Tuesday 9th June 2015

Monday

You know, despite it being June and summer and all that, at times its not been too warm. Even with the sun shining all day like it did Monday, one the sun moved round in the afternoon and the back of the house fell into shade, it go chilly. I mean, really.

Working from home and all the stuff that entails. Jools goes to work, leaving me with the cats, but they sleep. Breakfast and coffee. Mid-morning cuppa and a slice of toast. Lunchtime omelette. Working from home seems to mean I am always hungry, and there being so much food around. Sigh.

I get confirmation that I am needed to travel at the end of the week. Somewhere new for me, but for now I will keep it secret, except to says its wonderful, wonderful.....

I make bread in the afternoon: leaving out the cayanne pepper for once, as we are to have it with Insalata Caprese, so I kneed it, leave it to rise on the windowsill of the kitchen wondow where with the sun on it, it was lovely and warm. An hour later and the sun had moved round, shadow now hung over the dough, and it had failed to rise. So, emergency action, warm the over and have it on minimum heat, and leave it for an hour. And there we had lovely puffy rolls ready to be baked.

Whilst in the kitchen, I notice a couple of birds eating the seeds of the knapweed a few feet from the back door: I see they are Goldfinches, so after thinking they would fly away if I went for my camera; some ten minutes later they are still there, and so I rattle off 50 shots and get a couple of OK shots.



Jools comes home, and the bread is cool enough to eat, I cut the tomatoes, slice the cheese and we are ready to go once the plates have been drizzled with oil. It may look like summer outside, but the breeze has got up, so we put the heating on(!) and decide not to go out for a walk.

It is the last week of Springwatch, always a joy, but the three weeks of it this seem seem a little much, but then there is so much joy in watching nature, even in an urban river, let along wild otters in the Shetlands.

Monday 8th June 2015

Sunday

We wake up at half six with sun pouting in through the gaps in the curtains. Another glorious late spring/summer day. Not sure when it changes, but I am pretty sure that in England the 1st June is the first day of summer, but then on days like this who cares?

Matt woke up at seven, and after we all had breakfast, he got into his lycra, buckled his shoes to his bike, and set off for Sandwich where his ride was due to begin. I waved him off, then we got ourselves ready for our own trip out. It is peak orchid season; there are so many sites it is impossible to get round them all, and so we go to some only when we are sure the orchids are out that I want to see. Our destination is a former transport site in East Kent, which after three decades of being abandoned has now been reclaimed by nature, and in places there are orchids. Huge and splendid orchids.



The roads were quiet, so the trip over was nice enough. After parking the car, we walk down onto the site, then try to remember where all the orchids were: there are Bee, Southern Marsh and the very yellow Man. We walked over to the edge of the site, and soon enough I found the first of the Bee spikes. A little further on I found more and more. Just over the old road that separates two groups of Bee, I saw a crouching figure in a leather hat. I knew that man, it was my orchid finding friend, Jim from Sussex.



I walk over, and we swap news on what we have been doing over the past two weeks. We carry on snapping the Bees, Jools then comes over to say she had found the two colonies of Southern Marsh. So she takes Jim off to show him and I carry on snapping. There are butterflies in abundance: Painted Ladies, Common Blues, Adonis Blues, Holly Blues and a Small Blue: I get shots of the Small Blue and the Holly Blue, very happy we walk back to the car, via the Southern Marsh orchids, which are still pushing up their spikes, but some had started to flower.



We drive a short distance to the neighbouring site, where more orchids can be found: Southern Marsh, Common Spotted and Leopard Marsh. Many were still putting up spikes, but deep in the site there was an area of all three orchids, and various hybrids to see and snap. Including one Leopard some 28 inches tall, a monster of an orchid. Sadly, further along there was a meadow that in previous years had been the richest are of orchids, but after walking down to it, I found three horses in it, and just about all orchids had been eaten: Southern Marsh, Leopards and Bees, all gone. I was stunned, but I hope the site will recover next year, if the horses are moved.



It was very warm by now, and nudging towards lunchtime, so with the fridge full back home, we walk back to the car then tootle home via the main roads.

