, the Thomas Becket, for drinks and lunch.

Meddlesome Priest was back on the pumps, and very good it was too, as we had three pints each before lunch of burgers and fries arrived.

Graham had to get back to that London, we we walked with him back to the High Street, pointed him in the direction of Westgate, then we turned and walked the other way through the crowds back across the ring road to the car.

Wisely, Jools drove us home, arriving back at twenty past three. Time enough to catch most of the Norwich game on the tellybox, though I needn't have bothered.

Despite playing well, creating many chances, it just didn't click, and were caught with two sucker punches, literally for the first as the forward used his hand to score. A late goal was too little too late, and so lost 2-1.

Friday 14th August 2026

We had reached the end of the week, and my thoughts had turned to the final Kent orchid species of the year, the Autumn lady's tresses.

Drought conditions have meant that not one image of them had been posted in my FB group, but maybe my orchid eyes were better?

And with it being even hotter than Thursday, if we were going to climb the downs, then it had to be done early.

Which is why we left home at ten past six for the drive to Temple Ewell. At least the roads were quiet.

After parking, we walked up the steep steps into the wood, out into the lower meadow, now almost totally scrubbed over, although a bumper blackberry harvest is in store as the brambles were everywhere.

Up through the upper wood, out into open downland.

It was already very warm, though the views of the village below were grand.

Through the first paddock, past the fence, then down onto the lower slopes, where in a good year hundreds of spikes can be seen.

This is not a good year.

Maybe it'd take time to get my eyes in? We both search, first walking down through the least green part, almost down to the shrubs at the bottom. Then back up, zig-zagging as we went, but no ALTs seen.

There were a few Eyebrights, Harebells, a few Squinancywort, ground thistles, and many Small and Field scabious.

There were butterflies, but in the early heat they were already flighty, and I only got slightly close to two Adonis blues, snapping a male and female.

In the next paddock, under the fence, there usually are some ALT to be found, but none now.

I drew a blank.

Even worse, no Autumn gentians either. Not a single plant.

After 90 minutes, we sighed and gave up, walked back to the gate, then down to the car.

Getting back home just before eight, and before rush hour.

Our black bin was out, but we hadn't put this week's bag in it, so seeing the truck disappearing up Station Road meant it would have to wait two more weeks.

Back home it was too hot to do anything. Jools drove to the library, and I stayed inside, trying to stay cool, but it was hard.

I made lunch once Jools was back, chicken salad with steamed corn, we bot had squash as beer would have gone to our heads.

A snooze on the bed was called for, though I just laid there, and the hottest part of the day passed outside.

I guessed the answer in the music quiz, but my typing must have been slow as I was only 12th getting it right, so no points for me.

And then football returned, with Wolves playing Blackburn, which ended in an entertaining 2-2 draw, Wolves equalising through a disputed penalty.

So it goes.

Thursday 13th August 2026

Thursday.

And we have been home nearly a week. There is a little of the post-holiday blues setting in, so mundane things like going to the gym are ever more of a drag.

But we were up at ten past five. The cats fed, Scully tested and jabbed, then coffee made, so that we could be out by five to six.

This is the start of a two day mini-heatwave, with temperatures expected to top thirty degrees both days, and as usual, the air conditioning in the gym doesn't reach to where our two bikes are.

But it is what it is, and we both get pedalling. The plan was to get close to forty minutes again, although I thought getting there on the second session back was ambitious.

In the end I did thirty five. as hot and bothered, and 60% of the pod listened to.

There is still enough food in the house, so no need to go shopping, except for some milk, which we'd pick up later.

Home again before seven, the top patio still in shade, and cool enough to sit outside for a while.

We both have showers through the morning, but as we had forgotten to put the afternoon tea date on the calendar, I made sausage sarnies for lunch. It was only after we had eaten both sarnies did Jools remember.

Afternoon tea is rather old fashioned, and was never a thing again until a decade or so ago, or not that I was aware. It has finger sandwiches, small portions of cake, a clotted cream and jam scone, as well as a pot of tea.

All served on a fancy set of mini-shelves. Sean and Ange had invited us, as Ange had won the meal for being super fit and winning at being able to plank the longest.

It was also her birthday, though she didn't tell us until we were back home.

As it was over thirty in the shade, the beach that was left at high tide, and parking in the surrounds was packed. And as we walked to the hotel, the sweet smell of sun lotion wafted by, bringing memories of childhood days spent on the beach.

We walked on, and found our friends sitting in the foyer, so we walk to the deserted chop room where tea was to be served.

We caught up, chatted and talk, as it always does between two ex-servicemen, to military matters and so we hijack the conversation.

But two hours pass.

Our parking is running out, so we say goodbye and we part on the prom, we walking to our respective cars, us to drive back onto Townwall Street then back home.

