A dose of cold revenge

As always, DAG has crystalised on how we should review Dominic Cummings' evidence in Parliament yesterday: not in what he said, but what he didn't say.

Cummings' ire was on Johnson and Hancock but failed to mention Gove of the Chancellor. The Chancellor brought in the "eat out to help out" which introdced multiple mass spreading events in every town and city in the country, and cost the Governement a tenner a meal.

We should be cautious that he said many things we long suspected and what we wanted to hear, but as above, there were many things he didn't say.

Will this make a difference?

The Torygraph and THe Express framed it as revenge without, at least in the headlines, examine the claims. The Times is focusing on his claims, at least, but a leading opinion piece by Oliver Letwin calls it revenge.

But it can be both revenge and truthful, but again, we should be wary of what was unsaid and what we wanted to hear.

Monday 24th May 2021

Yes, today.

I am off early on my travels, so no time to type, so you get a bonus blog, then two days without one. Maybe three, then I will get writing.

Promise.

It is the start of the second week off, and with the weather to take a downturn my 11, best get out early and make the most of the sunshine, or bright weather.

The plan was to head to *play dramatic music* the Medway Towns, to a site where Man Orchids grow in great profusion. I went there once, but had my camera on the wrong settings and pictures came out crap.

I double check the camera before I leave, and between every shot during the morning, not wanting to make the same mistake.

It was a grand morning, clear blue skies once away from the coast, as it had been raining back in St Maggies, but once through Whitfield it stopped and the sun came out.

As the day got better, traffic got heavier, until I was on the M2, but I wasn't in a hurry, so cruised along at 60mph, listening to the radio and singing quietly to myself.

Gillingham isn't a pretty place, not away from the river, all criss-crossed with dual carriageways and roundabouts, it might be OK to live there, but not for me. Anyway, up from the A2, and into a large housing estate, which went on for a couple of miles, then just stopped. This was the start of Darland Banks.

Sadly, looking down, once I was out of the car, a new housing estate had eaten another chunk of countryside, the steep sides of the down should mean its never built on, but we must leave room for nature and the countryside.

I met my friend, Ian, again, and we walked into the reserve, and in front of us was downland as far as the eye could see, but no orchids.

We walked on.

And then I saw a spike.

And another.

And then they faded out in a few yards.

We walked on, through a gate, and down we went. And then I saw spikes. Lots of spikes.

There was a few variations, but to see them in such numbers is great.

We took pictures, of course. But above, storm clouds were gathering. So we walked back to the car, and dashed across the town, one junction down the motorway to Stockbury to check on the lesser Butterflies.

No messing about, straight along the road, then up the bank to the meadow, past the ranks of fine Lady Orchids looking glorious in the sunshine to the Butterflies. Just one in flower, right beside the path. We take turns to get shots, and with the bluebells over and EPO fading, there was no point in going to the upper wood, so we walk back to the car, only for us to be caught in a downpour.

Damn.

Ian had other tasks, he had to mow a meadow. One Ian went to mow, went to mow a meadow. Of buttercups, which are poisonous for ponies, apparently.

I think I should go to Barham on a Green Lady hunt.

So, back onto the motorway, back to Faversham, Canterbury and down past the Black Robin into the deep dark countryside.

And dark it was, mostly, but a gap in the clouds would light the canopy casting the woodland floor in green light.

I search for a white Lady. The undergrowth is thicker and less orchidy this year, but I find some spikes, and at the edge of of an old flint quarry, I find a small, almost pure white spike, with just a few pink spots on the Lady's bonnet.

On the spur of the moment, I go to Woolage, to check on the Birdsnests.

None had been seen for two seasons, so I wan't execting any luck, just going out of habit really. But once I had walked to the wood from the car, and searched the far side, there under the roots of an upturned tree was a single spike, not yet open. So I take a few shots, and tell myself I still had it.

Not sure what "it" is, though of course.

The car sat nav had warned me of traffic on the A2, so I took the back lanes through to Barfrestone, Shepherdwell, Eythorne and West Langdown before diverting ot Martin, as I had a lead to follow up on. A recrd of the hybride between the Greater and Lesser Butterfly had been recorded, I checked the grid reference, and it appeared to be a small wood between the road and railway.

A quick serch brings no orchids, just flattened bluebells and litter. Lots of litter.

It rains again, so I drive home for late lunch.

Inside there were no cats, which made a change.

I have lunch, review my shots and later, make some corn bread, so I would have something to munch on my journey north in the morning.

Dinner is insalata and the bread. And cherry juice with tonic water.

And that is where we are, early evening, me packing for my trip.

