Monday 29th June 2026

I needed the rest on Sunday.

And with falling temperatures and no evening game, I slept better than I have for a week.

So the question on Monday morning was whether to go to the gym, or wait until Tuesday as normal.

In the end, I thought another day of rest would do it, so would try to lay in.

In the end, I didn't. Up early enough so that it was cool before ethe sun got higher and warmer.

Coffee and checking on the world.

Slow to start.

However, with the day being sunny, not too breezy, and just warm, what better way to spend time than to go back to Sandwich Bay.

Before then, Jools had a mentoring session at the gym,. I would drop her off, then go to the vets to collect new syringes and drop off the sharp box, before going into town for another B12 injection.

Jools was dropped off fine, even after leaving our departure a little late. I collected the syringes, and had twenty minutes to get into town, find a place to park beside ASDA and then walk through to the surgery.

This I did with three minutes to spare, I took a seat and was waited to be called.

Suzanne welcomed me, we made small talk while she got the shot ready. I turn my gaze away and she jabbed.

See you on Wednesday!

Back outside, and back to the car and braving the one way system along London Road to up through Buckland and back to the sports centre to wait for Jools.

We were all done by eleven, so took a steady drive along the Sandwich Road past Eastry, then through the houses to the estate.

And once at the observatory, we found the car park nearly full, so we find a space. I go inside to make sure there was no ringing so that we could enter the fenced area to look for orchids and other rare plants.

The Southern Marsh are over for another year, but the numbers of Marsh helleborines have trebled in the two weeks since I was last here. I take a few shots.

Then go round to the other side of the enclosure to look for another rare plant, Yellow bartsia. The area where they usually grown in large numbers flooded over the winter, and vegetation is only now returning.

But as I walk along the path, I see three spikes of my target species, just beginning to flower.

On the way back to the observatory, I am distracted time and time again by butterflies: A Brown argus, a couple of Gatekepers, several Meadow Browns, even more Marbled whites, Large and Small skippers, and several Small coppers, all of which I chase and snap a couple.

We walk back over the meadow, over the road then along towards Deal until we come to a stile, through that and into the Land of the Dragons.

Four pools have been dug, three of them since one of our target species, the Dainty damselfly was rediscovered here. I know which pond to focus on, and soon find several male Dainty.

Which I snap.

And then a single female, which I also snap.

Around the original pond, where the vegetation is thickets, there are many more damsels and dragons, including a Red-veined darter which after ten minutes of chasing, I get shots of. A life tick.

We sit for a while, enjoying the sunshine and breeze, and the fact we have nothing to get back for, just lunch and some more relaxing.

This is our life now. And is great.

We walked back to the car, then began the drive home, going via Deal so to call in at Sainsbury's, as we needed some bread and decent olive oil.

Cold pressed Italian olive oil, though they didn't have any from Tuscany, they did have a bottle from Umbria, so bought that. Also a baton roll for lunch, and some meat and bacon to put in it.

So that once home we had a refreshing brew and half a baton each.

The afternoon was spent writing and listening to stuff before it was dinnertime, feed the cats and make Caprese and warm the bread up.

We eat, drink and were merry.

All done in time for the first game of the Evening: Brasil v Japan, which was a very good game: Japan scored in the first half, and Brasil had to dig deep in the second to level, then score the winner in injury time.

Sunday 28th June 2026

The day after.

And it was still hot.

After a two shower day on Saturday: one when I got up and the second when back from the airshow, I said that the aim for Sunday was not to sweat or perspire at all.

That meant, another day without going to the gym.

And hopefully a lay in.

The lay in was going well until half six when without Jools to fawn over, Mulder climbed onto the bed, meowed twice in my ear and went to the back room for a snooze.

I wouldn't have minded, only I had fallen back into a deep sleep, so was woken suddenly.

It was already hot, though the BBC promised it not as hot as Saturday. I'll be the judge of that!

So, get up, get dressed and go down for coffee and see what kind of mess the world was in.

Just the usual.

Sunday usually means going to the gym, but in truth I was tired. My brain and body tired, so I thought it best to rest.

Which I did.

There was Radcliffe and Maconie to listen to at first, but then Virgin Radio failed to work on the fancy radio, so I sat in silence and did whatever I did that took all morning.

As it was cooler, I could sit on the patio and read, and sitting beside me until she overheated was Scully. Quite happy with a lazy day too, it seemed.

Jen has gone to Bury for a week with Sylv, so didn't have to go and visit.

And so the morning passed.

Lunch was warmed up leftover Chinese washed down with beer, and very nice it was. Though that meant trouble staying awake.

Really, I should have gone for a snooze, but battled drooping eyelids to stay awake.

That was made easier when Di over the road came over to discuss issues with a neighbour, which I won't go into here.

But that woke me up, as we talked for an hour or so. So that there was time for a snack of crisps and beer before the only game of the evening in the "round of 32", South Africa v Canada.

A poor game, which Canada won in injury time to go through to the round of 16.

But being knock out now, it was tense, even if I supported neither team.

Saturday 27th June 2026

A few months back, a call was made for volunteers to man the Royal Air Force Association stall at the Headcorn Air Show.-

I had volunteered for such things a few times, but for various reasons the air shows were cancelled.

But this year, it was still on.

Despite a bit of confusion of timings and how to get in, the day rolled around and all was set.

Also rolling around on Saturday morning was thunder, as another summer storm drifted up the Channel, waking me at four, so I lay awake until it was time to get up at five.

The storm rumbled on, and once I was ready leave after a coffee, it was still drizzling, which would make it humid.

There was no clear time to be there, other than the gates opened at ten, but that the leader for the day, a lady named Makenzie said she and another guy would be there from half six to get the stall ready.