It were still hot.

And Friday would be hotter still.

Yay.

So, an ice cold beer was called for.

And then another.

Cats were fed, Scully jabbed and tested.

Life goes on.

No football again, but the Football League season starts Friday night, so there'll be football most nights.

A hot an humid night ahead, and sleep would be difficult. Again.

He's got (most of) the world in his pocket

We were away when the latest FIFA scandal hit, out the fallout from it hit. Many have written about it, so sorry to be the latest and probably last.

But here goes.

Giovanni Vincenzo "Gianni" Infantino was elected FIFA President in 2015 on an anti-corruption ticket.

The decisions to give the 2018 tournament to Russia and the 2022 to Qatar were not his. But he had the power to open investigations into how inproper those two votes were back in 2010.

He did not open an investigation into either.

In fact, he moved to Qatar in time for the 2022 tournament, and brushed aside concerns about slave labour and deaths during contruction of the stadiums, stating he knew what it was like to be marginalised, as he grew up with ginger hair.

FIFA is supposed to be apolitical, so there was more than surprise when he announced that Donald Judas Trump was the winner of the first, and probably only, FIFA Peace Prize in 2025. Norway has raised a case with FIFA's ethics committee in regards to this, as it clear breaks a FIFA statute.

Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts, absolutely. So it is said.

In the run up to this year's World Cup in the US, Cristiano Ronaldo had his three match ban for a red card, given as he elboed an Irish player in the face, suspended.

The red card given to US forward, Folarin Balogun, was also suspended after Trump called on the FIFA President to ask it to be suspeded. The rules for the tournament stated, clearly, that a straight red card, or a red card for two yellows, would lead to a suspension. This was communicated to every team befvore they played each game, until after that decision.

Somali referee Omar Artan was banned from entering the US as he had a similar name to a person who had alleged links to a terrorist organisation. FIFA did not challenge this as would be expected. And the Iranian team had most of their officials and fans banned from entering the US, and the team itself could only enter the US on the day of the game and leave again as soon as their games were finished.

Again, FIFA did not challenge this, although there is clear reference to allowing free movement of fans, officials and players of participating countries in the legally binding contracts signed at the ceremony awarding the tornament.

In 2026, in an effort to raise $4.2 billion in development grants, Infantino proposed plans to sell a minority stake of FIFA Forward Enterprise (FFE), without the apparent knoowledge or approval of the FIFA executive committee or any of the 211 National FAs. Pressure was put on national FAs by the President to agree to this so to be eligiable for $40million in funding from the sale in September, failure to approve would mean no money.

This was dropped after a worldwide backlash, though due to the unaudited money funnelled to the National FAs in the poorer parts of the world, he seems likely to remain in post with their support. But support is crumbling. A little.

Nothing has been said by FIFA's commercial partners, whose baulking a the corruption under Blatter caused him to resign mere weeks after winning a further term in office.

UEFA is to boycott FIFA competitons until major changes are made, and that threat remains in place.

As an auditor, the fact that the President clearing bypassed the rules for decision making and change management without the knowledge of most of the organisation should have made his position untenable, and should have been removed from office, if such a process was available to it.

What could follow is a battle between UEFA and FIFA for the control and ethics of the game, and how much of the rest of world football will stand beside the European body. A split in the game seems a distinct possibility.

Wednesday 12th August 2026

In any other year, with maybe an average year's weather, we would have been in northern Spain enjoying the total eclipse.

But you know the story already.

A year with already five heatwaves, and our first day out of the Alps eight days ago, driving into temperatures approaching forty degrees, and the thought of seven more such days of maybe even higher temperatures as we drove south, meant, instead, we headed north.

So, the morning of the 12th dawned, and I slept on to half six, and opened the curtains to reveal clear blue skies.

We had bought filters for our cameras, and the ISO certified glasses for the occasion. IN fact my filter was from the "Great American Eclipse" of 2017, but was still good.

During the day we checked our cameras, lenses, filters, did test shots, and so were ready for showtime before just before six.

Before then Jools went to her class, and then knot and natter, before going into town to look for more crocks for me.

At half nine I was video-called by three former colleagues for a catch up chat. I have been feeling a little abandoned by them, but this more than made up for it, even if the company hasn't changed.

So it goes.

Lunch was hash, which I prepared through the morning, then cooked up once she came back home at half twelve, so that we sat down to eat with ice cold beer/cider at about half one.

We are working our way through the three hours of the Proggy Proms, which is pretty good and still on the i player for several weeks, worth seeking out.

I tried a new beer, 7.9% tripel aged in rum barrels. I went for a snooze once we had washed up, so that come half five I was fighting fit and ready to go.

