Monday 2nd August 2021

Tell me why, I don't like Mondays?

Work, mainly.

Not that I don't like or mond work, its just getting in the way of my hobbies.

And being Monday, so not the weekend, the rain stopped and the sun was due to shine later.

Just my luck.

Jools was slow getting going, and did some meditation before going for a walk, and was surprised when she got back home and it was quarter to eight and was going to be late for work. I had been hard at it since seven. Hard at it, I tells you. She phones her boss and leaves.

I make breakfast, a thick slice of bread smorhtered with chocolate spread and a fresh coffee. Having access to delicious bread and nutella is nice but no good for my weight, if i'm honest. But its so chocolaty.

It is August, and yet holiday season is still under way in Denmark. Those who have been away for two or three weeks are back, but others have gone. My boss is still away for two weeks. It'll not surprise you to learn that my IT issues have not been fixed, so I exchange mails with someone in India or China and cope without access to 95% of the documents I need.

So, I have no choice but to work round them, but going is so slow.

I have some fruit mid-morning. Another coffee. And the day is progressing well, and outside the clouds had parted and there was a ball of gas in the sky.

Come three I am done for the day, hardly moved forward as far as work is concerend, so I go out to clear my head. Not far, but I have butterflies on my mind, so I will end up at Windy Ridge.

Instead of the usual way across the fields, I walk up Station Road, to the top of the down, and turn across the fields when I reach the aircraft beacon.

I had forgotten how much rain had fell on Sunday, and the ground was as muddy as it is in winter, very hard going, with pounds of mud clinging to my walking shoes. But there were dozens of butterflies. Nothing rare, but just the sheer number: Gatekeepers, Red Admirals, Small and Large Whites, Peacocks and a few Commas. I snap those I could.

I reached the wood, and I knew it would be even muddier, so turn down the hill, lingering where I saw the Queen of Spain last year, no sigh. Yet. And down the hill, past a couple of tatty Common Blues, through the mud at the bottom and up to Collingwood and home.

And an hour had passed.

I had made a ragu through the day, added some wild garlic sausages and made some garlic bread, in that I made a buttery garlic paste, smothered each side of two thick slices of bread and fry them in a pan. Garlicky and crispy.

And dinner was good.

Better than good. In fact.

It is cool in the evening, to cool to sit outside, Jools does some deadheading and I listen to the radio.

Another day done.

5439

The tall one was 38.

The guitarist a few months younger.

There were three others, and they looked as ancient: the drummer was 40, the bessist was 5 years older; 43 and the new rythm guitarist was a young 34.

They all looked much, much older, even to someone who was just 16. Nearly.

I am old enough to remember the Stones' last great riff. The video is something else, they larked around, pretending to play, they were clearly having the time of their lives, even if their lives had already marked their faces as old before their time. But such things don't matter if you're The Glimmer Twins, as money changes everything.

The song, Start me Up, was later used my Microsoft to advertise their Windows 95 operating system, when it came out in 1996.

It made Jagger/Richards a lot of money.

I'm not sure if they were living back in England by this point, they had been tax exiles through most of the 70s, but to little old me, sitting with my parents in our living room in deepest Suffolk, they looked like they were having the most fun it was possible, and it was their job.

There's a quote in Almost Famous about the Stones: “If you think Mick Jagger will be out there trying to be a rock star at age 50, you are sadly, sadly mistaken.” Because they would have saved lots of money and be able to retire to their French Chateaux. But Jagger, Richards and the rest, but not Bill Wyman as he had the grace to retire in 1990, his replacement has been in the band longer than he was in it.

So, if my maths is correct, as Start me Up came out 40 years ago, that makes Jagger/Richards 78, and still being the baddest duo in Rock and Roll, turns out you're never too old to rock.

Since then I have worked five years at the chicken factory, had 15 years in the RAF, surveyed the ocean floor for four years and been a pillar of the wind industry for over 11 more. I have grown up, married three times, divorced twice, and they have been the Rolling Stones.

I've been running hot
You got me ticking gonna blow my top
If you start me up
If you start me up I'll never stop
Never stop, never stop, never stop

Destroy all monsters

"An advantage of Brexit is now it's clear who has responsibility for fixing it, our democratically elected MPs.

If they don't fix it, & we continue with broken system & without a serious emergency system, it's a data point for 'Brexit hasn't worked as intended"

Above is a quote from schoolboy genius, Dominic Cummings, aged thirteen and three quarters, showing, if he is to be believed, that little or no consideration was given to the consequences of Brexit by Vote Leave and the Cabinet when Johnson promoted them all.

Back in the early days of Brexit I sugegsted the aim was to get to the point of no return and then saying, we just have to make the most of it now. And, sadly, that was more true than I dared to think.