We were so warm, and even had a touch of sunburn, so we ate inside, then chilled for a couple of hours, me reviewing my shots of course, before we went back out. This time to visit Nan.



Nan is three months shy of her 101st birthday, but can hardly see, her hearing is very bad now, and so just lays in the bed staring at the ceiling for hours on end. She is finding it hard to tell reality apart from her dreams, which seem so real to her. Needless to say, she is disturbed by these, the most vivid of which was walking to a beach to find it full of bodies from a sunken cruise liner, and the bodies asking her if she wanted to join them in death.



As ever the home is short staffed, and although the staff do their best, there is not enough, but they try to make Nan comfortable, but at three grand a month, it might be cheaper to stay at the Ritz.

Back home we have ice cream and a cuppa. I had discovered at half twelve that England were playing the Republic of Ireland (at football) that day. Even more surprising was that it was to kick off at one. It was just a friendly, and so not really important, and I decided I could not be bothered to watch. And therefore it comes as no surprise to find it ended a 0-0 draw.

Afternoon turned into evening. The shadows lengthened, and the temperature dipped sharply. We sat outside for a while, before the chill drove is inside for dinner; cold breaded aubergine and pasta salad. It took two minutes to prepare, and so tucked into a fine meal, and perfect on a summer evening.

Sunday 7th June 2015

Saturday

We woke up at five in the morning, with the sun already up and shining brightly through the gaps in the curtains. In addition, the seagulls on the roof were making a right racket, as were the magpies, clearly unhappy with the lack of food out in the front garden. OK< it might not have been five, but it felt early. Very early. I have just checked the sunrise time and found that it was before five, therefore I was not imagining being awake so early.

Does this mean I am not losing my memory and going mad? That is impossible to say, but that just 36 hours later, I cannot recall such details might be a worry. Or not. As long as I remember who I am and the recipe for ice, I will be fine.

There were some chores to be run first: the very first one, well after feeding the cats, making coffee, getting dressed and so on, was to take Molly to the vet for her annual MOT and jabs so she can stay at the cat hotel when we go on our holibobs, now less than four weeks away! Now, Molly is a clever cat, she senses unusual things, so there is no messing: grab Molly and lock her in the bathroom, and keep her there until half eight when we load her into the cat basket, then after dressing our wounds, one of us takes her to the vet.

So, it fell to Jools to do the dirty deed, and I laid in bed I heard Jools carrying Molly up the stairs, with Molly making a right fuss, spitting and hissing. But the bathroom door was locked with Molly behind it, that was the hard part done. Or, until we have to load the hissing, spitting ball of fur into the cat basket. We have breakfast, more coffee, then donning oven gloves and other protective clothing, we go to the bathroom with the basket, and between us we get Molly into the basket. It was easy, as clearly she saw our preparations and realised resistance was futile.

Jools went to the vets, and I cleared up, watered the garden, checked on my camera batteries.

Once back, we then made plans for the day: as Jools had a barnet wrangling appointment in town, and I had to be in Faversham to meet a friend to do some orchid chasing. It was agreed I would drop Jools off at the top of Langdon Hole and she would walk into town, and get the bus back. Whilst I would drive to Faversham to meet Mark.

It was a glorious day, at least on the coast, sun shone from a clear blue sky. Further north as I went round Canterbury, clouds rolled in a little, but it was still a wonderful day. I waited for Mark at the petrol station, taking the time to top up the tanks, and I was hoping for an ice cream, but the garage did not have a freezer, so I went without. Sobs.

Once Mark turned up, he told me the direction to go, so we set off up the M2 towards the Medway towns, before turning off down another busy road, over three or so roundabouts, and parking outside a transport company, where there were severe warnings for unauthorised parking, we grabbed our gear and walked down the path to the reserve. In fact, I do not know if it was a reserve, but it is fenced off, but little visited judging by the faint paths winding their way through deep undergrowth. After only a few yards we came to the first of what we had come to see: an Early Marsh Orchid.



What separates one species form another seems, at least to me, to be a little arbitrary, and as all orchids from this family like to inter-breed and produce hybrids, and finally as there are six very different sub-species in the Early Marsh, telling one from another or to what is a hybrid is tricky. Mark helped out, pointing out what was clearly an Early Marsh, the next few were harder. Then came some Southern Marsh, some Leopard Marsh, and some others which could be, well, who knows. We snapped them all, or most of them. A wonderful site, but one under threat, as Common Spotted were showing here for the first time, maybe a hint that the site is drying out?