We decided to go to the top of Station Road, near the transponder beacon, and once up there at ten past six, there was just one other car, though they had no glasses, just welder's masks to share between the six of them, so we gave them our spare eclipse glasses so the kids could get a good view.

Soon after, first contact happened, as the disc had a slight bite taken out of the right side, then the moon slid further over, taking an hour to get to about 92% hidden.

By then the area beside the road was full of cars, families and three boy racers who thought we needed a techno version of Kylie's hits.

We didn't.

But the cosmic dance played out to the west, getting lower as more and more of the sun was blocked out.

The bright sunlight had that odd texture to it, not its usual Technicolor, something flatter. Not sure if the birds stopped singing, I do know the techno didn't stop.

Once maximum had passed, we packed away and drove home, on the way seeing people set up with deckchairs, tables and various binos, cameras and picnics to enjoy the show.

We got home, poured the last of the drinks left from lunchtime, had the rest of the cheese, before settling down to watch PSG v Villa in the Supercup.

Football is indeed back, if ever it went away.

Tuesday 11th August 2026

The holiday is well and truly over as Tuesday rolled round, and so the alarm had to be set so we could go to the gym early doors.

I had weeks of podcasts ready to listen to, what could go wrong?

What could go wrong was that the rechargeable battery had gone flat.

This I only discovered when at the gym beside the bike, and all revved up and ready to peddle.

I tried and tried and connect the headphones with the phone, and nothing was doing. So, the only choice was to listen to the Eurodisco on the gym hi-fi, and watch the video of a bike ride through the French Alps.

You can guess why I chose that.

As the first session back after 24 days, I did 21 minutes, and so reached the Rush time: 21:12, I called it a day, and said I'd do more the next session on Thursday.

I had also managed to strain my knee sitting badly at the table, so with every step I felt my right knee was going to collapse.

But didn't.

And through the day it got better.

We had showers, and then took the day easy.

I filled the day watching "I am a cliché", the life story of the erstwhile Poly Styrene, aka Marianne Joan Elliott-Said, the lead singer and songwriter for X-Ray-Spex.

A remarkable story, and a sad one told by her daughter, who used the film I think as a journey of discovery as who her Mother was before she was born.

Marianne/Poly was ahead of the curve when it came to DIY fashions, having lived through a hard life as the child of a mixed race couple.

Anyway, its a film well worth seeking out, and is currently on Sky Arts, which for me is free, rather than renting through Amazon.

The other task for the day was to search the listings for the Heritage Weekends in September, and choosing which places to visit or have to book for. I will try a few of these, and others on the Ride and Stride list, which takes place at the same time on the same day.

There was no football, but the start of the season gets ever closer, with the grande depart for the football league kicks off this weekend.

We were going out on the patio to watch the bats emerge and hunt for food, but tiredness overtook us, so we went upstairs to bed.

Monday 10th August 2026

Were not the weather so hot and dry, we would be in the south of France, preparing to cross over the Pyrenees into Spain.

As it is, we're back home, and its Monday morning.

The last day before we restart phys and life returns to something like normal.

But life is not normal. Like France, the colour of the countryside and gardens is brown, and there is has been little or no rain since the middle of May, apparently.

We had a little water in the butts left over, so the ponds were topped up, and the Canas and tomatoes given a slight drink, but most of our other plants are dead or beyond help.

Life is far from normal.

Jools went out soon after breakfast, and so I grabbed a camera and went for a short walk, hoping to see butterflies or other insects.

And in that I was successful, though by the time I stirred myself it was mid-morning and all species too flighty to be snapped.

The hedgerows are full of autumn fruit, though whether the local farmer will let nature or us harvest the bounty is another matter.

The horses in the new paddock at the end of he street try to nibble what native plants have survived thus far, otherwise stamp their hooves for the return of who will bring hay, as the winter food stocks are used to cover the gaps.

Past the old butterfly glade, now overgrown, I walk to the paddock at Fleet House to snap what butterflies there were around the abandoned farm equipment, though they too were too flighty to be snapped.

It was hot. Not overly so, but hot enough. Hot enough to want to get back home for a cold drink.

Back down Collingwood, then down the track to our street and back home.

I was gone less than an hour, and the walk was pretty flat, at least compared to where we were a week ago.

I arrive back just as Jools returned, so the kettle was put on and brew made.

That made life better.

But it really was too hot to sit in the back garden, at least until the afternoon when the shadows cover the top patio.

And when it does we can admire the hedges, now shorn, as Rob did them whilst we were away, and bagged up the clippings, the clippings which Jools dropped off at the tip earlier.

We stay inside during the hottest part of the day, out of the sun, trying to stay cool.

A cold beer or cider went well with lunch, as did an ice cream and hour later. The day grew old.

For the evening there was the last game of the first round of the League Cup, which passed a couple of hours until it was time to go to bed at ten.