Meanwhile, the Express has been tying itself in knots as it reports that both France and Germany have been saying how many more people their respective countries have vaccinated than compared to, say, Brexit Island. Of course, the success is the early roll out of the vaccines was the only policy positive that Johnson's Government have managed in two years, but now that isn't the positive story it once was, we shouldn't compare and those pesky forriners shouldn't gloat.

Pictures all over social media of empty supermarket shelves and the promise its only going to get worse.

Its worth remembering that no other European country, apparently, is suffering from food shortages or supply issues, just the UK.

What could possibly be the reason?

Sunday 1st August 2021

Start of the 8th month.

Days are now shorter, noticeably so, dark now at about nine, and we are getting up, on a work day, just as dawn is, well, dawning.

Being the weekend, we do try to lay in, and I make it to half six before I have to get up, cats follow me about, so I go down to feed them breakfast, then wait for Jools to wake up, so I don't put the kettle on until I hear her feet from upstairs, on the move.

We have coffee.

Then fruit and another coffee.

And finally croissants and more coffee.

I was buzzing.

And so, to go outside, to hunt for the penultimate orchid species of the sean, the Violet Helleborine.

Its just a short blast up the A2 to Braham, and then along narrow lanes to the site, due to the recent rain, we chose the longer path, as there was less vegetation to stomp through, so should be drier. I thought.

The path climbs beside the wood, under the eaves of the trees, looking like a scene from Tolkein, climbing all the while until we come to the dogleg, then slow down to scour the undergrowth for an orchid spike.

But we find none.

Further on, and climbing to the top of the wooded down, there should be the most obvious, most reliable clump. But there was none. Along the path where a spike usually rises out of the ruts, there was none either. To the right of that, there are three tree trunks with VH spikes, usually.

But not this year.

We had found none in any of the obvious places.

Oh dear.

I go to look in the undergrowth, and in the end find two small clumps of three spikes each. Just six plants. I was to later learn there were at least five clumps, but all we at least a week away from flowering, but there is too few, really, for a group of budding orchidists being shown around. I thought this was because of people digging the orchids up, but as the Lady Orchids on the other side had been ravaged by deer in May, I suspect this is similar, but shocking where once over 60 spikes could be found here.

I walk sadly back to the car, we could stop and look at the Yellow Birds Nest on the way, that'll cheer me up I suggested.

But as we drew close to the spot, rain began to fall, and so we went home instead.

We hadn't been home long, when the heavens went dark, and then the downpour began. It was the kind of rain that signals either the beginning or end of a storm, but this time it was the storm. Rain just poured out of the sky, flooding the back garden, the path ayway. It was dark enough for lights to be on.

Up the coast in Deal, a football match was abandoned as the pitch flooded.

It eased after nearly an hour, but the rain continued on and off the rest of the day. Jools went swimming, and I made bread to go with the caprese we were to have for dinner.

No wine.

The bread was excellent, as was the caprese, over ripe tomatoes and cheese at room temperature was just so full of flavour.

We eat well, and clear up. It was nearly seven again, and the weekend had slipped through our fingers once again. Outside rain continued to fall as darkness descended.

Lawnmeadow: July

I realised once I had written last month's update of our lamnmeadow through the year, that I had described the drifts of Ox Eyed Daisies, I had failed to photograph them, so I put that wong right now.

From dawn to dusk, the air is full of bees, butterflies and flies, all busy collecting nectar and doing the imprtant work of pollinating. I could sit all day and watch time. But time presses.

Or a more general shot of the effect:

My very own orchid, the Pyramidal went on to flower fully, and then gradually turn brown and set seed. I am hoping for many more spikes next year, of course.

Last year we bought some Viper's Bugloss, and thought they had failed totally. And then, a flash or blue seen among the Ox Eyed Daisies, and here be snakes!

New species in the lawnmeadow have been at a premium, as the final flush of spring growth gives way to the lushness of summer, doubly so when we have been blessed with the wetest of Mays, Junes and Julys, really quite astonishing, really. But popping up in the shadow of the hedge was this, Hedge Woundwort, it of foul smelling leaves, but close up with flowers almost good enough to be an orchid.

Yes, really that good in close up:

And that is it, really. On the 23rd, I mowed the first of the meadow, leaving the thatch to dry in the sun before gathering a few days later, hoping that the seeds will drop down onto the ground for next year's display.

I have left two areas unmowed. One where the Musk Mallow is still looking glorious, now climbing up and through the hedge. This came from one small plant last year, and now has taken over a quarter of the meadow, so next year, who knows?