I drive up the motorway to Ashford, then out along the A28, traffic was at least light before seven in the morning, so I made good time before turning off the main road and drove through several picturesque villages before arriving at the aerodrome, parking in the field opposite.

I was waved through the gates, and directed down a line of stalls, where I could see the RAFA tents.

Once introduced, I was given a picture of the table display, pointed to two vans filled with boxes and told all stock was in there. Somewhere.

So for two hours we filled up the four tables at the front of the stall, filled with RAF-themed goods from cheap and cheerful, to things more expensive, the most pricy item being a signed and framed print of a Red Arrow signed by all nine pilots.

Yours for forty quid.

The clouds cleared, and the sun came out, so the humidity rose quickly. I took a bottle of water, but had drunk that by half ten, so went to another stall to buy more ice cold water to keep hydrated.

Under the roof of the tent, the heat was kept in, so that we were all soon suffering from the temperatures.

But we did a roaring trade, and we were shown how to use the card reader thing, and were soon collecting money for the good cause.

Either side of midday, the humidity crept towards something like 90%. I spent over a tenner on cold bottles of water, and during lunch, another tenner on a pint of lager and a pint of alcohol free Kronenbourg. The latter had a horrible chemical taste. And if that's the best they can do, then I'll give it a miss.

We were busy all through the day, but it did east off after eleven when the flying displays started, though some were better than others, and then we had to explain to customers that despite half the stall being Red Arrow related stuff, the Arrows themselves were not going to appear.

Then smiles turned to frowns.

People who attend such things are a mixed bunch, but a significant percentage are middle-aged men dressed in combats, or combat-themed stuff, hats featuring Spitfires of Lancasters. I said to Richard, if they loved planes and the military so much, why didn't they join up? They can't all have had shin splints.

Spitfires, Hurricanes, P45s (I think) among others took to the skies.

But as families suffered with the heat and humidity, numbers began to drop as people went home early, and manning the stall became a bit boring.

Last event was a fly by and refuelling stop for a Chinook, and by then it was half four, and my legs and back were grumbling, just from standing so much.

I walked back to the car, then took five minutes to edge out of the car park, only to be stuck in a line of cars behind a driver who did not go above 30mph, even when back on the A28. They braked whenever a car came the other way, as the train of vehicles behind got longer and longer.

I got past them just as I drew near to Ashford, so could cruise round the roundabouts, past Waitrose and onto the motorway for a blast back to the coast and home.

I got back at quarter to six, Jools telling me I had missed the ice cream van, but shad had one without me.

I took off my top, and my t shirt underneath had dried out, leaving behind lots of salt stains.

A brew, then supper of garlic chick and stir fry followed before I went for a shower and a change of clothes.

Kicking of at ten, was England v Panama. I was shattered and snoozed through most of the first hour, the excited radio commentary woke me when anything near a change occurred.

England score twice late on, but was a poor game and performance.

I went to bed at midnight, and it was still hot.

Going back to Iceland

We're not going back to Iceland, it's just another football blog.

A decade ago this week, England lost 2-0 to Iceland in the 2016 European Championships, bringing the careers of Frank Lampard Jr. and Stevie Gerrard to an end.

It was a dreadful defeat. Not beacuse that performance was bad, but coming after two decades of underperforming by England sides since the Euros held in England in 1996.

That's so long ago, those championships marked the point at which I returned from my posting in Germany to the sleepu hollow that was RAF Lyneham.

The term "golden generation" was coined after England beat Germany in Germany in 2001 by 5-1. It did seem the start of something different, coming after most of my lifetime when Germany would always beat England.

But it was England who won, became smug, while Germany realised something had to be done, and they rebuilt with youth.

Germany won the World Cup again in 2014. England did not.

These were my comments about England after the 2010 World Cup:

"And what a let down, England were even worse than in previous games, and despite pulling a goal back before half time, and having a perfectly good goal disallowed, they were a very poor second to a cool and efficient German team, that now goes on the meet Argentine in the quarter-finals. This is a healthy dose of reality for most England fans, brought up on the belief that England has always been the ebst as well as inventing the game.

But years or under-investment in youth, and over reliance on expensive imports have meant a darth of talent in the Premier League, and this day had been coming a long time, that most hadn’t seen it coming is a sad indightment on the FA and Premier League.

Many of the so-called world’s best, or Golden Generation have had their international careers brought to an inglorious end, and rightly so. Failure of the basics like how to control the ball with one touch or be able to pass to each other being worse offences than tactics or who should or shouldn’t have played.

That there are no real replacements in the pipeline means that the day when England might challenge for the World Cup is maybe a generation away, and only then if there is a sea change in attitudes, which lets be honest, isn’t going to happen any day soon."

And in 2014:

"Nothing has changed, and nothing will change, we will stumble into the major competition every two years, hoping against hope that this time it will be different, but it never is. So, until football admits to itself that there is something wrong, and the FA actually does something about it, it will not change. I was so angry after South Africa, and yet, the FA did nothing. And so this time round, I’m not angry, just disappointed that four wasted years, no real change has happened, nor has any change been put into motion.

The likes of “Super” Frank and Stevie “G” will now being closing their international careers, each two years there has been nothing but optimism followed by failure. The players say they are sorry for letting the fans down, let the FA say something similar, saying how sorry they are at the failure of getting out of the group stages for the first time since 1958.

So, while the rest of the world celebrates and looks forward to the next stage of the competition, England’s layers will be either on the beach soaking u the rays, or getting ready for pre-season. The really sad thing is eight weeks from now, the league season will be under way, and all this failure at international level will be forgotten, and the media will be telling us how great the Premier League is. And nothing will change.