Some rum helped ease the pain of the dullness of the early season football.

The earth dies burning

Last winter, at least to my memory, was very wet.

So wet that the Drellingore flowed before Christmas I seem to recall, and was on February25th this year.

It usually took months of rain for this to flow, and yet there it was living proof of the abundance of rain we in east Kent had received up to that point.

The last significant rain I can recall was on 20th May, this was my comment on the day:

"Water! Falling from the sky!

These are the last few days of "spring", with, according to the Met Office, summer will be arriving on Friday, and by Saturday it will be 29 degrees.

By which point we can all complain about how darn hot it is.

But until then, it is cloudy, with frequent heavy rain showers, a keen breeze, and we need the heating on.

Not that it was cold, just felt cold."

After that damp winter, we had a dry Spring, followed by a dry June and July. At Kew, there was no measureable rain for the whole month of July, the first month on record that had happened.

Not only was it dry in east Kent, or all of Kent, or the South East of England or all of England, but most of Europe too.

May Day weekend we had temperatures of 37 degrees in the south east, the hottest May or June day on record.

Wild flowers failed, crops failed, rains failed.

Then came the wildfires.

Not just here, but in Canada and parts of the US too. In the Pacific a mega-El Nino is brewing that will put more heat into the oceans and provide the energy for more extreme weather.

The colour of western Europe this summer is burnet brown grass. We saw it all up our drive through western France, then into Normandy to Calais, then here in Kent. All bar the hardiest of native plants with the deepest of tap roots is dead.

There will be low yields from crops, food prices will go up and there will be shortages. And yet our new Prime Minister has said nothing about the drought.

A new heatwave is coming on Thursday, London might hit 38 degrees of higher. It'll be cooler here, but not by much.

Looking at the two week forecast on the BBC, there might be rain on the 22nd.

Might be.

Of course we cut short our holiday due to high temperatures, returning home to where it was, for a time, bearable.

The right wing press report on the drought and wildfires, while they attack the Government for their net zero policy, the one policy that might turn things around, and instead demand we drill for more oil. While our techbro overlords demand data centres that each will consume more water and energy than a city, and pump out more heat.

The techbros plan trips to Mars to make that habitable while it would be cheaper and more sensible to save the planet we currently live on.

Sunday 9th August 2026

We should have been in Bezier this morning, instead we woke up in our own bed, a cool and refreshing night meant lots of much needed sleep.

Jools went for a walk first thing, while I snoozed some more, only to wake up and find the house empty when I did finally get up just after six.

I made a coffee, then sat in the cool morning on the patio with Scully, who was very happy with that turn of events.

I asked Jools if she thought Ange and Sean would be down the beach, she thought they might, so we jumped in the car and drove down to the prom, parking near the sliver of beach, as it was high tide.

But something odd was going on.

It seemed the high tide had brough a shoal of whitebait into the harbour, and near to the shore, herrings were leaping trying to catch them. And in the air and on the surface, huge numbers of gulls joined in the hunt, making a huge noise about it, with more and more gulls flying in as the shoal surfaced with splashes of water.

There was hardly and open water along the shore, as the gulls, fish and cormorants all had their fill of the tiny fish.

Ange and Sean joined the crowd in watching, then smiled as they realised we had come to say hello. Hugs and handshakes followed.

In a couple of weeks, Ange is going to swim across the Solent to the Isle of Wight, something like three miles, but in a place with very strong tides. They have both been practicing for months, so are just about ready.

We leave them, and drive back to Townwall Street, now cleared of Saturday's holiday traffic, and head home for a brew and breakfast.

And that was the excitement for the day done and dusted.

There was football in the afternoon, Celtic vs someone, though by the time we had eaten our lunch of chicken and salad, Celtic were 4-0 up going into half time, and the former Norwich target, Kasper Hogh, scoring a hat trick.

In a surprise, Steve from next door came round bearing beers, so we popped a couple open and sat on the sofa to watch the end of the game, then some of the women's Le Tour, before switching over to see another League Cup game.

Three glasses of beer each of at least 8% were drank, and the afternoon had turned to evening.

Saturday 8th August 2026

Back home.

Nine days early.

And on top of that it was cool enough during the night to allow us to sleep well, and long into the morning. What with no cats to disturb us, we slept to nearly seven.

Outside, it was cool enough to sit on the patio, even in the full sun , well, until after ten.

As stressful as the cat round-up is before going away, there is the joy of the collection upon our return.

Before the collection, I went to Tesco where the store refurb is not yet complete, and some of the aisles have been moved, so its a reach search to find things like tea and coffee.

I buy salad, fruit and vegetables, mostly, as we need to eat healthy once again.

Back home for breakfast, and Jools then is off to collect the cats. No emergencies while we were away, and Scully in particular seemed to have enjoyed it there, even if she was in a pen on her own.

