Thursday 22nd December 2016

Despite this being just 24 hours ago (or less) I am struggling to remember how we filled the day on Thursday.

Oh yes: trains.

Saying that, it was a working day, apparently, but with the early morning meeting cancelled, I could have breakfast instead of listening at the weekly complaining session. As I have heard it called, but not by me, oh no.

Jools goes out at half seven to visit Sainsbury's and Tesco to get the groceries in for the week. Apparently there is a sprout shortage, which in my youth would have been cause for celebration, but these days I like a good sprout. THe shelves were full however, which is good news. Nan would have had the sprouts on the boil since August.

When she arrives home at half nine, she comes back, and once my other meeting was done, I cook bacon butties for late breakfast, and then try to sort out stuff allowing me to play hooky in the afternoon.

Playing hooky in that there was a steam tour coming round, as usual at this time of year, and for a change, I thought of going to a new location, on a lineside footpath at Westbere just outside Canterbury.

At dawn, the clouds cleared, and the day grew ever more stunning in the winter sunshine, making the bare trees and hedgerows seems to alive with vibrant colours, driving to Sandwich, and then across the marshes through Preston to Grove Ferry, down arrow and mud coated narrow lanes, but there is wildlife to see. And a man in a paraglider, cruising less than 50 feet above the ground, and I'm sure worrying the tree thereabouts. If trees could be worried. We are traveling at just 30mph, but go past him easily, it seems his feet might scrape on the roof of the car. But don't.

We call in at Westbere church, but it locked; too close to the urban decay of Canterbury I suppose. It seems a fine building, 17th century of the date on the door is to be believed. Still, another one to be added to the list of churches to visit come Heritage weekend next September.

We park down at the bottom of the village, and from there it is a 400m walk up a path beside the railway before coming to the foot crossing. If all went well, I would have fine views of Braunton as it accelerated out of Canterbury.

I had half an hour to wait, an in the sunshine with no breeze, it felt like spring. I mean warm enough not to have a coat on, as it was mine was in a casual manner, unzipped. Birds were busy all round, looking for berries and insects, and I watched a small group of Great Tits in the hedge opposite, foraging.

Two Javelins zoom past, allowing me to check angles and focal lengths, ready for the few seconds when the steam tour steamed past. As that is what steam tours do, obviously.

We were joined by a local couple who also had come down to see the action, and soon as they crossed the line we heard a steam whistle in the distance, meaning it had left Canterbury already. A few seconds later, and another toot on the steam whistle meant it was closer still.

Soon we could hear the pistons working, getting louder, until the exhaust steam and smoke could be seen over the old crossing keepers cottage a hundred yards away or so.

And then she rounds the bend, not breaking stride, and I just fire off shots hoping that I get some decent shots. And in a handful of seconds, she is past us, leaving us wrapped in steam and smoke. The rake of carriages rattle past, and continues into the distance, leaving smoke in her wake.

We walk back to the car, load the camera gear back in, then drive back to Sandwich, retracing our route from the morning, arriving back at just before three, as the daylight began to fade.

And this is the moment we had been waiting for, make a brew then cut the first slices from the first of the Christmas cakes. And it was well worth the wait, the best part of a bottle of sherry had gone into it, and it was Christmas in cake form.

Darkness falls outside, the colour of the sky goes from blue to pink to black.