And yet, I already have new seed for next year. More Yellow Rattle to ensure the grass is kept under control, but some Greater Burnet, Common Centuary and a dash of Depford Pinks too. Already looking forward to it.

Back on the Brexit beat

Things are very quiet on Brexit for the time being.

The walking brain that is former PM's chief advisor is now reduced to tweeting huge threads about how he ripped up the rule books, and people did it wrong and he was too clever for remainers.

Or something.

The UK and EU are still on a colision course over the NIP, and what happeens now is anyone's guess, but the confrontational line that Johnson and Frost have taken will almost certainly continue as it, to their minds, would have resulted in more can-kicking so far.

But in October and again in January, more rules are to come into force, making it harder to import, unless the UK takes more control by not doing any kind of checks on good coming in from the EU, instead relying on their honesty.

Meanwhile the EU will have to decide enough is enough and restart legal proceedings against the UK, the did suspend action last week, which was a surprise, but again will embolden Frost's combative attitude.

Meanwhile shortages are getting more accute, certainly at places at the end of supply lines, like Scotland and Cornwall.

Andrew Bridgen, in the Mail, somehow blamed Tony Blair for the driver shortages, which is some kind of batshit crazy idea.

Labour, meanwhile is looking beyond the cirrent impasse, and to the future relationship, which is where some kind of future will lie. This comes as Johnson's and the Tory's poll ratings tumble to be almost back level with Labour, as"bounce" from vaccinations finally runs out of energy.

Johnson and his mistress, or are they married, are expecting their second child, which dominated many of the front pages of the Sunday papers, though the exact number of children Johnson has fathered is still unknown.

Interesting to point out that Johnson has said that the PM's salary isn't enough to live on, yet he brings another child into the world.

A fine example.

Meanwhile the Government has created a secret group for those who donate huge amounts, creatingsomething called the Advisary Bord with access to the PM and other Ministers. Meetings are not minuted, membership is not known other than it is by invite only, but as the FT asks: is democray for sale?

Sleaze and cronyism is not embedded in the way this Government does business.

Saturday 31st July 2021

The weekend. It seems that I had scheduled a whole lot of stuff, well, two things, into Saturday. And as a result of cashing in our saved holiday money, in NZ$, Jools got the refund on Friday afternoon now it is clear we cannot go, only to be presented with £2,600 is hard cash. This was from the currency exchange at Tesco, and by which time the banks had closed for the day. So we had enough for a very large pumpkin in the country, sitting in the old ice bucket.

One solution, apart from buyin ghr most expensive pumpkin in history, would be for Jools to stay in Dover and walk back from town after depositing the money. The other solution would be to go to the branch in Maidstone, as I had arranged an orchid meet for ten, and this would only allow us to be be at the site in time.

It was this latter option we went to, and in order to have breakfast "out", we would leave home at just after seven to drive up to Maidstone, wander round and me take some snaps, have a bite to eat, deposit the cash and then drive to Detling.

As Highways England were removing, again, the contraflow for the M20 Brexit lorry park/processing facility, this would mean driving along the A2, then M2 and down past Stockbury to Maidstone.

We had a coffee, packed the car and set off, Radcliffe and Maconie on the radio, and a bright, if not sunny day. Not much to report, really on the drive. We made good time, and cruised down into Maidstone, round the complex one way system to the small car park nearest the bank. I used the phone app to pay for the two hour stay, then after grabbing my camera we set off along to the main town square.

Maidstone centre has a high concentration of bars and night clubs, and despite having urinals set up, the place smelt of stale wee. Not nice, but the town itself looks fabulous, just waking up on a sunny summer morning. We spy a place on the other side of the road and go there for breakfast, having a cheese puff and a falky chicken pie thing, half each and a brew. Not the fry up we were expecting, but OK.

We walk round the main square, its a decade or more since we were here, so I spot more details I had missed last time.

We make it back to the main street, find Lloyds, but then find you have to enter via the rear door, which is on another street, and that took some finding, so that by the time we found it, it was just before nine. I go back round to the front to wait for Jools, and on the way buy a couple of sausage rolls from Greggs. Shouldn't be nice, but are.

Money pad in, we walk back to the car, as the town was beginning to fill up, leaving up the hill back to the motorway and onto Detling, where we find we were half an hour early now. So, we sit in the car, listen to the radio waiting for others to arrive. Just five others were coming, so at five to ten, I walk to the footbridge and find them milling about talking about orchids beside the village hall.

Ahoy, I shout.

And they walked up the steps to join me.

We all walk back to the car where Jools was waiting, then through the wood to the meadow.

Many of the spikes we saw two weeks back were now in flower, although many were dusted with what looks like rust, something I have not seen in orchids before, and whereas last time just one spake had rist, this time many had it, even up the spike to the flowers in some cases.