Upon their return, we let them out of the boxes at the top of the drive, so they can explore, check scent markings and get used to being home in their own time.

Both Mulder and Scully claimed not to have been fed, despite Jools having seen their bowls that morning, almost emptied.

We are followed by them for a while, then life settles down to how it was before we went away.

Norwich were on the TV in the afternoon, and Poppy slept near me on the blanket under the front window as the game started, all curled up and content with how the day panned out.

Norwich were playing MK Dons in the League Cup, and any thoughts of a struggle were put away as City went two up in the first six minutes, and never really looked in danger, so cruised to a 4-1 win.

Stinky cheese and crusty fresh bread for supper. Of course. The bread goes stale pretty quick, but is good enough with wedges of fromage on it.

After that, we both grew tired pretty quick, so were in bed by half eight, with it nearly being dark outside.

Friday 7th August 2026

Time to go home.

But before then, a short drive into the city to visit and photograph the cathedral, which if I remembered right has some of the oldest stained glass in all of Europe.

We woke up after a long sleep, the traffic on the bypass outside didn't keep us awake, and the cool temperatures meant it was easy to snuggle up under the duvet.

Cool?

Yes, eight degrees, though it would warm up quickly, but with the roof window open, it allowed the cool air in, and the sound of bird song.

We went down for breakfast after showers, and found the usual mix of fruit, bread, yogurts, and preserves. And lots of strong coffee.

We drove into the centre, parking at another underground car park called "Cathedral". And this time the large churchy building nearby was the cathedral.

Like most cities we drove into, it was quiet, even in the midst of what would be rush hour in Britain. And in the circular underground car park, only about 10% of spaces were taken.

Out into the cool of the morning, blue shadows fulling the streets, and over the roofs were the twin spires of the cathedral.

I got busy snapping the north, west and east triple doorways, as I knew it would open at half eight, but then mass would start at nine, and as I guessed, insides were signs asking no photography when a mass was being held.

Which gave me half an hour. How many shots could I take in 30 minutes?

Nearly 600 if you were wondering what the answer was.

Around the outside of the Sanctuary were incredible carved friezes depicting the life of Jesus, which I recorded in two batches.

Between I put on the big boy lens, and started to record the glass, starting with the rose window in the west, and the three 12th century panels below.

I had only taken a fraction of the shots I wanted, when the clock chimed nine, and the Bishop emerged, and the choir began to sing.

We could have waited for mass to be completed, but that would have been in thirty or more minutes, but we still had a four and a half hour drive to get to Calais, then get onto a shuttle.

We'd best be going, I said.

So we did.

Though the smell of fresh coffee in the row of restaurants on the main square did smell amazing.

Now.

Both Jools and I are old enough to remember, and experience, the traffic jams around the Paris ring road, so our intention was to go to Rouen, then up the coast road from there. Even if it did mean using the crazy fur lane link road that winds it way through a commercial estate, and is clogged with trucks and holiday traffic.

It was a quiet run up to Rouen, along less-known dual carriageways and motorways, but then onto that ring road. Not as bad as I remember, but with roadworks on the bridge over The Seine, but traffic on the road we merged on were allowing one car at a time to blend in, so we made progress, and once through the tunnel we were back out into the countryside and up to warp speed.

And so we ate the miles up until we crested a hill near Boulogne-sur-Mer, and the Kent coast could be seen some 30 miles away.

We paid the last toll of the trip, and dropped into Calais, where we had four stops. Well, two in fact.

The Carrefour hypermarket near the port for some beer. Proper 1664, brewed in France and different to the pish we get in Britain. Then to Calais Vin for some Belgian beer, French cidre, more French wine, and cheap pink fizz.

Next door to the fromagerie for a selection of cheeses, all stinky and runny. Before going to the patisserie for some fresh crusty bread. And we were done.

The car was loaded, and had just enough room for us. We moved off going down two junctions of the motorway to the Tunnel

Check in was easy, then was the chaos of getting through the two sets of border controls. There are now staff directing cars on which lane to join, so not the free-for-all of old, but it still took an hour, meaning we missed our booked train, and there wasn't another for an hour!

So, we sat in line for half an hour before boarding, and then the five minute wait before the train moved off.

We got off at ten to four, and once we took the A20 exit, we were in Folkestone, onto the A20, over the cliffs and down into Dover.

A ferry had dicked, so traffic was heavy up Jubilee Way, but it moved quickly, and so we were able to turn onto the Deal road, then off into the village and home.

Home.

The car was unloaded. Washing put into the machine, and clean clothes put away.

We worked well as a team, and by six so much done, I could take part in the quiz, though I jumped in early and got it wrong.