Sunday 23rd May 2021

Would have been my Dad'd 83rd birthday, but has been gone a quarter of a century now.

Not wishing to sound all maudlin or anything, but you know, birthdays and all that.

I guess I can't really remember what he sounded like.

Sadly.

I was on a mission this day, I had arranged to meet a fellow orchidist, another Ian, on a hunt for the Kentish Burnt Tip.

Jools said she would sit this one out.

So, she'll miss all the fun. Oh well.

So, after coffee ans a quick breakfast of fruit, I am gone, going the short distance to Whitfield, down the hill and into Temple Ewell, parking behind the old pub, waiting for my partner in crime, Ian, to arrive.

He does, we compare aches and pains, and agree to take it easy up the down. He has every piece of camera equipment ever invented packed into his bag strapped to his back. I have the one camera and lens, and that's it. Not even a flash or mini-tripod.

It is steady going, not hard, really. Up through the meadow, then across the two paddocks, gradually climbing all the time, sometimes quite steep, sometimes no so. And being breezy and cool, there were no butterflies about once again. I have seen so few this year, I was hoping for some blues, but we saw none.

Up through the top gate, and around the wooded ravine. Although that is overcooking this small geographical feature. At least, once past that, its all down hill from that point. Until we have to turn round to get back to the car, of course.

Down into the second reserve, and along the narrow track, making me feel like a mountain goat.

Well, you can't have one, you just had breakfast.

The ground dropped away to the left, all the way to the railway line far below. I suggested some cheese rolling action could be done here, with only a few broken bones the result.

We had no cheese with us, so we don't roll.

We walk down to the right spot, and we split up to scour the down. Up and down we go, side to side we go. All we see is dozens of tiny Milkworts, confusing the avid orchid-hunter.

After half an hour, we give up, go to look for Bee Orchids, which I do find, in the end, and like most orchids are about a week away from flowering.

On the way back, we look for, and find, the last of the Early Spider Orchids, hunkering down on the down in the onslaught of the, once again, freshening westerly. Where shall we go next?

Well, after ESOs, the logical choice is for Late Spiders, which, remember, the books say never flower at the same time as ESOs, so therefore the hybrid between the two is impossible. But no one told the orchids, as the LSOs have been in flower for a week.

We drive down to Folkestone, then along the edge of the down, parking at the "secret" spot, and grabbing cameras, we walk along for about 100 yeards, and there is the penned colony.

Closer inspection revealled there to be about six spikes in flower, and not large ones as the weather has been so cool. Ian gets his first shots of this species I take some too, because, orchids.

And we diecide one final call before the weather brings the fun to an early end.

I had news that the green Fly we saw on Friday was now fully open, and Ian hadn't seen it, so I say we'd go. But driving along Stone Street, the rain began to fell, hammering down in fact. If I was on my own, I would have gven up, but for Ian, I went on.

We parked down the bottom of the hill, the rain had just about stopped, but more was coming for sure.

I take the full gear: camera, lens, ring flash and mini tripod, and we set on up the hill, planning how to act if we saw people next to the secret passage leading to the special orchid. But there was a chap, photographing a Lady Orchid, we risk it and go by hoping he wouldn't see where we went.

He had seen us, and follow us, not in a bad way, but as the guy turned out not to be local, he wondered what we had gone to see.

So, I pointed to the tiny spike with just the one apple green flower: this is what we came to see, please keep the location secret, I says.

He said he would.

We all take shots, and leave it, and a green sibling, unfound, alone once more.

Ian says he would go up the path to see the lady in the top meadow, I had snapped them so often this year, I give them a miss, so walk down the hill in the rain to the car.

I went home, dodging the lycra-clad cyclists who were hell bent on getting in my way.

I arrived back just after one, and find that Jools was putting the finishing touches to lunch: pork pie and quiche salad, quite a mean as it turned out, but I had burned some calories through the morning. I ate well.

Rain began to fall heavier, Jools couldn't work in the garden, so we listen to Desert Island Discs, and I prepare for the main event; the final round of Prem games, the final round that won't feature Norwich.

And it has come to this, that the only point of interest is not who would win the title or be relegated, but who would finish in 3rd, 4th and 5th place, that two of the teams battling for places in the CL next season are two that sought to undermne the competition with the Super league last month, they should be banned.

Leciester had to just beat Spurs to finish in 4th and qualify.

The Foxes were 2-1 up at half time, but lost their last central defender, and then, in the 2nd half, it all went Pete Tong. And rather than Spurs going all Spursy, Leicester did, the conceded three goals, missed a few chances, meaning that they finished 5th, and no in one of the monied slots in the table.