So where to now? Well, Late Spiders can be a bugger to snap, it has to be in sunshine, like most orchids, to get the colours accurate. So, as Mark had never been to one of the lesser known and hard to find sites, we set off for Ashford.

The site is at the foot of a large down, more of a large hill really. And in an un-marked part of a minor road, there is a small space big enough for a car. Through the five bar gate, and round a corner there is a dell, and on one side there are the spikes. They are smaller here than the ones I saw on Friday, but the site is less visited, and less trampled. It is wonderful.



I see a Broad Bodied Chaser land on a branch in front of me, but leave again as I raise my camera. We walk to the orchids, marked with cages. Most have just one flower open, a couple have two. But the colours are so vivid. We spend half an hour there, taking shots in the sunshine, and waiting whilst the clouds passed over. As Mark takes shots, I watch a Kestrel hunting above us, dropping dwon in steps before falling to the ground and grabbing some small rodent and flying away again.

So, we had our shots. But the thought of the single pure white Lady meant that we would be heading to the old stamping ground at Barham. I really don't mind to be honest, as it has really opened up now and is at its best. In addition there are the Lesser Butterfly of course.

As ever, there is no one else about, first of all we go to look at the white Lady: we were going to look at what else was open, but as I have searched most of the site now, I am sure there was just the usual Twayblade, Lady and Fly. I am hoping for others in due course. Up the bridleway once more, more huffing and puffing. But once at the top, the spikes become visible, and looking wonderful in the deep shade, like little white ghosts.



As we go into the wood to check on the two largest examples, I hear a noise, and about 50m away through the trees, I see two adult badgers snuffling about. We stand and watch them for a few minutes, they were unaware of us, we didn't take shots, as they were too far away. So, we took ourselves back down the hill to the car.

Mark had promised me a pint, and so in the village we stopped at the pub, and Timothy Taylor was one tap, which was good enough for me. And Mark. We retired to the beer garden with our pints and packs of nuts. A perfect end to the day.

It was now four, and I had to take Mark home in Faversham, then drive home. But as the road passes the prime Birds Nest and White Helleborine site: why not stop?



Indeed. THere was a sports car parked at the entrance to the wood, so I pulled up behind, and there was a chap snapping the orchids too. We passed the time of day, and I went to snap the Helleborine. And wonderfully, a few plants had the moths of their flowers open, showing the yellow inside: the first time I had ever seen this. I snapped away, and happy with a job done, I went back to the car and drove home.



I had an hour before the next item of the day: the arrival of our friend Matt who was going to stay the night, as he had a cycle ride to attend in Deal the next morning. And who am I to refuse a request from a lycra-clad cyclist? Only joking. Always a pleasure to have guests. After asking if he could stay, his next question was would we be watching the Champions League Final.

It seems we would.

I had prepared pasta salad that morning, Jools and I made breaded aubergine, then I cooked three rib-eye steaks, all ready for just after Matt arrived so we could watch the game.

Barca v Juventus: should have been a great game, but with Barca tapping the ball around, Juve hardly got a look in in the first half. Barca scored after 3 minutes, but could have had half dozen by half time. 2nd half, Juve equalised, but then conceded a second, and a third with the last kick of the game. The right team won, but all the rolling around with imaginary injuries really began to grate.

We went outside to watch the stars come out and drink whisky. Ending like all good days should, really.

Saturday 6th June 2015

Friday

And now time to fight the IT monster.

See, we have some problems with IT: I can't remember the last time all systems worked correctly. Thursday had seen me give up as almost everything had failed. Friday morning most seemed to work, but to balance that out, it was a bank holiday in Denmark, so no one was in work over the pond, meaning that for the most part, once I had updated project documents, updated targets, answered mails and the such. That was it.

I had taken Jools to work, picking up one of her colleagues on the way too, dropping them off at the factory in Hythe, before rushing back to get work done. I battled through the school run, trucks and lorries heading to the port. And back home. Make a fresh pot of strong coffee and get down to work.