Quite how English football has sunk so low, and we are so happy for it to be this way is a tale of money, money and more money. And how the incompetent FA allowed the Premier League to be set up, and failed to put in controls and so the league bloated and became the foremost football organisation in the country, and the success of the national team is of no concern to the PL, just how the billions keep rolling in from TV companies from around the world.

Eight years ago, Germany were horrified by only reaching the quarter finals, and so reorganised the game in their country, and four years later, a youthful German team took England apart en route to the semi finals. Oh, if only the FA would take such actions after this shocker, but things will not change, the same players for the most part, will be laying the same tactics and we will endure failure once again in Russia in 2018.

It is, after all, just a game, and gives us something to talk and moan about, those 52 year of hurt."

And after that defeat by Iceland:

"England lost last night to Iceland in the knock out phase of the Euros. England were dreadful, I mean really bad, and yet I found myself wanting Iceland to score a third as it would make it worse. England did not register a good chance on target the whole game, and conceded thanks to two goals that would embarrass a park team. The manager resigned, but there is no one really to replace him, because as I have pointed out, those that have gone before from Kevin Keegan to Sven to Steve McLaren to Capello and now to Roy have achieved about the same results. The only common factor is the players.

Not good enough."

In the summer of 2016, Sam Allardyce was appointed as manager. It seemed to sum up Englash football, Mike Bassett: England Manager made real. Truth is Allardyce was a better manager than he was given credit for. I think he was the highest profile England manager/coach at the time, and after "safe" Sven-Göran Eriksson, overpaid Fabio Capello, and Roy Hodgson, who else was there?

We were to find out when Allardyce was sacked: "The 2016 English football scandal was a sports corruption scandal which began on 26 September 2016 following the publishing of the first part of the Daily Telegraph newspaper's "Football for Sale" investigation into corruption in English football.[1] It resulted in the resignation of England national football team manager Sam Allardyce after only one game in charge, as well as the sacking or suspension of numerous English Football League club staff, including Barnsley assistant manager Tommy Wright."

England Under 21 coach, Gareth Southgate, was appointed, someone who had no fear in promoting those players from the U21 side to full internationals. In his first tournament as Manager, England made the semi-finals, losing to Croatia. In the delayed 2020 Euros, England made it to the final, losing to Italy, after taking the lead early on in the final. in 2022, England lost to France in the quarters, but until then performed well. Harry Kane scored on penalty, but missed a second one later on. And it was Kane who perhaps symbolises the England team reborn.

Kane is now one of the best players on the planet, has set scoring records at Tottenham, Bayern and also for England, where is is England's all time leading scorer. Supporting him is a cornucopia of other youthful players, as English teams, and English players who developed around Europe all matured into excellent players.

If Southgate had a faul, then it was to be timmid when boldness might have won England a tournament, the 2020 Euros being a case in point. Leading early on, England had Italy on the ropes, yet didn't push their advantage, and allowed Italy back into the game.

Although England have not played too well under Thomas Tuchel, who was appointed to lead the national side for 18 months until the end of this World Cup, performances alone do not win tournaments, it's all about winning, and sometimes grinding out results. Maybe England won't win the World Cup this time either, but now that we have reached the knockout phases, we shall see. Tuchel knows how he wants the team to play, and the role each player has in that potantial victory.

But I suppose the point of this post is how England have gone from serial bottlers in tournaments to a team that we expect to "go deep" in each one, and get to at least the quarters, and have a chance of winning.

We shall see.

Friday 26th June 2026

For the forth day in a row, the all time June temperature record was broken.

And it was to be the hottest day of the year in St Maggies.

Sleep is a luxury money can't buy right now, with the heat rising to the bedrooms, maybe we should just sleep on the sofa?

Up at four, or just gone. Hot enough to have the duvet pulled up, just in time for the sun rising and warm sunlight battering on the curtains.

Are we ready for this?

Probably not.

At least nothing of much import to be done, other than put the bins out, make coffee and try to stay warm.

Too hot for yoga too, so we could have a lay in, but our brains and the temperature had us up and about for five, feeding the cats and making coffee.

After putting the bins out, I retire to inside the house to keep cool. Listen to pods and write. I am behind on editing and posting pictures on Flickr, so I get busy.

It keeps me off the streets.

It was too hot to sit on the patio, at least until after midday and the shade from the parasol covered the seats.

So at about one I go to sit outside, and about half an hour later, a cool breeze sprung up, making it rather pleasant.

But there was family cards planned at Jen's. Jen's living room has a sunroof thing, and at this time, sun shines right through it onto whoever was sitting on one side of the table, which would this day be me.

So I wore my sun safari hat to keep the worse of the heat off my head. And the only cold drink available was cider, so supped sider, though not the strong stuff Jools likes.

Sylv is going back to Bury with Jen on Sunday, so one last cards afternoon. Mike came round again, though his foot isn't broken, just bruised, and he can drive again. John also turned up, so we had a six handed game, which we never finished as both Mike and John had to go at half five.

While I do the music quiz, Jools goes to collect a Chinese banquet for three, but still is too much for four.

We eat well, but there was enough left over for another meal for Jools and I over the weekend.

Back home to feed the cats, write, and be ready for the football at eight: France v Norway. But as Norway had their starting eleven swapped for replacements, France ripped through them, and were 2-0 up in fifteen minutes and ran out 4-1 winners.

Thursday 25th June 2026

There, I think, three native Kent butterfly species I have yet to see: Grizzled Skipper, Dark green fritillary, and Purple emperor.

The latter I had tried to see on two previous occasions. The first with Jools we wandered around the woodland clearing and saw plenty of other butterflies and moths,, but no Purple.