Sigh.

I cook a small rack of lamb, some Domino Dauphinoise, which didn't look like the shot on BBC Food's website, but they tasted good. There was also some chilli stir fry vegetables, and again, no booze to wash it all down.

And once we had washed up and put the stuff away, it was nearly eight, somehow. So, #wildflowerhour and uploading shots, and the evening was done.

COVID update

Mixed signals over the weekend, with data suggesting that two doses of either vaccine reduces transmission by 81%.

But the data wasn't broken down into age groups, and the page for transmission in schools was missing totally, despite it being in a draft version.

The UK's mitigation plan, if that's what it is, is to rely on just the vaccination campaign, with the gap between to the two doses now reduced to 8 weeks for vunerable groups. And those 33 and over can now apply for the first dose.

But the rest of the plan, like the £37 bullion SERCO Track and Trace as run by Dido Harding, apparently has made the infection rate WORSE, which is quite some going. Of course, I don't expect Number 10 to make a celebration video about that......

Fingers crossed Johnson isn't going to fuck it up again.....

Saturday 22nd May 2021

And although the wind had dropped, the rain was due to sweep in all day, and it was cold again.

Not much planned.

After getting up, we have coffee and after getting dressed I drove to the butchers in Preston.

The roads were quiet, and it was pleasant enough with the radio on.

We had finally got through all the chicken in the freezer, so needed a top up, I also got burgers and a few cheeses.

Then drove back, slish splashing through the puddles and half flooded roads across the marshes back to Sandwich, then back along the main road to home.

That was the exciting bit done.

Back home we have crossants for breakfast. I dip mine in my coffee the way our friend in France, Melanie did, if it was good enough for her.

There was the radio to listen to, dishes to wash, and so on. Jools did some gardening until the rain drove her indoors. Maybe that's why they call it driving rain?

We had salad for lunch; pork pie and some pots of sunblessed tomatoes, or some such nonsense. I had bought some cherry juice fromt he butcher, 100ml a day is said to be good to keep gout at bay, and I need all the help I can.

And then there was almost non-stop play-off football.

Brentford v "plucky" Bournemouth, then Sunderland v Oxford and finally Swansea v Barnsley.

Outside the rain hammered down, forming waterfalls that cascaded off the scaffolding onto our windows, making it look like we were underwater.

And that was it. We listened to Craig Charles, it got dark, we were pooped, so we went to bed.

Its all go.

Health update

I realised I forgot to update the daily blog with the result of the call with my doctor, But I did mention he was due to call.

Well, he did call, and said all was fine, nothing about kidney function or anything. He is going to up the dose of the statins I'm on, but that is it, all the rest is "normal"

Which goes to show not to go half-cocked on the receptionist's words when I called a couple of weeks back.

I guess this is a weight of my mind, as it has been ticking over, and anythig out of the ordinary: going to the loo too much or not enough a cause for concern.

But all seems fine, and now that I have a regime to stick to, and I am walking lots, things should improve further.

Then there is my relationship with booze:

I mean, I'm no alcoholic, never have been. But the habit of having a glass of beer or wine. Large glass or wine. And then some, with most meals had got out of hand.

I realise it was little more than a habit, and easy to break, once I had a reason, and although I like a glass of wine and/or beer as much as the next guy, I prefer to go out walking and snapping.

So, there you go.

As any fule no

Anyone can sign a trade agreement. And call it a free trade agreement.

And that sounds fine.

But, not all trade deals are equal, for one side to wi, the other has to lose.

I wrote years ago, that I could agree and sign a trade deal in a morning. Wouldn't be a good deal, of course.

A properly negotiated, detailed trade agreement takes many years to complete and ratify. The UK had to negotiate over 70 since leaving the EU, and all bar one are on the same terms as the UK enjoyed as an EU member state.

So far, so the same.

But these deals will have to be peoperly negtated withing the next three years.

That's a lot of negotiating. Just as well we have our best person on the case: Liz Truss.

Oh yeah....

The only continuation deal the UK got on different terms was with Japan, which was on better terms. For Japan.

So, some good news is needed: a trade deal with Australia.

The PM wants something to announce at the G7 meeting when the circus rolls into London next month, and anyone, any industry is fair game to be sacrificed for a couple of days of good headlines is worth the damage done, which in this case will be farming.

This is political dogma being put over practical benefits.

Remember, any food can sign a pice of papper, a trade deal, it takes skill and experience to get a benficial one. Be vary wary of a Government *needing* a deal, and will to sign up for just about everything, then worry about the details later.