I am never good in the mornings. ask any wife of mine; there is a choice! No, seriously, not good in the mornings. Give me tea and internet access and I might rustle up a smile. But don't bet on it.
So, after driving into Dover with Jools, I was heading out of the town, through the housing estate that gets me to the Sandwich road quickest, or at least by the shortest route, I looked in my mirror to see a car behind me. Well, I saw the driver's eyes, as he was so close I could not see his lights.
I kept to the speed limit, and we headed up the hill. Halfway up the hill there is a hump-back bridge over the railway line. Not usually much of a problem. But this morning there was a dustcart coming the other way. And half on my side of the road.
I did what any sensible person would do and stopped. Quickly.
Then came the crash.
CRASH!
As knob-jockey behind me did not react quick enough and used my back bumper to stop.
Once the dustcart had cleared the bridge, I went over and parked up.
'What you stopping for?' he shouted.
I got out and walked to his car; he wound the window down.
'You bloody ran into the back of me!' I shouted, whilst shaking.
'You stopped!' was his quite accurate reply.
'And you ran into the back of me'
'I been over this bridge loads of times, loads of room even when there is a dustcart' he says.
I explained he was so close to me coming up the road that I could not see his lights;
'And you have to be able to stop safely; that means keeping distance'.
He stopped, and I could see the cogs going round in his head.
'I'm late for work. Sorry mate.' And he held out his hand for me to shake.
I shook it.
We looked at the back of the Polo; no damage.
'Make it a lesson learned' I said.
'Sorry'he said again, and shook my hand once more.
On the way up through the estate he kept a large distance from me; a 100 yards or so. At least there was no other incident on the way to work.
I had a good day at work, preparing Powerpoint presentations. I really got into them, taking screen shots, uploading them and then adding arrows and text to each screen. Oh these will go on and on; I will send everyone asleep with these!
So, Saturday afternoon, we went down to St Margaret's Bay to watch the rollers, er, roll in at high tide. In truth the waves were not so big, but good to stand and watch and snap. There was a brave surfer trying to 'hang ten' as they say in surfing circles, I believe.
We retreated into the Coastguard and ordered drinks; cider for Jools and ruby ale for me. And wonder of wonders, there was even a table to sit at in the corner so we could people watch. Lovely.
Our friend, Bob, came round quite early Sunday. We sat and talked and then drank coffee, winter ale and then sloe gin. Bob is good company, full of tales and views. But, he would not stay for dinner. His main aim had been to see the kittens, and as luck would have it, Scully took a shine to him and sat on his lap.
Sunday lunchtime we head over to Folkestone for a walk; my knee is still sore, and so anything other than a flat walk for me hurts. The sun was out and it was wonderful walking round the harbour, watching the fishermen bringing home the catch.
Hungry by now, we seek out a chippy and have battered sausage and chips whilst sitting on plastic seating on the chippy like a throwback to the 1970s.
We head back so I could listen to football and prepare dinner. Somehow I had bought a four and a half pound lump of beef and so had to get it in the oven so we could eat before midnight.
So, as the games played out I prepared Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and steamed vegetables. And once again made 'proper' gravy. Nothing tastes the same, nothing at all.
we sat down for dinner at seven, and it was splendid; the best roast yet. And then we sat on the sofa watching wild card games whilst we digested dinner. Not a bad end to the day after all.
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