By one, I had caught up, and I saw all my contacts were away, not in the office, having a bbq or down the pub. So, I switched the computer off and went out.



First port of call was to see the mutant Late Spider Orchid which I had seen on a Faceache group the night before. I went to the most well known site, and after parking the car, walked down the footpath to find the orchid site very trampled and flattened. However, the mutant was right in front, and easy to photograph. But I did notice there were far fewer spikes than last year: maybe it is early for this season, as the early spring was cooler. Who knows, but there were maybe a dozen spikes, but one was magnificent: tall and with four open flowers, it was the perfect Kent Late Spider, and I snapped that good.



I really wanted to see A Greater Butterfly, so went to one of the most well-known sites, where I knew there were a few examples. It is still recovering from the trampling it has received over winter from the grazing cattle, and despite looking close, I saw no Musk Orchid Spikes, but the Moneky are at their peak, although I have snapped them as much as I need to these past three years. At the back of the site there were about a dozen Greater Butterfly spikes, most at least half fully open, and in the bright sunshine, they shone with a golden inner light.





The single Lady, a downland rarity, was also at its peak so I snapped that too. I even managed to pick out a small Fly on the walk back to the car too. And in the end, the lure of the Monkey meant I took yet more shots of a fully open flowering spike.

By now, clouds had begun to gather, and I thought I could hear faint rumbles of thunder in the distance. I dashed up the valley to Barham and the Lesser Butterfly site, as I know from last week's visit in the torrential downpour, more of the flowers would be open.



I parked the car, and walked once again up the steep bridleway, huffing and puffing, and swearing under my breath about how unfit I was. And right on the edge of the path, as it levelled out was the first spike. Clouds had now covered the sky, and there more than a hint of rain in the air. I tried to get shote, but it was dark. I did better the spikes further in the woods, including a good shot of an open flower, showing the difference between it and a Greater. Perfect.



I am still curious as to hwat might come in the main site, so walked over to where it started, and I had just reached the white Lade, when there was a loud crack of thunder, and rain began to fall. I could hear it on the canopy of leaves above at first, but in 30 seconds or so, it began to fall onto the forest floor. I had no desire to get soaked, so packed the camera away and makde my way back to the car.

More thunder, more lightning. And the rain began to fall, but never in a heavy downpour style, but looking at my watch I saw I had half an hour to get to pick up Jools and then the weekend would start.

I parked opposite the playing field, where there is a back gate from the factory, where Jools would soon be coming through. On the radio yet more details of the FIFA scandal were being made known: the surprise is, not that it happened, but how FIFA got away with it for so long. And that is the real scandal.

Once Jools arrived, we drove out into the rush hour traffic, but heading up through Saltwood to Sandling before picking up the motorway at the bottom of Stone Street and then to Capel, past the venue for our wedding, through the town centre and finally via the cliff road to St Margaret's, with the sky behind us, as black as night as it seemed a storm was on the way. But it never did throw down more than a few large raindrops.

Needless to say, all three cats were waiting, all demanding to be fed. NOW. I cooked a simple meal of boiled Jersey Royals, fish cakes and sweetcorn, followed by stawberries and cream. Simple but good. And the Kentish strawberries were fine indeed.

To end the day, after The Don, was a fine BBC show on the Old Grey Whistle Test, which featured a fine clip of Bowie and The Spiders From mars doing a live version of Queen Bitch, which was note perfect, and Dave n Mick's harmonies were perfect. I could watch it over and over again.

Friday 5th June 2015

Wednesday

And like magic, when I opened the curtains, the clouds had gone, and the sun was shining brightly from an almost clear blue sky. That raised a smile on my face.

I shower, pack then go down to check out, load the car and then go back inside for breakfast. The hotel is busy, and I find the last free table. Looking around there is the usual mix of holidaymakers and working types. The non-workers seemed to be all wearing flip flops, and why not? Playing over the loudspeakers is the same CD as last time I stayed here. I left before Joni Mitchel started singing again.

This was to be a grand day, a grand day in that I had arranged all the technicians on site in Esbjerg to have cake, and I would make a speech. In front of 80 people. From someone who used to clam up in front of two teachers during an English oral exam. A big test for me.