The second I met two experts, including Billy, who is the king of the fish paste bait. But the weather never really got out, and the only Purple Emperor seen was one that dive-bombed me at the delightfully named Dog-poo Corner.

It was perhaps a week early to be going, but they had been seen on site, and having been asked by Fran if I was going, Thursday was picked, as days when I am receiving my jabs make it impossible.

Thursday was going to be very hot, especially at Tunbridge Wells, near to where our prey is found.

Before then, there was the getting up, drinking coffee, and going to the gym.

What with the concert and the car, I had not been for two sessions, so needed to go. And yet was hot and humid, so would not be pleasant.

We both went, I did thirty minutes, which felt like enough to be honest.

And then to the Promenade so Jools could do some swimming.

We parked near the shallow part of the beach, I waited by the car while Jools changed and went in, splashed for fifteen minutes and then back home before the school run.

And we were heading home for breakfast before I was to collect Fran from Dover Priory at nine.

All went well. Rush hour had died down. Her train was on time, so shortly after five past, we were tearing up Old Folkestone Road to the A20 and then up through Ashford and beyond.

The motorway was busy, but not too bad. So we made good time, the sat nav suggested we would get to the car park at ten to ten.

Through Ightham, past its crooked buildings and picturesque pub, and onwards to the woods, and the car park.

The Purple Emperor spends most of its short adult life in the treetops, feeding off honeydew, only coming to the ground to take up water or salts from puddles or poo.

A bait made from various substances derived from fish has been cooked up, to lure the butterflies to the car park, and where, if we were lucky, we would see and snap one.

After parking, we find one fellow chaser, and he said that had already seen one, so prospects were good.

I asked Fran how long it would take to see our first Purple: her answer was 15 minutes, while mine was half an hour.

After waiting around the car park, we walked up the the corner, and a large butterfly was seen, which I thought at first was a White admiral. But no, as Fran shouted, it was a Purple emperor, and so we gave chase, hoping it would settle.

The Purple upper surfaces on its wings only shows if the angle between the wing and the sun is exactly right. And the shot everyone hopes for is an open-wing with both wings showing that purple sheen.

We only saw the purple on distance shots, not so in close up, where it was in the shade with its wings firmly closed.

We met up with three other chases, and indeed chased two males around until one settled near the new metal gate.

It sheltered in deep shade, wings closed, but allowed us to get shots.

But it was nearing midday, it was now beyond hot, and i was running out of water. So, we agreed to end the chase there, and I had some closed wings close up shots, and a single shot with (brown) wings wide open.

Out of 280 plus shots over two hours.

So it goes. So it goes.

We walked back to the car, opened all windows, and drove back out of the wood, and to the motorway, so to head back east to Dover.

Drink in a pub, Fran?

Yes.

I know just the place.

We turned off at Leeds and went down the A20, turning off and going up the down to Stalisfield Green to the Plough which would be not too busy and the beer is pretty good.

I had a Coke and followed that with a pint of Fuller's ESB, which was a very fine pint.

But it were hot.

I said I would drop Fran off at Faversham, making it easier for her to get to Herne Bay and home.

Faversham wasn't too busy, neither was the A2 once I made my way from the station and out of town.

Back home for three, and time to have a cool beer before relaxing. Tough no cooking as we were going out with Steve from next door. A new place for a quiz.

At seven, Jools drove us to the old High and Dry at Waldershare, now called "The Cider Works", the first time we had darkened their doors for about fifteen years, after that suspicious fire that destroyed the pub.

The quiz was to take place in the marquee where the weddings are held, so be cooler, and very nice it was too.

We did very well, just the three of us, and when the marks were tallied at the end of the evening, we were joint first.

A tie breaker question was asked: how many underground stations are there in London.

I knew it was about 270, but sadly one of the other team knew it was exactly 272.

So close.

Wednesday 24th June 2026

Somehow it was midweek again.

Another weekend.

As very day is a weekend now.

Jools asked me if I miss work.

I miss the people, and yet when I left many soon-to-be-former-colleagues asked for my contact details so we could keep in touch. And yet, not have called, written or texted.

So it goes. So it goes.

It was to be possibly the hottest day ever here in England.

It was certainly warming up quickly by the time I rose at six. Sleep is hard to come by in these humid times, so a lay in of an hour is good.

Jools is making coffee, so I get dressed and go down.

The world is still screwed and the reflecting pool is green and peeling in Washington.

I watch the highlights of the overnight games, with the exception of England's, as there were no highlights.

Jools goes for her class, so I remain here, in charge of herding the cats.

I have breakfast. Another brew, and go to sit on the patio until it is too darn hot.

When Jools returns, I take the car and drive into town for a haircut.

It must have been six weeks since my last, and yet it didn't seem that long, but needed taming. I park behind the church, and walk to my preferred shop, barbers, take a seat, and in ten minutes a chair was free.

I tell him that I need to be done by half eleven, as I have an appointment: could be do it?

Yes he could.

He was like a blur, shaving trimming, snipping. I also had a shave, and as he promised he was done by twenty five past.

I go back to the car, drive round to ASDA, park again, then walk through the back lane to the surgery, and after checking in I was told to go upstairs.

I had no sooner sat down and exchanged the traditional greeting: isn't it hot today?

I go in where the same nurse was waiting.

I have to do your other arm this time, she says.

Any pain last time she asked?

I roll my sleeve up, look away. And the deed is done.

See you Friday, I says.

And with that, I am out, down the stairs and back to the car. Along Maison Dieu Road to Townwall Street and up Jubilee Way to home.

All done.

Jools goes to the physion in the afternoon, so Scully and I watch two episodes of Who Do You Think You Are. I do, she snores, happy with her lot in life.