Jools went to the Chinese, so for supper we dined well and drank ice cold beer/cider, as the evening darked outside, and was dark by half eight.

But we were home, so went to bed and slept well, me after 15 hours driving over two days, and Jools having to suffer my driving for 15 hours over two days!

Thursday 6th August 2026

The decision had been made, the holiday was aborted. Our next two hotels were cancelled, though we would only get partial refunds.

It was a twelve hour trip, at least to Calais, so we would break it on the way north. Break it at Chartres, as the cathedral there has some incredible early stained glass.

If I remembered correctly.

That thought did worry me through the day on the road.

We booked at another Ibis on the outskirts of the city, and the sat nav told us we had 485 miles to go.

We rose at half five, had breakfast at six, and after loading thew car the dash said it was already 27.5 degrees, and they sun wasn't yet up.

As we walked out of the hotel, a pair of Black redstarts greeted us, chirping for food, or more likely, water. We had none. Or nothing to put it in.

Arles had not yet woken up, so we had an easy run to the motorway, the day's first light illuminating the apartment buildings as we went west.

West to Montpellier on quiet roads, then north, north along where we travelled two years ago to Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert and the Devil's Bridge.

Traffic was light, driving was fun, and the road climbed to nearly 3,000 feet, up a long twisty valley and onto the high plains beyond.

We cruised at 70mph, and made good time.

The landscape the whole way was brown and desiccated. The summer has been long and hot, and the drought carries on.

In places we saw the evidence of wildfires. Just small ones, but fields and copses of threes were just brown stains and charred skeletons.

We broke into the less than 400 miles to go barrier.

And it took and age to get to the less than 300 mile stage.

We stopped for a drink and a snack. The car needed filling. Again.

The road turned into a motorway, and soon we were approaching Viaduc de Millau, this time in bright sunshine, the support towers for the deck standing stark against the dark blue sky.

We were making for the city of Clermont-Ferrand, where we would join the main road north. It took forever to get there. The morning grew old and the sun was overhead. Traffic was thicker, but we pressed on.

We stopped at a small service station, the same one we had lunch in some two years ago. A baguette with local salami and pickles, along with a Fanta.

Onwards in the afternoon sunshine, and mild heat of the day to Moulins and then Bourges. I was struggling to stay awake. I tried music. A podcast. Jools snoozed beside me as I tried to blink myself awake.

We stopped at an Aire, and I grabbed a double espresso and a sticky cake, walked around some, and felt better.

We had less than 100 miles to go.

At Orléans the sat nav's instructions and display said different things, so I followed the display. And was wrong. A twenty mile diversion, doubling back and onwards before turning off and crossing over the fields to the point where we saw the twin spires of Chartres cathedral.

But that was for the morning.

We made it to the hotel, another Ibis Styles, this time on the edge of a commercial park.

I had booked a huge family toom. We had a double bed each, a table each, and in the bathroom, a basin each too.

I had noticed two bars on the way to the hotel. The first one was a shop and bar, so we walked the fifty yards there, and found a good selection on tap. Also they did a charcuterie board.

We feasted on cured meats, cheeses and pickles, as I made three pints disappear.

The long drive, lack of sleep soon made my eyes droop, so we went back to the hotel, where the moderate heat of the day was fading, and would fall to single digits by dawn!

We slept long. And well.

Wednesday 5th August 2026

We woke after ten hours sleep. Life felt much better, the rain had cleared overnight, so the morning light was clear and bright.

We had laid in until half seven, and it was an hour later when we went down for breakfast, where the hotel’s old dog kept us company, demanding head pats and back rubs.

Like all French hotels, the bread was excellent, as so was the local yogurt.

I show many people around the Kent orchid sites, and most say that if I down their way, let them know and they will share locations. One such was Kevin, who told me of an orchid site at 6,000 feet, that usually has several Ghosts.

He gave me a map pin location, it was on our way south, some 55 minutes away, so it seemed daft not to at least try.

It was a sad depart from the hotel, as it was by far the best on the whole trip. Great food, three choices of draught La Chouffe, good beds, and very quiet. The staff were friendly, and didn’t laugh or roll eyes at my fractured Franglais.

It was going to be a hot day in the foothills, but hotter further south, though we had no idea as to how hot, hot actually feels.

We drive back to the main road, and headed south west, along the busy roads, stopping at a service station for fuel, before driving on.

The road began to climb, huge curves took the road upwards, with meadows filling the part in the middle, then hairpins, and all the while cyclists huffing and puffing, or not, up the Col.

We turned sharp left off the main road, onto a narrow mountain road that clung to the side of a gorge, the drop on the left hand side soon dropping hundreds of metres, and only a frail meatl fence stopping anyone who made a mistake.

