Some thoughts

On retirement and old age.

I moved to Dover some 18 years ago, and through photography, met lots of new and interesting people.

Sadly, the East Kent Flickr group soon burned our way through new places to visit, our lives moved on. Some died, some married, had kids and so on.

I joined the local camera club. It met down the hill from our flat in town, so was easy to wander down on a Thursday night. It was clicky. Cliquey. And in 2009, we moved from town to here, and so would have to drive to attend, and anyway, I am not competitive, so saw no real desire to put images up for internal and external competitions.

I left. And now the very same club has folded because no one wanted to take on the committee roles needed to keep the club affiliated.

I worked for a shot time in the box factory, but my colleagues were of a generation younger, and I was married to a memeber of the management, no matter how junior. I made no friends there.

I then started work in the wind industry. Initially commuting to Ramsgate every day, but when promoted, I lost touch with the folks who worked there. My colleagues lived in Manchester, north Waes, Denmark and leter on, India.

We have done quizes with our neighbours, but they have other friends and several times they can't come out with us because they're with other friends, and another local friend, has issues with his very elderly mother so dies not socialise, nor ever has done.

Turns out it is bloody hard making friends as an adult.

I am an only child, so used to my own company, but unless we do something, our dotage will be lonely and quiet. And what happens when one of us passes on?

There are clubs, but nothing really grabs, and it seems joining for the sake of it, not because we want to. Thing is I have friends through orchids, churches, music and so on, all around the world, just no one local. If I can do that online, surely I could do that in person?

I am running a group through an organisation called U3A, two groups. One for churches and the other for orchids. Orchids won't start until April and will comprise of maybe half a dozen meets, but churchcrawling is planned to have fortnightly meets and travel to churches. Might meet some folks through that.

Or there is volunteering at either the Battle of Britain Memorial, Dover castle or Canterbury Cathedral.

It is the long winter months when going out is hard, and meeting folks next to impossible.

We shall see.

Monday 4th August 2025

Some British Railway buttons that our friend John brought among a Danish Shortbread tin of other buttons.

I asked if they were his. He replied that such things were long gone by the time he joined British Rail.

When did you join British Rail, John?

1950 says he.

Well, British Rail was only three years old at that point, after the merger of the "Big Four".

He was a signalman so had no need of fancy uniforms I suspect, maybe a driver or station staff?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Monday again.

And as Jools had a blood test early on, the trip to the gym was postponed yet another day, so she could fast before going, then once back have breakfast and be ready for the day.

In fact, it was a day in which little happened other than that. I stayed at home, sat on the patio and watched the birds, bees and butterflies. Drank coffee and generally did very little actual work.

Jools did trim more of the lilac tree, and the hedge behind it. Which I didn't know she was doing until I went upstairs for a shower to make me all smell beautiful, like.

I defrosted rolls for lunch, which I put in slices of ham found at the back of the fridge, as well as a cold Yorkshire pudding. For the carbs.

All the while the final day of the final test played out: England v India, and going into the last day England needed 30 something runs with four wickets remaining, but lost seven runs shy so the series was drawn 2-2.

A fair result.

So, to Jen's for cards, and Jools had a storming day, winning Meld and both the pots in Queenie, so our money tin went from nearly empty to nearly overflowing.

I just made up numbers.

But it was good just to pass three hours playing for pennies, drinking tea and some light humour until it was time to come home at five to feed the cats.

And so a quiet evening, talking with an old friend and catching up.

Then I retired to attend to my evening affairs.

Ahem.

Sunday 3rd August 2025

Sunday.

And with our plants laden with runner beans, I thought I had better cook a roast.

Like all good things, it requires planning: going to the butcher on Thursday, spend three hours making stock on Saturday, mixing the pudding batter the evening before, and soaking the potatoes for two hours to get rid of the starch so the potatoes will be extra crispy.

Jools had gone for an early morning walk, so I made a coffee and sat on the patio with Scully, watching the comings and goings, and was soon chasing one of nine Painted Lady butterflies seen during the day.

This first one returned to feed, and was happy with me getting fairly close.

Elsewhere, in Suffolk, the first confirmed Southern Small White was recorded. I am pretty sure the one I snapped was, and 99.99% one I saw last week, but it flew away, was one too. We shall never know.

Jools came back, so we had breakfast.

