Lawnmeadow: June

June is where the promise of spring is fulfilled.

May is all about daisies and dandelions, and inbetween green shoots of the next flowers to emerge, and June is when they explode into life and colour.

After a break of two years thanks to the construction of the path and beds meant that we haven't had much red clover. But 2021 we had clover, and that means next year there'll be even more.

Two patched create a carpet, well more of a rug really. But insects live the tiny flower heads, with each spindle being an indevidual flower.

Kidney Vetch is another favourite of our native pollinators, and one monte there isn't any, next there are hundreds of plants.

Just about everything uses Kidney Vetch as a food and larval plant, but it quickly fades.

The tiny yellow stars of Herb Benet made their debut in the meadow, growing in the shadow of the easterly hedge, another new species for the garden.

And among the much more numerous Bulbous Buttercups, a few spikes of the taller, more slender Meadow Buttercups also arrived for the first time. This one was over two feet high.

Then on June 6th, Jools came running in to announce that she had found an orchid in the back garden. Could it be true?

Yes it could.

At first I thought it was a Common Fragrant, but a fried correctly ID'd it as a Pyramidal.

Still, happy with that.

And as the days and weeks went by, I recorded its progress. This weekend coming it should reach its peak, the pyramid shape turning into a cone.

Last year I bought some Corncockle seeds. Corncockle is a flower that used to florish on the edges of corn fields, but herbicides meant it has all but become extict in the countryside, but I fancied some, so sowed a packet last September, and by the middle of the month, the first flowers were opening.

In the formal beds, we een had some native invaders as a few Stinking Iris appeared and were quite happy there. We let them be for this summer at least.

This was the scene on the 21st as rain hammered down, meaning even more plants and flowers were sure to grow.

More Corncockles opened among the Ox Eyed Daisies.

We have great drifts of Ox Eyes Daisies, many of great heigt, over two feet, and flowers that have last three weeks, and magnets for bees.

Meanwhile, the Corncockle thrived in greater numbers. And two Musk Mallows appeared, doubling the number from last year.

And so July is round the corner, with one final flush of colour before all goes to seed and then it will be time to harvest the hay.

And the cycle will begin again

Tuesday 29th June 2021

In the Pacific North West, temperature records are being broken, while here in east Kent we have had fog, a cool breeze and much rain. Not very June-like at all.

At least on Tuesday the fog had mostly gone, and sometimes the clouds parted and so a shot or ten could be rattled off.

Which made up for the torture that work is, nothing works once again, and I sit looking at the fact Outlook had not updated for over 24 hours. Again.

My colleague, Henrik, told me he had the same problem, and he had the instructions on how to fix it. Apparently, as the two companies IT systems merge, the fact we have two profiles, certificates and so on on one laptop causes just too much confusion. The simple answer was to delete the MVOW Outlook account, then instal the new one.

This did mean having to restart Outlook over and over again until I was able to complete each step of the process, until I had Outlook that wasn't linked to any accounts at all. I had no mails, no calendar and no contacts. Then came the linking the new account, and wait while 11 and a half years mails downloaded.

I made breakfast, another coffee. Read a magazine.

Two hours passed, and the initial actions had taken another hour. Half the day was gone already.

I have lunch and hope I would get my enthusiasm back.

I didn't, but I did attend meetings, took notes and sounded like I knew what I was talking about. Maybe I really do. In which case not sure who it surprises more; my boss or me. In fact my boss seems to rate my experience and the stuff that tumbles out of my mouth must make some kind of sense.

Jools had been up early that morning, and by two I could feel a migraine coming on, so with me all caught up, I log off and sit on the sofa with Le Tour playing quietly on the TV with Scully beside me. She is very happy indeed, and rolls over to show me her belly and shere she would like it rubbed.

The cycling is astonishing, with Mark Cavendish winning a mad spint to win yet another stage, two years after he had been written off.

I'm not crying.