And I thought that would be the highlight of a quiet day. Shame then that the project I have been asked to assist on is ramping up quick, and it seems that my presence will be required for three meetings before our holiday. So yet more travelling, and those long dreamed of two weeks at home now seem as far away as they did in the dark days of February. I have an endless stream of mails to deal with, and yet more contract obligations to get straight in my head.

It seems the day and my work life is careering out of control. Again.



One o'clock comes round, and the two large cakes arrive: I help move them to the office, and then to the meeting room. At two the technicians, supervisors and managers file in, wanting me to say as little as possible so they can eat cake. So, I cough, say thanks for all the work they did, how quick they did it, and to the highest quality. And now, please eat! The sound of eighty chairs being scraped on the floor as they made to queue up, and the two site assistants cut the cakes and dished out generous portions to all. Including me.



With all work having been done on our project, the guys began to leave, so, with my work up to date, well, as much as I could do, I left too. Driving through the late afternoon sunshine in my sporty Audi. VROOM. I have all the windows down, and cruise along, it is good to be alive. And I am going home in the morning.



I drop the car off, check into the hotel, then go for burger and fries in the terminal. As usual. Despite not having much to eat through the day, the meal filled me up, and I cannot finish my beer. Bad boy.

I spend the evening answering more mails, listening to the radio and watching a re-run of the 2005 Champions League Final, where Liverpool came from 3-0 down at half time to draw level then win on penalties. I have not seen any of it since the night of the game, and in truth, Liverpool were not very good in the first half, and deserved to be at least 3 down, and should have conceded a 4th, but the move broke down. They came back well, but the Milan keeper had a bit of a mare. But hey, they won. Although I did not sit up to watch the extra time and penalties, bed was calling.

Thursday.

I am woken by the alarm at a quarter to six. The sun is already up and shining brightly the other side of the curtains. I open them and am nearly blinded by the bright sunshine. On the right below, people are already filing up steps onto planes for the first flights of the day. I have two and a half hours to fill before my flight.

I do the usual stuff, then drop the key off and go to the cafe for breakfast. It is more like a canteen, but cereal and two coffees is great and makes me up. The walk over to the terminal is only 5 minutes, but the airport have decided to let the grassed areas grow, and it looks like wild seeds were scattered, as among the long grass were a wide array of flowers, all looking stunning in the early morning sunshine. I stop to take a couple of shots, it was so good.



I check in my case, go through security, and take an empty table under the business lounge so I can use their internet connection; my laptop has remembered the password. More mails to answer, more work to do. And I seem to be up to date again. Danes are off to the sun, men in flip flops and shorts are drinking huge glasses of beer at half seven in the morning. Well, they are on holiday but it would still be too early for me.

At eight I walk to the gate, and once the previous flight had left, we were allowed on our plane. Once again it was full, but I have a single seat on the left hand side, so I get to see the usual landmarks pass below us. Out over the islands off the Danish coast, crossing over north Holland, then down the coast before striking out over the sea, and over the windfarm. I snap it and see that the 39th turbine is just being completed, which means four to do and that phase will also be completed.



Across the Essex coast, over Southend, Gravesend and round the southern suburbs of London to Crystal Palace, a sharp turn to starboard, and again over Battersea, along the river, over Buckingham Palace, Blackfriars, The Barbican and The City, one after the other. I take shots, not sure if any will come out.



Down we go, looking at my watch I see I have an hour to get to Stratford to get my flight, plenty of time to get through immigration, get my case, catch the train and have a coffee. Which is what I do, and by ten fifteen I am sitting above the station, sipping a gingerbread latte and munching on a hot sausage roll. Perfect.



Waiting on the platform, I hear the roar of an approaching Eurostar, and it thunders through at something like 150 mph. It is an impressive sight for sure. Our train rolls in, it is half full, but I get a seat with no problem, and settle back as we head under London, then out into Essex, under the river and into Kent. Nearly home.



Here is a taxi waiting, but the driver can barely speak English. No, that is hard, but he does not know the area well, and I argue with him to the quickest way to St Margaret's. He goes along London Road, then along Cherrytree before doubling back and going up Connaught Hill. This took ten minutes which could have been saved by going straight up Castle Hill. Once home he agrees to knock a couple of quid off, which is just as well and a tenner was all I was going to give him.

