Monday 29th September 2014

Sunday.

And so the seventeenth and final day of my vacation.

Sigh.

I have been very lucky with the weather, for the most part I have endured endless sunshine for the most part, with little wind, glorious sunrises and sunsets. Hedgerows are laden with overripe fruit. All in all it has been glorious. It really has.

And indeed, on Sunday morning, after the early mist cleared, the sun shone once again as the temperatures rose and rose.

We had breakfast and another cup of coffee, and I settled down to watch MOTD whilst Jools went off on a sloe hunt/forage. The garden really needed some attention, but instead it was another day for train chasing, as another steam tour was going to wind its way round the county, and with the weather so glorious, the shots should have been fine as well.

I had arranged to meet Will in Sturry at 11, so I dropped Jools off at Nan’s and drove the 20 or so miles over the marshes onto Thanet and then out to Sturry to wait on the Fordwich road. And then wait. And wait. Eleven passed, as did quarter and half past. I had to leave to get to Chartham to be able to get shots of my own.



I drove on country lanes round Canterbury to Lower Hardres and then over Stone Street to Chartham, down the hill, past the Artichoke and into the car park at the village hall. Already there were several on the station, some 20 minutes before the train was due. I took up position on the footbridge and waited, passing the time with other snappers, and avoiding the curious glances of passengers waiting for a service to London.

Just about on time, just after the London-bound train had left, Oliver Cromwell steamed into view, powering its way towards us and then under the bridge and away behind to Canterbury. All over in about 15 seconds I suppose.

And like that it was over, we all wander back to our cars and for me, back home.

Once there, Will had rung, apologising for not being there, but wanting to see it in the afternoon. So he agreed to come to Dover on the train, me collect him from the station and then to the location to do the snaps.

Jools and I do some work in the garden, but it is really too warm to be raking the lawn, so we do some and then retire to the chairs with an iced drink to look at the little work we had done.

At four I go to pick Will up, and we drive to Aycliffe, park up and walk down the dog poo covered steps to the footbridge, where there are already three other photographers waiting. One has some kind of real time train times and announces that it is 27 minutes late, so we settle down for the long wait until quarter past five. In fact Oliver Cromwell almost chased the 16:45 Javelin out and no sooner had the Javelin entered Shakespeare Tunnel than we could hear OC working hard round the bend near Dover Harbour Station.



Accelerating now away from the tight curve, we all snap it as once again the loco vents steam, and closer and closer it comes, I have just enough time to switch to the nifty fifty before it is passing underneath us and into the tunnel behind.

All there is left to do is walk back up the steps and to the car, drive home for a cuppa before Jools takes Will back home in Herne Bay and I cook dinner. It is just gone eight before we sit down for dinner, and dark outside, with the first badger of the night tucking into a feast of peanuts and stale cat food. We know how to treat a badger.

And like that the 17 days was over, and work was beckoning. Oh dear. Time to sensible and all growed up again.