And then it was time to prepare everything: Jools stringed the beans, but I peeled the potatoes before soaking, the beef I took out of the fridge, seasoned and rubbed flour into the fat to make it crispy. I gave the batter some extra mixings with the whisk.

All done by eleven.

The potatoes were boiled, then left to cool to become soft and floury. The meat put into a hot oven to seal the outside, then broiled for just over an hour. The potatoes were put into hot duck fat, basted and set to broil also on a high heat.

Every half hour the potatoes were basted, and soon began to show colour. They took 90 minutes to be perfectly crisp, with soft insides.

The meat cooked for an hour on a medium heat, then left to rest while the vegetables and beans steamed, and the batter poured into hot goose fat and broiled at a high heat.

Gravy made, heated, thinned with the stock I made, so was perfect.

In fact it was all perfect, once carved and dished up.

Jen had arrived, wine poured, so we sat down just after two and ate like royalty.

They cleared up while I sat outside to cool down, and have one last glass of wine to unwind with.

Jen left soon after four, there was no footy to watch, but we busied ourselves online, before one last brew of the day.

Jools watched the Detectorists, and I hunted Scully to giver her her insulin, only to find an hour later she was on the sofa with Jools.

Ruby

At the end of the 80s, David Hepworth interviewed the Rolling Stones on the occasion of their 25th anniversary.

That was 35 years ago.

That pop stars would have a life of beat music is something, not even the eatles thought would last a lifetime. Ringo himself hoped to make enough money to buy a hairdressers or two.

Mich Jagger is now 82 years old, Paul McCartney is similary aged, and they still tour.

And people go to see them. Sometimes they even put out new music to make it like the tour has a purpose.

At the moment, Oasis are touring, you might have noticed. Noel is 58 years old, and Bonehead is a year older. When David Hepworth interviews the Stones in the 80s, he was barely 40.

Pop stars hang around, mainly because they've got nothing else to do, and touring is now where the real money is made. Bands from our youth are reforming, and playing venues far larger than they did in their pomp.

I say this because a band from my youth are touring to mark their 40th anniversary, and I am going to see them when they play Dover in October.

The Wedding Present were the atypical "indie" band at the end of the 80s. Owned their own record label, always on John Peel and in the NME a lot. A contestant on Blockbuster said they loved: The NME, John Peel and the Wedding Present.

How can the Weddoes have been going forty years?

So, we go along to relive our youth, sing the old songs among other like-minded people.

And go home happy.

Oasis have played the same 23 songs an the same order, every night of their tour so far. No one minds.

Saturday 2nd August 2025

It is the weekend once again, and the football season begins. At least for teams in Leagues 1 and 2, and some non-leagues, though some of those started last week. Its also the first week of the FA Cup!

We had little planned, just as well as Dover was pretty much gridlocked until well into the evening with port traffic. Jubilee Way as stationary up to the Duke of Yorks roundabout most of the morning, and the A20 jammed all the way back to Hawkinge in the morning, then eased through the afternoon. But was still showing red on the traffic radar until early evening.

The garden is now looking presentable, with Jools clearing dead or finished plants and shrubs, and the lawnmeadow now really ready for autumn.

Sitting on the patio, a bumblebee had fallen asleep in a flower of one of the shrubs, so was easy to take shots of.

Jools did more gardening, so I went for a walk to the post box, then along Collingwood into the countryside, before doubling back over the fields to our road.

Not far, but looking for plants and any moths and/or butterflies.

I did find a Lime Hamkmoth caterpillar struggling on the path, fending off a wasp, I put it in the nearest garden, and hope it survives.

Near Fleet House a young lady on a horse stops in front of me. Apparently, the horse won't go on until its nose is scratched.

I was pleased to do so.

Back over the fields, and I see a tiny female Common Blue butterfly, almost totally brown, the hindwing spots identifying it as a Common Blue rather than a Brown Argus.

Back home, then, and ready for a drink and a sit in the sun.

We have lunch early. I make a large pan of creamed spinach to go with fresh corn, Moroccan spiced rice and breaded chicken.

Lovely.

The bottle of tripel did mean I struggled to stay awake through the game on TV, but a coffee and a pain au raisin woke me up again.