The sun is out, it is warm. And I am home.

I open the back door, whistle and no cat comes running. At all. So I take my cases inside, put on the kettle and brew up.

About half an hour later, Molly comes in. Meow? I guess she wants food. Although she gets a hug too, she is still purring as I hold her.

Back to work, answer more mails that have come in and do some admin that has been piling up for over a week.

That done, it is nearly four, I have been on the go since 5 UK time, so I call it a day, grab my camera, walking boots and go for a stroll, hoping to find some butterflies in the glade.



The countryside is a lush shade of green. A healthy shade of green, a green that screams fresh growth and a bumper harvest to come. Where a few weeks ago, the path over the fields was a line of green through bare earth, now it is overshadowed by the beans growing on either side. Looking back, there is green in the heat haze stretching back to the radar towers at Swingate.



I am sure there should be butterflies, I walk up and down but see none. And then I see a pair of small brown: but they are really blues, Brown Argus, and they are joined in their dance by a Common Blue. I spend 15 minutes chasing them, waiting for them to settle. I get the Brown Argus, then as I am leaving, the Common Blue basks in the afternoon sun and I get him. Happy with the result, I walk back.



No cooking for me that night: Jools was bringing back fish and chips, and all I had to do was make the tea and butter some bread.



She arrives home at six, with the smell of the fried food following her. It is wonderful, and straight from the newspaper. Lovely.



We catch up on news, have a shower, have a coffee. The evening slips away. We sit on the patio as dusk falls, waiting for the bats to come out and catch the moths and bugs about. They arrive and wheel and tumble chasing after the insects. Stars come out one by one and darkness falls.

Thursday 4th June 2015

Monday.

Back to the working week. And here I am all alone at home, with the wind blowing outside and the cats not wanting to go out. In fact the sun is shining, but although June is usually considered summer, it feels like March with that wind. The hedge is blown about, and is falling to pieces, we are thinking how to repair it.

The day pans out as usual, answer mails, attend meetings, answer more mails, attend more meetings. There is a pattern here. Lunchtime comes round, I have ham sandwiches. All exciting stuff I think you’ll agree.

And then to the afternoon. More of the same, really. Only, I am thinking of my travels which start again on Tuesday, heading back to the frozen wastes of Denmark. I doubt summer has reached there either. How right I was.

By the time Jools gets back it is gone six, I cook breaded chicken and lentil dahl, which I wash down with Mocha beer, which is wonderful even if I say so myself. I pack, have a shower then sit down to watch Springwatch. And somehow, the day has passed.

Tuesday.

Storms at this time of year are rare. So, with travelling to Denmark, I have to make sure the trains are running and the planes are flying. Twitter makes this the only place I need to check, and all seems well. Even if the flight will probably be lumpy bumpy. At least I am only away for two days, back on Thursday, and for the most part this trip is a celebration and I will be thanking my team in Esbjerg and the technicians there too. I will have to make a public speech, and every time I think about it, I am reminded of Blackadder.

Jools drops me off at the station, and with the wind howling and rain in the air, it feels like autumn at least. I pay for my ticket, and leaving the other passengers sheltering under the awning, I stand at the end of the platform, letting the wind blow the cobwebs from my brain. It does wake me up.

The train arrives and I get a seat, which is always the case heading out, before all the people pile on in Dover and Folkestone. Indeed, it is just about standing room only by the time we leave Folkestone, and many people standing after Ashford. But before then, as we trundle along the remains of Dover Town Yard, the waves are crashing onto Shakespeare Beach, showering the train with fine spray.

On the train, people are sitting in groups of friends, or otherwise eyes focused on phones or tablets, watching some TV shows or playing games. The glorious countryside glides by, observed only by me.

In London, children are back to school, so the train fills up quickly, as the cross east London, collecting folks and dropping them off a couple of stations later. At the airport, not being a Monday, it is quite empty. However, there are only queues at the first class desk, much to the annoyance of the rich bloke next to me,a s I check in my bags before he does. What can I say, bloke?