We arrived at the pinned location, and saw along the road, prime Ghost habitat. But a feel of the moss revealed it to be bone dry, despite being green. We searched along the roadside bank, found several species gone to seed, and even some Creeping Lady’s Tresses newly emerged and one even still in bud.

We each went up a track leading up the side of the mountain, into the woods, but the orchids died out, though the moss continued. We searched for an hour, found lots of gone-to-seed spikes, but only one Dark red helleborine still in flower.

We had ran out of time.

Back to the car, and back along the mountain track, where we encountered many cars and buses coming the other way, the narrow track only had a few passing places, and on our side of the road was the massive drop to the gorge below.

We made it back to the main road safe, turned back down the hill, and rejoined the main road leading out of the Alps.

The road meandered down valleys, some narrow and steep, but latterly les so, until we came to the motorway, then I could put the hammer down.

The car’s display had shown it to be twenty two degrees when we set out from the hotel, but as we dropped in altitude and it got towards afternoon, thirty degrees was reached, then thirty five, and finally thirty eight.

We stopped at the first services, as the mountains were now just shadows in the rear view mirror. We stepped out of the air conditioned car and into the afternoon heat, and it hit us like a slice of lemon wrapped round a gold brick.

We got drinks and a baguette, ate, and went back to the car to head further south.

The countryside was now flat, filled with crops, and low hills on which were farms and villages. Traffic got heavier, and the temperature didn’t drop.

We reached Arles, where we had several things planned, but getting out of the car showed that just walking in the heat and humidity would have been just about impossible for us.

Into the hotel, and their air conditioning wasn’t coping, we joined a queue of people waiting to check in, all had faces and bodies the colour of freshly boiled lobster.

We checked in and went to our room. It faced south, and had received at least six hours of sunshine, the air conditioning made little difference. I washed my face so to be free of sweat, and within thirty seconds as hot all over again.

We went down to the bar, and found ice cold beers just about took the edge off, but not by much. I made two pints disappear as more guests arrived, and found their rooms not ready, and their anger quickly boiled over.

At seven we had dinner, and over glasses of rose wine, we were honest about the heat and the fact we had at least eight more days of it. Should we stick with it, or not?

We both said it was too much. We couldn’t sleep, and during the day it would have been too hot for us to do anything outside, but we had days of nature watching planned, all of which was impossible.

We cancelled the next two hotels, meaning we would not see the total eclipse, but would see it 97% total from home. We booked a hotel in Chartres, and sighed with relief.

We went upstairs to pack an overnight bag, contact the cattery, and try to get some sleep.

Tuesday 4th August 2026

Time to begin the next stage of the holiday.

Pack and then try to find the car in the underground lair I left it in on Saturday.

Wheels was due at eight, and breakfast an hour before, so up at six, and I was out the hotel at half six, walking the empty streets to the car park, then down the stairs as far as I could, and there was out reliable Audi.

I drove to the hotel, where Jools had the first of the bags ready for loading, and in the minutes before breakfast, it was pretty much done.

Richard had already confirmed to me that we would be leaving up the Col, so the question remained, in feet how high it was.

And could I drive up it, and down the other side?

Driving it is different from being a passenger, though easier at eight in the morning when the early cyclists were trying to climb it.

Up and up, round and round we went, until the car said it was 9,200 feet above sea level, and then the ay down began.

Both up and down the Col, we passed the sites we had botanised, and then onto virgin territory. We stopped for five minutes to see what was left of the Globe-flowered orchid, then back in the buses and car to the bottom of the Col, then along for twenty miles before taking a minor road up, and attacked another Col.

This was taking us towards Italy, but little did I know that after crowning that Col and descending it, we entered Italy, and into a busy town the other side, by which time our brake pads were stinking after much use.

After a week in the high Alps, it was a shock to enter a busy town, and the jams it provided where two major roads met.

This is where I lost contract with Jon and Richard, only having a “pin” of the last site we were to visit, and hoping that it was correct.

Google maps took us over another minor Col, back into France, and through majestic landscapes, with views of castles and monasteries built on hills or outcrops of rocks.

By luck, our next hotel was within ten miles of the last site visit: one for Ghosts.

We arrived first. Parked and had our lunch while we waited for the two buses to arrive.

Richard briefed us, and so we went hunting, over the bridge and to the left, up the wooded slopes of the river valley.

The ground was dry. The moss was dry. And although we saw plenty of orchids gone to seed, no Ghosts were seen.

I went up exploring the wooded slope, up a track. Up and up I went, before realising that I would miss the buses departure unless I hurried.

I arrived at the bottom of the hill five minutes after they left. Jools was waiting for me, patient as ever.

Just us now.

We programmed in the hotel, some thirty minutes away. Realising that I had no idea what we would find, so approached Puy-Saint-Vincent with some worries.