Jools returns.

I cut two more slices of tart, make brews and we have an early supper while the heat of the day begins to fade.

For the evening there was Switzerland v Canada, which ended 2-1, and was pretty engaging. Scotland would play Brasil an hour after I go to bed, and they needed at least a point to progress.

Tuesday 23rd June 2026

Before going to bed Monday night, I checked the weather forecast and saw there was a 50% chance of rain at some point overnight.

So I got the washing in, closed the windows on the car. During the afternoon and evening, a strong storm crept over Bristol and Somerset, with lightning flashes at an astonishing rate.

London suffered a large electrical storm in the early hours of Tuesday. I woke up just after four with rain hammering down, and soon after the thunder began.

The rain and the storm continued until nearly nine in the morning, totally unforecasted so unexpected

But we were well awake before the alarm went off.

The car was due to go into the garage to have its air con looked at, if i were to go to the gym and be back before seven, so Jools could drop the car off then catch a bus to the centre, meant that it was easier, and less stressful not to go.

We didn't go Sunday either, and I will probably not go Saturday either. I'll pick up the pieces next week, no worries.

So instead of phys I had a lazy morning. Helped Jools with the chores, drank coffee, took out the trash once the rain stopped.

There was podcasts to listen to, so instead of listening to David and Mark on the bike, I sat on the patio once the rain stopped with Mulder and Scully, the storm had cleared by was cloudy with a fine, cooling breeze.

Jools was out until after one, so once back we had a slice of tart and a coffee. I would regret the coffee that night as I lay in bed and sleep wouldn't come.

The sun broke through the clouds at about three, and it got very warm indeed. The heatwave had arrived.

Later, the breeze dies, and the humidity lay on Chez Jelltex like a heavy blanket.

I make chorizo hash for dinner. The peppers needed using up, otherwise I wouldn't have cooked. But we have cold beers/cider when we sit down to eat.

For the evening there was England's second game. A poor 0-0 draw with Ghana, and England unable to unpick their locked defence.

A reality check after the demolition of Croatia last week.

Monday 22nd June 2026

The UK is to suffer the second major heatwave of the summer this week. It should peak on Wednesday and temperatures in and around London might top 40 degrees.

It won't be so hot here, of course. We live near the coast and up on the downs near to the cliffs, so we get our own unique weather, different even from Dover or Deal.

So, it won't be hot as that here, but maybe 30 on Wednesday, and so if there was any orchiding to be done, it would have to be done before then, which is why I was driving to Temple Ewell at half six Monday morning, wearing my new walking shoes and camera in the boot.

It was hot overnight, so despite needing more than six hours sleep, that would have to do, so after coffee I was up and out, while Jools said she had no intention of coming along.

The reason for going is that in good years there are thousands of Chalk fragant orchids up there. Plenty of Common spotteds too, as well as Pyramidal. And there is a chance of a hybrid between any of the them.

I parked behind the old George and Dragon, slung my camera round my neck, and began to climb the rough steps into the wood. At least I was only going up to Temple Ewell Down, not Lydden Down, which would involve a climb three times as far.

In the lower meadow, there was a host, hundreds, of Pyramidals. Something I have not seen before. But despite looking hard, I found no pure white ones, but plenty of light pink.

Up through the second wood and out onto the open downland, I climbed up the cuts made by sheep above the path Seeing plenty of Chalk fragrants on the way.

At the top there is a footpath that goes round the gentle summit in a graceful arc, and on the gently slopes there can be the thousands of Chalk fragrants.

Numbers well down this year, and many already starting to brown off, the CSOs were already just dried spikes, pointing to the sky. A few small Pyramidals were among them, but I saw no obvious hybrids, and with it being humid but cloudy, there were no butterflies on the wing.

Orchids are not the only plants up there. Eyebrights, Scabious, Ox-eye daises, Fairy flax and to my delight, close to the ground, Squinancywort.

I have no idea how to pronounce it either.

So, I turned back down the slope to the pat, through the gate and back down to the lower meadow and to the car.

I drove home, Jools was going to take the car and run chores, while I had a brew and then breakfast.

I spent the morning preparing and baking a Limoncello and Grappa tart, something I make this time every year. It has 12 egg yolks, three punnets of raspberries, ground almonds, zest and juice of three lemons. And the booze too, and is a king among tarts.

As that cooked, I had to go into town for an injection. First in a series of six injections in fact.

My last blood test showed very low levels of vitamin B12, so I have to have injections on three days over two weeks.

I drive to Morrison's, park there and walk to the surgery.

Once I was called, the nurse asked me how I was, then told me the jab would hurt as the dose was like a syrup.

I looked away, she jabbed.

And that was it.

See you in two days, I say.

I walk back to Morrison's, get some ciders for Jools as their offers are so good, then drive back home where Jools had turned the oven off once the tart was cooked.

I sat in the garden to read. Something caught my eye, and there was a pigeon.

It had rings on each foot, and seemed tameish.

It would not fly away, just hung round, walking up and down, pecking at the ground looking for food.

I came inside to look on Google about what to do with a racing pigeon. It said give it food and will probably fly off. as well, approach the bird, slowly, throw a towel over it and read the numbers on the rings and report to the society.

I tried, and freaked the pigeon out with the throwing a towel.

But it came back, so I put some seed out, and it happily pecked and ate.

Problem was that the cats were very interested in it, and tried to catch it several times. Maybe it will fly off after being fed?

Maybe.

We tried a slice of the tart for supper, along with a brew, just for QC purposes. Good news is that it passed the test.

Argentina on the tellybox in the evening, with the boy Messi scoring two more goals.

Rubber Soul (1965)

Rubber sould was released less than four months after Help!