We find a pure green spike or two, and the usual very dark ones that this spite is very good at producing, and all colours inbetween. The group were very happy with the orchids, even if numbers were very much down on previous years in the meadow, but along the paths there were dozens.

It was half eleven, and I had a date with a train. A train and two locomotives.

Railtours have been hit by COVID too, and I have not stood beside a railway line since a couple of days before Christmas in 2019 when I stood on Walmer station in the gathering gloom of a mid-winter's afternoon waiting to snap a class 47 hauled tour. I only just got the shot that day as the light failed.

I wouldn't have such issues today, I thought.

So, we made our excuses and walked back to the car, as the plan was to get home, have lunch before choosing my viewpoint for the rialtour, which was going to be powered by two class 50s, which never stayed onto Southern metals very often, let alone in pairs.

Traffic by midday was heavy, so we made steady progress back along the motorway to the coast, then off onto the A2 towards Canterbury.

Back home at one, and a quick lunch and a strong brew. I review the shots I had taken, and decide that a bridge near to Martin Mill station where I could snap the tour, then if I was quick, dash to Shepherdswell to snap it again coming out of Lydden tunnel.

What could go wrong?

We have been watching storms via an online storm radar all summer, geeting all excited as storm after storm built over France of the Channel only to fade as it reached the narrowest point of the Channel, which is where we live, of course.

We had barely heard a rumble of thunder.

I didn't check the weather before I left, sure it had clouded over, but didn't look that bad. I crossed the Deal Road, drove up into Martin then along to the brdge, rain which had started falling got heavier.

I thought nothing of it.

A family of four were already there, so I parked on the other side, grabbed two cameras and took up position on the bridge, and then the thunder started. It rolled aorund us, from all directions, and heavy rain began to fall. I went and stood in the shadow of a tree, whilst the family took to their car. The rain hammered down and the thunder got closer.

The father from the family had a live train app on his phone, so kept me updated with progress, as the tour made its way through Sandwich and Deal. We went back to our places on the bridge and waited for the train to appear.

We'll hear it before we see it, he says to his two young sons, who he was getting into serious gricing. I said we would hear the toot on the horn as the train approached the foot crossing at Coldblow.

Indeed, we heard the horn, so got ready. Soon we could hear the rumble of the engines as the locos hauled the rake up Martin Mill Bank out of Walmer. I saw the headlight, then the train emerged and headed round the bend, accelerating as it past below us, and onwards to Martin Mill itself. The driver had seen us, and gave six toots on the horn, we all wave back. Because its the law.

I was soaked, and once back in the car, the inside of the windows all steamed up, but I had just half an hour to get to Shepherdswell, but the train would have to reverse at Priory station, meaning I should have time.

All was going well, back through Martin, down the hill to Martin Mill, past the station and onto the Deal road, then stuck behind a lady driving at 40mph no matter how clear the road was.

I did get past her back on the A2, round the roundabout at Whitfield, then along to the traffic lights at the start of the dual carriageway, down the narrow lanes to Shepherdswell, and finding a parking space outside the station. I grab cameras and race to the footbridge, past half a dozen passengers waiting for a stopping train into Dover.

Others joined me on the bridge, including a nice Polish chap now living in Essex who also had the train app and told us all the train was on it's way.

From the footbridge we could see the headlights refelcted on the rails in the tunnel, and once those lights were seen, cameras at the ready, check settings, as we only had the one chance at this.

The throb of the engines drew close, the nose of the heading loco emerged, and then the train was on and under us. My camera whirred, rattling off dozens of shots.

It headed into the distance, in bright sunlight, but making the stormclouds in the distance, as black as night.

Happy with that, and the other stuff we had done, I walk back to the car and drove back home, via Eythorne, where on the way I was stopped by the level crossing of the light railway, should I get a camera out to snap it, not wth it, I thought.

Wong!

A slamdoor commuter unit pushed by a shunter cut across the road, with the old fashioned gates in the forground, it was a wonderful view, but went unrecorded.

Once the gates opened, I drove on, without incident until a lady driving a Range Rover thought I should give way to her after she turned into facing me. We had a face off, she swore at me after I suggested she could see me coming, and retorted I should have seen her, there was a huge layby just feet behind where she stopped, but she forced my up the bank, and her too. Her husband/partner looked on in silence.

Once home, I peel potatoes for chorizo hash, and then prepare the vegetables and sausage.

Yummy.

We eat at half five, and are all wrapped up by the time Craig Charles comes on the wireless at six for three hours of funk and soul. Jools had put some new fairy lights aorund the shelter, so we sat in the gathering dusk and waited for them to come on.