I have just half an hour before my flight, so no time for a proper sit down breakfast, so I have a coffee and a baguette. It is no surprise that my flight is delayed, as the flight from Denmark has been flying into the wind, so it would take longer. In the end, we are half an hour late taking off. Which is fine as I have no pressing meetings to attend once I arrive.

We enter cloud as we pass over the Millennium Dome, and do not see the ground until we are skimming over the Danish farmland on final approach. As expected it was lumpy on tack off, and the landing was very bumpy, but we touch down very gently, safe and sound. On leaving the plane, I thanks the pilot, as it was some good flying to touch down in those conditions.

Outside, there are near gale force winds, and the rain is horizontal. This is Denmark in June!

I am given an Audi A3 at the car hire place. Which makes this a good day. I walk through the gale to the car park, find the car, load up, climb in and switch the engine on . VROOM it goes. So I pump the gas pedal a couple of more time for effect.

The drive to Esbjerg, even in the Audi, was not a pleasant one; the rain fell, lorries threw up spray, and it was with some relief when I turned onto the motorway for the final few miles into town. Since I was last here, the trees have grown leaves, and even in the teeth of the storm, it looks springlike, and less brown than last time I was here.

Arrival at the office is like meeting old friends, as that is who works here; old friends. We chat, have coffee and I deal with the mails that have come in during the day.

Outside the weather was still wild, which meant there was no work going on outside at all, and people were heading home early for once. I joined them, driving to the hotel a few hundred yards away, and for a change there were spaces in the car park. I check in and have a room on the 3rd floor. I see they have tried to brighten the place up, but then there are bare wires leading into two of the light fittings, and the 70s radio/clock is still in place on the wall.

The rain still hammered down.

But at six, when it was time for me to walk to the restaurant, it had stopped. Which is good for me as I had no waterproof coat, just a hat. As I neared Butchers, the name of the restaurant, the heavens opened, and so I ran to the door and was dry inside.



Butchers is a meat-based restaurant, which comes as no surprise to anyone. But is very good, and a tad expensive, but I have got the quality team together for a celebration to say thanks for all the hard work they have done. It was rib-eyes all round, which was glorious, but die to the others driving, we had the one beer, and once we had eaten, the others left and I walked back to the hotel.

And that was the day, outside it had stopped raining, but over the docks I could see the lagoon was all white horses. I was so tired, with the news of Sepp Blatter’s resignation coming in, I went to bed. Maybe, not all was wrong with the world after all.

Monday 1st June 2015

Sunday.

And on the day of rest, the heavens did open, and rain fell upon the dusty earth and turned all in creation to mud.

So we rested.

After the travel of the previous day, we slept in until half seven, as apparently seagulls don't like rain and did not sit on our roof and squawk: who knew?

We had breakfast, I put to TV on to watch the FA Cup Final. I only knew the score, so was hoping for some fireworks, maybe some red cards, fights, dodgy decisions or some other interesting stuff. When in fact Arsenal were in control from start until the end. Although they played well, it was dull stuff for the most part. Arsenal scored a couple of good gals, and ran out winners without really breaking sweat. Villa manager Tim Sherwood scowled on the sidelines, and later stated that Villa had a losing mentality. It was their third loss on the bounce, 11 goals conceded and one scored.

I sat at the computer, read lots of stories relating to the play off win. Then watched the highlights again. Twice.

The rain fell outside, if anything, harder.

We had lunch: bacon butties followed by cream cakes we got on the way home the day before.

And then more messing about on the computer, followed the Rangers game on the BBC website.

The rain carried on falling.

But then it stopped. I went outside, did some pruning, killed some snails on the apple tree.

It began to rain again. I went inside.

Jools went to visit Nan, Dad called: a fox got his chickens. His fault really, he left them out of the coop one night, the fox demolished a very sturdy fence in the compound to get them.

And that is it, really. The clouds did clear at the end of the day, and we were bathed in a soft golden light as the sun went down. And once the full moon rose, it was slightly diffused by some high cloud. Outside an owl hooted mournfully. Do owls hoot any other way? I suspect not.

I took no shots all day, then we ended the day with some English Majik with Jonathon Strange and Mr Morrell.