Think about that for a minute.

Having watched the Anthology TV series, its clear that the relentlessness of their schedule, the writing, recording, TV appearances, touring home and overseas, the constant demands must have been wearing. Something that might have been novel in 1963, but three years on, almost unbearable. No time to be themselves, to walk among is aas mere mortals, these were Beatles, Gods of popular music.

And then the pressure for something new.

These were the times when releasing three albums a year was written into contracts, and so artists had to deliver. But on top of that, was the expectations of the whole world: where would The Beatles go and do now?

It was recorded during October, when the band was free of any other commitments, which must have been for the first time in their short career.

The album was preceded by the double A side single, "We Can Work it Out"/ "Day Tripper". "We Can Work it Out" was my entry point into the band, and a single I bought second hand in about 1980, during my heavy metal period.

I no Longer have it.

Side 1.

1. "Drive My Car"
2. "Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)"
3. "You Won't See Me"
4. "Nowhere Man"
5. "Think for Yourself"
6. "The Word"
7. "Michelle"

Side 2.

1. "What Goes On"
2. "Girl"
3. "I'm Looking Through You"
4. "In My Life"
5. "Wait"
6. "If I Needed Someone"
7. "Run for Your Life"

The album's 14 tracks clocks in at a second under 36 minutes. Songs arrive, but never overstay their welcome. "Drive my Car" kicks things off, a familiar Beatles song for sure, but listening to it on this their sixth album, the progression is obvious. Again this is a song that could have been recorded sixty years ago, or sixty hours ago. It has a good beat, twangy guitars, especiall at the end, and Lennon and McCartney's shared vocals. It all seemed so easy. And all songs on the record are penned by either the Fab duo, or my Harrison or with Ringo a joint-writer. Just four months after their last album. And film. Remarkable.

We are so used to eastern musical instruments being played on western pop records, we hardly notice. But what must have it been like to be in 1965 and hear "Norwegian Wood" for the first time, sitar and all? George had taight himself to play after hearing Ravi Shankar, and it complements the accousitic guitar perfectly, and Lennon's vocals. This song is so perfect, I could cry. I could feel emotions rising as it played. I first heard this in 1979 when my friend, owen, brough Beatles Rarities to a house party. It sounded like nothing else then, and still does now.

"You Won't See Me" is the only tack on the record longer than three minutes, and even still, when it does fade, you wish it would carry on for much, much longer. Here's the thing: I thought I would enjoy their earlier material more, but the depth and sophistication of this and the Help! is just mindblowing. You can see how the band and George Martin were now using technology for multi-tracking allowing the band to harmonise with themselved between the vocal and backing track. Again, a modern song, sixty years old.

"Nowhere Man" rolls along next. Familiar and yet stange. A simple song, little over two minutes long, with a simple break before the chorus comes back and fades. We've come a long way in the three yeas since "Love me Do". As perfect as its possible to get, he says before the next banger comes along. I think it has been good to listen to these albums in order, to appreciate how they developed, rather than having an entire body of work to plough through.

"Think for Yourself" is a Harrison penned and sung track, laden with "dirty" guitar. It rattles along. And again, think how it must have been to feel that not only were you the youngest member of the group, third singer and third song-writing too, allowed to have one or two tracks per album.

Next track, "The Word", is as 60s as its possible to be. That organ backing dates it pretty well. Not that its a bad thing, just saying.More layered vocals, trangy guitars. Would have been a hit single for anyone else, here's it's the sixth track on side one.

"Michelle" closes side 1. Paul singing, simple backing track. Pop perfection. I thought I knew the song, heard it a million times, but then just to listen, to appreciate. The yearning in the final verse. My belle.

Side two opens with "What Goes On" co written and sung by Starr. It is a step up from songs on previous albums he sang on. Starr has a good voice, and yet is the worst or fourth best vocalist in the band. But he was the best drummer, so alls good.

"Girl" is a down-tempo tune with Lennon on vocals, a simple strummed backing. Few Beatles songs seem to feature happy relationships, mostly mourn for lost love or love unrequited. Just an observation.

Paul returns to vocals on "I'm Looking Through You", starts with simple accoustic backing, then picks up after the first verse. Twangy guitar and organ features once again. Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight. See what I mean.

"In My Life" has a lyric older than Paul and John's tender years. Another astonishing song, timeless. And beyond my words.

"Wait" has Paul and John on vocals, and clatters along with more jangly guitars. I've been good, as good as I can be, is hardly a ringing endorsement, guys.

13th track is the Harrison written and sang "If I Needed Someone", whch shows a clear direction his writing would lead in the years to come. I would venture to say The Byrds listened to this a few times. This is wonderful, first time I have heard it. Glorious harmonies.

The album closes with "Run for Your Life", not Run for Your Wife, and an altogether scary vibe on this.

The Anthology documentary skipped over Rubber Soul and Revolver period, focussing rather an whole episode on the recording of "Free as a Bird", which is odd. These two albums were hugely influential, and its clear to see why, at least for Rubber Soul. An album showing the band maturing quickly, with Martin's studio techniques struggling to keep up with the ideas.

This is a record showing a band at the peak of their powers, but hints of future glories to come.

Sunday 21st June 2026

Our room at the UJC faced east, so when the sun rose on the summer solstice, it shone into our room.

Maybe not so hot at first, but we woke at just before six after less than six hour's sleep, the view out of the window was sensational.

We have a shower and get dressed, thinking that breakfast was at half six, but being a weekend was an hour later. We sat in the lobby for half an hour until the restaurant was open.

Long gone are the days when you could stay here for less than sixty quid, and have breakfast the next morning for well under a tenner. Breakfast now costs £14.00, but there is lots of it, and unlimited.