And so, to the main event: England v Germany.

A match with more baggage that an Airbus A380. The jingoism that goes with it, especially from the papers is sickening, and Brexit has ramped that up further. Don't bring politics into football, but I'll sing "No Surrender" or "2 world wars and one world cup" because it bantz.

Urgh.

I don't watch the preamble, but settle down to watch the game as the players line up, take a knee and kick off. Germany make the early running, England get into it, nearly scoring just before half time. But the half ends 0-0.

Neither team are playing that well, so it is an even-matched game, but after 7o minutes, Grealish is brought on as the Germans tire, and Sterling scores one from a cross by Shaw. And just before full time Shaw sets up Kane to head in a second and that's it. No drama at the end.

England won as they had prepared slightly better, took their chances and had depth in the squad. Not one bit of individual briliance settled it, just the slightly better team.

Sure it was a big game, but England have a bigger on on Saturday now in Rome. Germany are going home.

Wow.

Monday 28th June 2021

Is this summer?

We woke up again to thich fog and the mounful lament of the distant foghorn at Dover Harbour. It was thicker than ever, really. Anything beyond the bottom of the garden was out of view, and I new the morning commute would be a nightmare. For others, I just had to slide my seat from on part of the dining room table to the other.

Jools had the tough one, driving to Hythe. She left at ten past six so to catch up on work as its crazy this time of the year anyway, and they have less staff now to do the work. I, however, have the great IT failure to deal with.

After switching the laptop on, I get one e mail, then that's it. Nothing for the rest of the day, and everything else is so unstable as to be useless. I try to restart the laptop over and over again, hoping that the next time it will fix itself.

It doesn't.

And its not like I could go out to do something else, the fog was still thick, and then it started raining too. I took a picture out of the back door because such weather is unheard of here at the end of May. My colleagues in Denmark tell me it is hot and sunny there. Denmark has stolen our weather!

I make breakfast and another coffee and ponder the factt hat they are paying me well to work from home, though unable to do any actual work, but will get paid anyway.

Such is life.

I can take part in Teams meetings, and have a couple, during which I have yet more work to do that I can't do.

I have lunch of about half of the leftover Chinese meal from Friday. I don't feel much like work afterwards, but I review documents and try to fix the inbox.

I don't.

Outside the fig des lift at half four, just to drop down again at five. I try to go out to do some snapping. The flower shots were not up to much, but i did catch a foglet sitting on some pond weed, looking up at the sky.

Shot of the day, then.

There is football from five: Croatia from Spain at five. And was a wonderful game, eight goals over 120 minutes of gametime as it was 3-3 at full time. A howler of an own goal, Croatia scoring twice in the last five minutes, and then Spain winning it with two goals in a couple of minutes into extra time. Then France v Switzerland, another corking game, France leading 5-1 with 15 to go, then another two late goals to take into extra time. The match ended at half ten, went to penalties, and France losing out as Mbappe missing with the tenth and final spot kick before sudden death.

It was sudden death for France, who with him and Pogba are out.

On booze

Or rather, off (the) booze.

I have effectvely been on the wagon since the 2nd April with just two small beers since then; one to celebrate Norwich going up, and one three weeks ago when I thought the drugs should make a flare up of gout unlikely.

I was wrong with the second, so since then, the 4th June, I have not touched a drop.

And here is the odd thing, I don't miss it.

Like many people, I have a long relationship with booze, compounded by 15 years in the RAF. But through that I get easily drunk, am not nasty with it, and prone to find my bed to sleep it all off.

Saying that, drinking with meals was pleasureable, and since the reimposition of lockdown in November, I was drinking more. Helped by the new wine glasses Jen bought that easily can hold over half a bottle.

Most meals demanded wine or beer with them, only a fry up, banger and mash or fish and chips meant a cuppa, everything else was wine or beer.