I needn’t have worried It was a large chalet style place, with a well-stocked bar and a restaurant. After a few minutes waiting, the owner came to check us in, poured us a drink each, and so with full glasses we sat on the veranda and drank in the calmness of the isolated valley.

Up to our room, upgraded to one with a balcony, we settled in, and I grabbed a well-needed 90 minutes of zedding.

Down for dinner at nine, we had three courses:

Gazpacho of fresh pea.

Cassoulet of scallops.

Liqueur ice cream.

And beer.

It was fabulous.

Behind us the fay faded, clouds built behind the mountains, as always.

After going back to the room, the storm broke. Thunder roared and rattled the windows, then rain hammered down, so loud I thought it an air conditioning fan.

|It was still raining when we went to bed, and fell asleep as the rain steadily fell.

Monday 3rd August 2026

Believe it or not, the final day in the tour mini bus.

Another humid evening, turned into a cool and refreshing morning. We rose at half six, had showers and were ready for the day.

Jools would try one of the local free bus services, and we would head over the Col to further expore the site just over the crest of the pass.

But first, breakfast. As usual there is the scramble for the coffee machine, but with our caffine hit, we were ready for the day.

Val d'Isère is at about 1700m, and the top of the Col is 2,770m. It is some climb to get up there.

So into the buses, and off we go, going up and up, round hairpin bends, and between views down to the town, sometimes hundreds of metres below.

Being a weekday, it wasn’t so busy. Certainly not so many cyclists making the climb. We crested the summit, and went down about 500m, parked at the side of the road, and once out, began botanising the lower slopes of the mountain.

We were looking for the alpine orchids, but also saxifrages and other rare plants. And butterflies.

Thing is, altitude was taking its toll on us, we were easily out of breath, and ached all over. We did OK in the morning, but after lunch, we were not motivated to do much more.

I snapped two species of mountain Ringlets, and saw Small tortoiseshells and Painted Lady at the very top of the pass.

Some climbed the upper slopes, and looked like miniatures from our lower vantage points.

We had lunch at the summit, I took pictures of cyclists posing beside the summit sign, then wandered off exploring on my own. Jon had mentioned how the Brassy ringlet’s upper wing surfaces appeared burnished when light hit at a certain angle, and I was lucky enough to capture that.

The Silky ringlet is a very rare species, but common in the higer Alpine passes. I snapped one of those too.

On our way back down to the hotel, we stopped off at two more sites, but with the threat of active weather inbound.

My knee told me I had done enough, so sat in the van and listened to a pod, then just before we got back to the hotel, we stopped beside the road to look at to Gentian species, both rare, one I had not seen before.

As we crossed the road, the rain began. Big fat drops, soaking us in seconds. And then the bog soaked through our shoes. I stayed long enough to get a shot of the Willow gentian, nearly two feet high, but the bog and rain forced me back to the van and shelter.

And that was that. The tour over. Time to pack, and at seven go for the last debrief and then dinner.

We had squeezed a lot into six days, and on Tuesday they begin the journey back to Lyon, while we continue south for next week’s eclipse.

Sunday 2nd August 2026

We are in the high Alps, right in the heart of the country normally occupied by the apris ski set. But there is no snow, only above 2.500m, anyway.

We are here for three days to see the high Alpine plants and fauna, and we would be going back to the top of the pass once again.

We meet for breakfast at eight, talk about the day. And are ready for wheels at nine, where we will go back up The Col de l’Iseran.

If anything, Sunday was busier than Saturday, with cyclists, bikers and cars of all sorts climbing or descending one side or the other. So, cars have to find the short straight stretches to get past the cyclists or slow-moving vehicles, and all the while a sheer drop on one side for hundreds of metres with little or no barriers to stop you if a mistake were made.

Eek indeed.

We made it to the top, or 500 metres short of the summit, and from the small parking area we spent three hours botanising and chasing butterflies.

Thanks to Jon’s information the previous evening on the Peak White butterfly, and how rarely they settle and in 35 years he had never photographed one, when I saw a female ovipositioning, I gave chase. And did get a few shots off before she flew away, thankfully one was in focus.

Otherwise it was up and down, snapping flowers, orchids or other butterflies, ot just stopping to take in the grand landscapes that hung all around us.

We made our way back down, stopping off at one of the lower hairpins, where we walked along the road to see more orchids, and were rewarded with Dark red helleborines and the hybrid between the Chalk and Marsh fragrants.

Our final call was at a lower meadow where we went searching for more orchids, Dark reds and Musk, but the high temperatures this summer had frazzled them both at this lower altitude. But there were butterflies to chase, and get shots off. Though I did turn my ankle over whilst climbing a rick fall. As you do.

And that was that, eight hours, 800 pictures taken, and more to edit and post over the next few months.

Dinner again at half seven, which featured sausages. Sausages!