We have fruit and yogurt before having a little of the bad fried stuff, and a couple of cups of tea.

We go back up to the room, to discover it now as hot as the surface of the sun, and unbearable.

We pack our few things and leave, deciding a bench on a shady platform would be cool.

Cool is a relative term, of course. We cross the road, go up into the station, then up again so to access Waterloo East.

We had half an hour, but truth is, it was darned hot on the platform too, so much so even the waiting room was hot.

This is London in summer, and the worse thing is that it is going to top forty degrees by Wednesday, and humid with it, so dangerous too.

I was glad to get on the train when it arrived, and found plenty of seats from which to choose.

At London Bridge, half of London got on, getting out of the city for the coast. The train was full, and people standing as well.

As the high speed line was closed, a few "classic" services were "fast", or in NSE terms, semi-fast, only stopping at Tonbridge on our way to Ashford.

Few people got off until we reached Folkestone, then families wit push chairs and bags of stuff for their kids got off.

And more joined us in getting of at Dover, including the German/Japanese couple on our table, who were going to the castle for the afternoon.

How much time is needed to explore the castle, they ased when we said we lived in the town?

At least a day I said

They were young and would nip round double quick I'm sure.

Jen came to collect us from the station as she had an errand to run, so took us back to Whitfield to collect the car. And after some brief chit chat we left in our car for the final leg home, getting inside at just gone eleven.

Obviously the cats claimed not to have been fed, so we gave them some morsels, unpacked and poured an ice cold drink.

Home.

A deep sigh of relief.

Too hot for a brew, so pints of cold juice were poured and enjoyed sitting in the shade of the living room.

It was too hot to cook, so lunch was more cheese and crackers and a beer. Perfect.

The entertainment in the five o'clock kick off was Belgium v Iran, which ended 0-0 and drives another nail through the heart of another golden generation.

Generations should only be called golden if they win something. As with England too.

There was an hour between games, time to partake in #WildflowerHour. post shots and make a few comments before it was kick off in the Spain v Saudi game, with Spain 3-0 up before the first half drinks break, should have gone to bed then, instead I sit up and see just one more Spanish goal.

Rejoin the EU?

Last weekend in London, there was another march in support of the UK rejoining the UK.

And an official from the EU stated that of course the EU wanted the UK to rejoin.

And Michael Barnier suggested that the UK could rejoin on the same terms it left on.

All sound fine.

But.

We must remember the time and cost that the EU spent on Brexit. And the fact that it wasn't just Brexit, but the rejection of decades of European unity that the UK threw in the bin.

I have said this before, that for the UK to be in a position to rejoin, as a nation we must have an honest conversation about what Brexit was, and how much it has cost the country. With people like Farage suggesting still that Brexit wasn't done properly or hard enough, we're clearly not there yet.

And for the EU to be happy to readmit the UK, there would have to be overwhelming political support for rejoining. And with Labour and the Conservatives both against joining the SM or CU, there is no political will for rejoining, regardless for over 60% of voters wanting it, and more supporting closer relations.

There can be no real growth in the economy until there are closer ties.

And the media could hold those responsible for Brexit to account, by going back through interviews and quotes over the last ten years about how Brexit would only have uupsides. Until then, we just go round in circlies, circling the drain of doom.

Saturday 20th June 2026

I first heard of The B52s back in July 1979 when it was featured on BBC's ill-advised reboot of Juke Box Jury. If I remember correctly, it was panned.

And I didn't get it either.

A year later, and Give Me Back my Man was featured on Radio 1's Roundtable.

I loved its driving bass, and Cindy's lead vocal. Years later I found a 7 inch and bought it. Over the years I have grown to love it.

And then in 1983, Song For a Future Generation bewitched me. I bought the 12 inch and played it to death. It was as kitsch as heck, fun and brilliant.

In 1989, their career when through the roof when Cosmic Thing was released, and two singles, Love Shack and Roam were huge global hits.

But never saw them live.

And then a couple of years back they announced their final tour, so I thought I had lost the chance of seeing them perform. But the tour carried on: residencies in Vegas, appearances on TV shows, and a double-headed tour with Devo across America last year was carried on into 2026 with a show at the old Millennium Dome, the O2.

I forgot about the release of the tickets until and hour later, when there were a few of the more expensive seats left. But as Jools liked them too, we stumped up the cash, over £400 for two tickets, but the cost softened by the fact that Lene Lovich and The Rezillos would play on the bill too.

We booked a room at the Union Jack Club, and all we had to do was autumn, winter and spring to pass, and us remember that the gig was on.

As it happened, the O2 and their partners never let me forget as the e mails came tumbling in as the day of the gig approached.

Jen was going to look after the cats, we briefed her on Friday night. So all was set.

We woke up on Saturday as usual at about half five. After the usual chores we went to the gym to do a session as we would miss out on Sunday.

Then back home for breakfast, a brew and a shower, so we could leave the house just before ten to go to Jen's where we would leave the car then catch the electric bus into town to the station.

We briefed Jen some more, and she was happy. So we left her and Sylv and walked to the bus stop at the end of her street, and on time was the bus.

It took us via Richmond Park, Tesco and the two new roads and overbridge down past the castle and round the town before dumping us off at the station. Buses are time to link up with the main London trains.

We bought our ticket to Waterloo East, then sat on the platform to wait.

It was a glorious day, sunny and a light wind, enough that it was cooling.

Though when the train left the portal of Harbour Tunnel, we were greeted with fog, which had just rolled in.

It cleared by the time we got to Folkestone, so after that it was a trundle up through the Kent countryside through Ashford, Tonbridge, Sevenoaks along the UK's longest piece of straight line, and through long tunnels in the North Downs and into suburbia.