My first real drink was in 1978, on a holiday in Scotland where children could have a drink with a meal. I was only 13, but my 14th was only a week or two away, so I had a couple of lagers with dinners.

Then, like many, I met Olde English Cider in its one litre bottle version. Someone brought it round to our house when I was allowed to have a party, which was really my male friends headbanging to heavy metal records for three hours. I had some cider, all was well until my parents came home and we were tidying up, and I was staggering down the hall, then rushing to the bathroom.

And so it began.

Drinking at weekend when I went to gigs or later when I turned all smooth and went clubbing, and during the week only having enough money for cans of Royal Dutch lager (2% proof). Drunk enough to be merry, but not too much so to get squiffy.

And then I met Mr Tequila. At a work's dinner dance, someone said why not have chasers with pints? THis never ends well.

This didn't.

Urgh, I still don't drink the stuff.

And then I joined the RAF as an armourer.

Armourers have a reputation, so we tell you, for being hard drinkers.

I drank my share, bought my fair share too, and then ran back to the block to bed.

But I could never, mostly, have more than five pints. And that was rare. I would go out with the intention of drinking until closing time, but soon after the third beer had been quickly supped, I would slow down and get sleepy.

The amount I used to drink, even then, was brought home to me when I attended a reunion in 2015, where us old timers would pretend, for an afternoon and maybe evening, that we could do the things we did when we were in the mob. I saw sense after a couple of hours and wandered off and visited more churches in Lincoln on the way back to the hotel.

The idea of the reunion is far better than the actual experience of it.

I got the taste for whisky, and used to enjoy a wee dram or two in the evenings. But even that faded. Instead really only drinking with meals, then having to try to stay awake afterwards watching the footy or Gardener's World.

And then came gout.

The first week or two was hard.

And then its fine.

And its still fine.

In the end, I would rather be able to go out for a walk, chase orchids or butterflies rather than have a glass of tripel or red plnk with chorizo hash.

Failing the Iron Maiden test

Bruce Dickenson, the onetime lead "singer" in Samson and Iron Maiden, and Brexit voter, was on TV yesterday complaining about the effects his vote and those of others who voted for Brexit was having on the entertainment and arts industries.

This didn't mean he accepted that his vote was partly responsible, just that David Frost should do something about it.

The EU has offered 90 day visa free travel for artists, and other such people, might even extend to all UK citizens, but of course that would mean the UK accepting the same conditions for EU artists and nationals coming here. And that is "not compatible with Brexit", apparently.

Though no one voted for a particular form of Brexit, but this is the form that May and Johnson chose, and are continuing to push, with the effect that it will kill off the creative arts. Not just rock and pop singers, but artists in general, musicians in orchestras, sportsmen and women all because the aim, in the end was to end freedom of movement at any cost, including all of the creative industries.

This is just one area where political dogma is going to affect many lives and livlihoods. In the end, is it worth it? No, not at all, but will political dogma change? in time.

Latest statistics show that support for the EU is growing in teens and twenties, and if that support holds up as they grow older, and the realisation that once again the older parts of society have pulled the ladder up to deny them a benefit, then the backlash may yet come. And the cost of this and Brexit in general will, in time, come to pensions. The triple-lock gold standard pension that readers of the Mail and Express treasure. Money will run out, in the end, even for that.

What if the choice is, and will be, helping the sick, infirm, disabled, poor or unemployed, or they keep their pension?

Many will choose pensions, but this is a social contract, why should the young carry on supporting the old if they have been shat upon for the last 12 years since the Tories came to power? The removal of the benefits of society from the young and healthy lieke the right to work in the EU, benefts, BBC3 and so on while forcing on them a life of debt through further education costs will bring the house of cards down.

Not lead by the science

We have a new Health Minister, friend of business, Sajid Javid.

And yesterday he promised that July 21st the final restrictions would be lifted and not reimposed.

We had to live with COVID.

Meaning those who are not vaccinated will catch it, and have to deal with the short and long term effects.