The football plays out on the radio, really a stream of scores, names and muted crowd sounds. I am not that invested, sadly, in the bottom two leagues, but this was the first time I had listened to the "round the grounds" on Radio 5 since before we went to India, as the season was in its last weekend when we got back, and different leagues played on different days.

Funk and soul on the radio, dark by nine and then to bed.

Friday 1st August 2025

And, like magic, its Friday again.

Jools is not yogaing for a month, so no early start for us, though we should have gone to the gym.

Should is a hint that it didn't go to plan, as Scully went missing when she was due for her insulin jab.

So, Jools stayed behind to find her, to make sure the jab took place 12 hours, or as close as possible to 12 hours, since the last one.

I went to Tesco. A pleasant experience at such an early hour, before the crowds arrive.

So, around and round I went, gathering supplies. Though, somehow I managed to forgot to get salad stuff, but I think we'll survive.

Back home before traffic to the port backed up all the way up Jubilee Way, have breakfast and tidy up, put shopping away.

Jools had her art group in the village library, so I took the car and went to Temple Ewell.

A couple of spikes of Autumn Lady's Tresses have flowered in Bournemouth, so I thought I would survey the down.

I parked behind the old George and Dragon, girded my loins for the climb through the woods and meadows up to the open grassland at the top.

I stopped several times to catch my breath and take in the view, before going through the gate at the tree line and the down opened up with views down to Temple Ewell village and along the main line to Lydden.

I walk up the the second meadow, then down through scrub to where the tiny orchids should be.

I searched and searched, and were they there, I am sure I would have found them. Not even a single tiny spike was seen. So, I will return next month.

What I did see was the other main target species, a Silver Spotted Skipper, resting in grass, but allowed me to get fairly close for shots. I also got shots of a male Chalkhill Blue, but saw no Adonis or Dark Green Fritillaries which have reported there.

I walked back across the down to the gate and down, where in the lowest meadow I encountered two photographers, one of which was familiar.

We swapped news of what we have seen, and I had to ask the guy his name. It was Andy with whom we had spent three and a half weeks in India in April.

D'oh!

I was able to ID a butterfly they had seen as being a Small Blue, which I didn't know were up there, and not this late in the season.

Back down to the car, then back home with traffic easing enough to let me get to the Deal Road and so to St Maggies.

We have lunch, while storms bubble up over Belgium, could we be getting some thunder action today instead?

No.

The storms fade as the afternoon passes.

The garden is a mass of butterfly and moth action at the moment, as we have seen Painted Ladies, Red Admirals, loads of Gatekeepers and a whole lotta Whites.

I snap some, as well as a Jersey Tiger which was nectaring, and just asking to be snapped.

The football season began at eight: Luton v Wimbledon on the telly box. We have Chorizo hash, and I drink the rest of the Chocolate stout as the big kick off gets the season under way.

A close game, won by the home team via a cracking own goal.

Thursday 31st July 2025

Summer is the season for thunderstorms, and we have had a couple already this year. One which flooded houses and businesses in Dover.

So, the strong possibility of storms for eight hours from two in the afternoon, along with heavy rain meant we would be doing little.

We both ached from the work we had done the day before, so decided to take things easy, what with the rain and all.

First thing, after seven, I was up, so took a shot of the garden and lawnmeadow now it is somewhat under control.

Downstairs for coffee and discuss what to do with the day, which ended up being very little.

I watched science stuff on YouTube, and learned that Saturn had more moons than I remembered.

I checked online: it is 274 moons now.

Two hundred and seventy four.

Moons.

And our two Voyager craft, now in interstellar space, all using less electronics than in your remote car key!

We did not go to the gym.

And we did not go out for breakfast.

In fact we did not go out at all.

Neither of us did gardening, though I did chase some butterflies round the garden, and snapped a Gatekeeper hanging upside down.

I went to the butchers in Preston, nipping over between showers so I could get a joint of beef for roasting on Sunday, as the runner beans in the garden are ready for picking, so would go with a few slices of beer, roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings and home made beef gravy.

We kept eyes peeled on the skies and storm radar, but the closest a storm came was the Isle of Wight.

We got some steady rain in the afternoon and into the evening, but it didn't amount to much.

Chicken salad for dinner, with a new tripel which the phone failed to take a shot of, so you'll have to take my word for it.

And that was it for another month: July, gone, just like that!