We got out at Waterloo East, where it didn't feel hot. Warm, but again with a breeze.

Up the slope and down the side exit onto Waterloo Road, with the station's latticed glass frontage in front of us. Over the road, and then along until we came to the junction, where a GSV search had revealed a gastro-pub, two sushi restaurants, several pizza places, and a Cuban place.

That sounded interesting, so we went there.

Jools had pulled beef, and I ordered pulled pork. Both came with beans, rice and plantain.

We both had a cocktail, and me a beer. Then waited for the food to arrive.

Not as spicy as expected, though the beef had better flavour.

We walked back to the Union Jack Club, as our room should have been ready for three. We were twenty minutes early, so were told that could we wait for quarter of an hour?

We could.

So, we retired to the bar, where the rugby was just beginning, the final between Exeter and Northampton. As it started, it became clearer that there aren't rules as such, players tackle each other, ruck and mauls form, and sometimes the referee blows, sometimes not. Two players were carried off within ten minutes with serious leg injuries, while the game carried on round them.

We went back to reception, got our key, so went up to the 18th floor. We had views over Waterloo West and to the City and St Pauls beyond. I spent half an hour watching trains arriving and departing, before snoozing for an hour.

At five we got our stuff together, and walked from the UJC to Waterloo, then down two sets of escalators down to the Jubilee Line to catch a train for the six stops to North Greenwich.

The train was pretty full, but we got seats. And sadly, for a railway completed in the 1970s, its trains do not have air conditioning. But as I wrote that, I realise that the 1970s were not last decade, but 50 years ago!

We go to the surface, where there was a nice cooling breeze blowing, making it much fresher than expected.

We went to a small Sainsbury's to get a sandwich and drink, then sat outside eating and people watching, as it was a target rich environment.

Doors opened at six, so we walk to the O2 arena, and joined the line to get through security, then up another escalator to the first concourse, where there was food, drink and merchandise, but at prices you would not believe!

A thin t shirt would cost you £49, and a pint of lager in a plastic glass would rip you off £9.50.

There were queues at all sections, with those doors not opening until half six.

It was hot and humid, as it would be in the arena. When they let us in.

At seven we were let in, and our seats were three rows from the front in posh seats that kind of reclined but also had holders for drinks. Maybe they had a tad more legroom.

But being one block along from the side of the stage meant we had great views. And as we sat, familiar tunes played as the final touches were made to the stage for the first turn.

I have written about Lene Lovich before. I first heard Lucky Number whilst staying with a family friend in Leytonstone. She was on one of the London magazine news shows, and I loved the song, even if it was unconventional, and her more so.

It was a huge hit, but she couldn't really follow it up, though New Toy and Say When did trouble the top forty.

The mixing desk had all settings turned up to 11, and it was loud.

LOUD.

Adjustments were made, and it was better. Lene came out covered in a metallic shawl, but after the first song took it off.

Being bottom of the bill they did a short set, maybe six songs, and s played to a half empty arena. But Lucky Number obviously got a good reception, and the band did at the end of their set, with Lene overcome by the great reception.

A half hour wait while roadies clear one quarter of the equipment from the stage, and then Scotland's Rezillos took the stage, bloody loud too.

The band are best know for a punk-pop hit, Top of the Pops, but are so much more than that, having supported The Ramones in 1977 and themselves having played CBGB's too at that time.

The two singers, Faye Fife and Eugene stalk the stage. Eugene, with a huge leather jacket making him look like a small ogre growing at the audience when Faye was singing.

They have new material out in the autumn, and did a couple of tracks from that as well as the better know songs. And were gone after little more than half an hour, leaving us with our ears ringing.

Next up were Devo.

Devo, I thought I knew from Jocko Home, Whip It and a few other tracks, but bloody hell, they took the stage and grabbed the night by the throat and did not let go.

Incessant beats, driving bass lines, and angular guitars, while well thought out graphics played out on the large screen behind.

There was barely a pause between songs, and their sheer brilliance had me won over very quickly.

There was a pause, then they came back without keyboards to cover their earlier work, and again battered us into submission.

No doubt one of the top five gigs I have seen. And such a surprise. Devo are still brilliant, maybe better than they ever have been.

See them now!

And so to the main act, from Athens, GA: The B52s.

Only three original members left now, and the vocals of Cindy Wilson didn't seem to be a clear as before.

That aside, it was a party night, lots of huge, fun-filled tunes, songs from all periods of their career. As before, the huge screen behind them showed graphics and clips of videos from their career, thus showing how old they are now.

Fred isn't so mobile, and at one point sit on the drum riser as the Cindy and Kate took lead vocals on at least two songs back to back.

We got Roam, then Love Shack and an encore of Rock Lobster. And was done.

Huge cheers died down as the house lights came up.

Refreshment proces were so high, we did not eat or drink since we joined the queue at six, so after climbing up to the concourse, then down onto the main floor of the O2, we traipsed round, but saw a pub open, playing B52s tunes loudly.

In order to let the queues at the Underground station die down, we stopped for a beer/coder, but after paying I found that Budvar was off, so got a pint of La Chouffe for the same price!

That went down well.

After downing that, we walked across the plaza to the tube station, then down to the platforms where hundreds were waiting for the next train. But we all got on, though it was like an oven on board.

Six stops later we get off the crowded train, and make our way back to street level, over Waterloo Road and back inside the club.

I went to the bar for a night cap, a large Glenmorangie, at quarter to midnight. On the large screen TV the Germany game had just finished, so I took the rest of the wee dram up to the room, and from the room window looked out over the city scape towards The City.

It was still hot.