Data suggests that up to two million people have long term COVID, some kind of long term issue that will impact their lives.

Herd immunity for the young, which is what he is suggesting, will probably mean many more "long COVID" sufferers and the possibility of more mutations forming and a vaccine resistant strain emerge.

The positive signals from Javid contrast to the official fgures that showed a 69.9% increse of infections in the rolling week to week data, with 22,868 infections being recorded in te 24 hours up to four on Monday. HOwever, hospitalisations and deaths are still at low levels.

And yet several EU contries imposed restrictions on those not double vaccinated travelling from the UK, while Hong KOng has banned all flights from the UK.

The UK Government might be optomistic, other countries are not.

I want a end to lock down, but I don't want a further wave even more, and for the good of the nation's health we should be supressing infections, contacts as well as vaccines. But this is Britain: £37 spaffed on track and trace under Dido Harding, and it still doesn't work. But the Mail and Express cheer the GOvernment on, like the UK has had the best outcome gobally.

Sunday 27th June 2021

Quid pro quo.

I was asked for some information regarding orchids, and offered something in return. I would have told him anyway, but still.

I was given a grid reference.

And so on Sunday morning, after coffee and breakfast of fruit, we set off for a new location for orchiding, not sure if it was a wild goose chase or not.

Once we were off the main roads, we came across a scene on a country lane; a woman was trying to herd a sheep. Is herd the right word? Anyway, the sheep, was quite happy eating from the hedgerow, but the woman was trying get the sheep back with its flock in the field. I couldn't get past, so we stopped and we both tried to help.

None of us had a sheepdog, which was a shame.

The sheep was now nervous, and ran back and forth as we tried to block its way. It tried to get back in the field, it had clearly jumped a wooden stile, but wouldn't jump back. It then ran back into the lane and tried to get past me. One way it went, then back the other, each time quicker than I could move until it managed to jump past and ran free into the village, which, the last time we saw it, was grazing a well manicured lawn of some millionaire's mansion.

We drove on.

We parked in a small lay by a few miles on, and there was a clear track leading off onto the downs. I got my camera and we went through the gate, then up the track, going ever upwards. Round a bend, and an amphitheatre opened up, and our way was to one side.

Somewhere here were orchids, and not the CSOs we had seen on the track.

I followed one of the "ledges", and there, happily gorwing was one of the country's rarest plants: a Late Spider Orchid. A new site, and one of the least known, I only heard of it myself the day before.

I searched some more and found several more plants at the same level, and more in the ledges above. Most were clearly Late Spiders; right shape, right pattern and with the upturned lip.

I searched more up the down, and to one side, I found a new species: Bee. A close relative, but different.

A lot more Bee in fact.

What I was looking for was the hybrid between the two. It is the last week in June, very late for Ophrys, and only because the season has been so late and cold there was anything to see at all. And then, at the very last, a faded spike, with a lip shape, similar, but different. Was this what I cad come to find?

Probably.

I took lots of shots, with and without flash, then as the mist closed in and rain began to fall, we beat a retreat back down the down to the car, and as the rain got heavier, we drove back down to the main road and home.

By the time we got home the rain was falling steadily, and really did not stop until dusk. A good steady rainfall that gardeners love and will do the garden good as well as filling up the water butts.

There would be no more going out that day, no gardening, just listen to music, write, have lunch and get ready for the next pair of games in the Euros.

Holland v the Czech Republic; you'd think Holland would walk it, but they struggled, then had a player sent off, and the bouncing Czechs pounced, scoring one from a corner, then another on a break away to win 2-0 and send the Dutch home.

Later, Belgium played Portugal, really the tie of the round, but with so much resting on the game, it wasn't good as football, was was compelling. Portugal were physical, overly so, really, but Belgium scored the only goal just before half time, and held on.

That was ten in the evening, the house was in darkness and outside therewas thick sea fog once again