Wednesday 19th December 2018

I woke some time after 6, and laying in the dark I could hear the rain falling already. It was going to be one of those days. Not one for travelling, but then we are not able to make those kind of choices so far in advance. I would have to make the best of it.

I get up, have a shower and begin to pack, and at quarter past seven go to check out, as last time it had taken a good 15 minutes. This time it was done in three. With the spare time between that and the breakfast bar opening, I read the sports pages of The Times, and apparently everyone knew ose was a git. Shame they didn't say it when he had the job. But then that's journalism.

I have fruit then toast. No eggs and sausages for me, although I probably would have done better this day with 150 miles or so to drive.

I finish packing, hand the key in and load the car up. Program the sat nav, and unlike last time it must have decided I did not need to go via the nearest ferry, as I was halfway to Newport before I reliased I was heading in the wrong direction. And in the dark and in the rain, the Isle looks the same wherever you are, I guess.

So I turn round and head into Cowes, eventually seeing the signs pointing the way to East Cowes via the floating bridge. I wait in line as it docks after the 20 yard crossing from the other side, then allow the cars on board to get off before we are allowed on.

Once we had crossed to the other side, once around the block and into the ferry waiting area, and then, wait.

The ferry was already in, and slowly they unloaded before allowing us waiting to board. Once I had safely parked the car, I queue to take the lift to the top floor, as my hip was grumbling already. Up on the main deck, I don't even bother going outside, I just take one of the airline seats at the front of the ship, so I would be able to see where the ferry was going.

As we headed out into the Solent, ahead a huge container ship could be seen, maneuvering on a sixpence. I tried to take shots of the stacked containers on her decks, almost as high as the bridge. We sail by.

I read more of Bruce as we near the mainland, ending another chapter as we are told to return to our cars.

Getting out of Southampton is easy enough, just follow the dual carriageway outside the port, following the signs to the start of the motorway. At least it wasn't foggy this time.

< leg was aching, so I thought a walk would do me good, and Winchester was nearby, so I turn off and head to the park and ride, but they don't take credit cards. So I take the narrow roads into the city, passing over ancient bridges over the river and into a parking house of a shopping centre. It was hard finding a space large enough to take the hire car, but I do get the car into it, whether it'll ever come out again is another matter.

Winchester was the ancient capital of Wessex, the kingdom of Alfred the Great and other legendary kings and queens.

And lots of shops. Apparently.

I walk along the street marker set up between the more traditional mobile phone and charity shops, looking for any indication of there the cathedral might be. Oddly, it was a large stone build cathedral sized building, apparently of Normal design. And big. Did I mention it as large?

For eight and a half of your English (and Scottish) pounds, I was allowed in and able to take as many photographs as I wanted. Good, I like a challenge.

Words cannot describe the cathedral and the tombs and memorials, but I was particularly impressed to find the relics of St Swithun in the Chancel. And there was the splendid collection of medieval tiles, all laid out in 10 x 10m squares to show off the repetitive patterns. I snap them all.

There is so much to see, and with it being early, not many people around, but really I needed my wide angle lens, so I will have to return, maybe in the new year.

On the way back to the car I stop to buy a currywurst from a stall. The owner made his own curry sauce, has senf and sauerkraut with to smother the spicy sausage. And as it sounds, it was magnificent.

The dat nav guided me out of the town, just as the rain began to fall. And it did not stop until I was back home in fact.

It was pretty grim going up the M3, traffic and lots of spray, but the M25 was this with three times the traffic. And then jams. I sat in a queue of traffic for an hour. Maybe two, moving on, but start stopping into Kent as the day fades into evening.

South of Ashford, the motorway was closed, so we line up to get off the motorway, edge round the outskirts of the town, then onto the Romney Marsh, trying to figure a way to avoid the jams in and around Hythe. I take lane and byways before eventually reaching Selling, on the A20, with what should have been a clear run to the motorway at junction 11. But at Hythe the rad was jammed, an accident had just happned, there was no traffic moving, and all we could see was flashing indicator lights in the heavy rain.

I managed to get into Hythe, creep along past Sainsburys and Waitrose in a Biblical storm, before taking the road up over the down along which Jools uses. Then into the motorway, through Folkestone and up the dons at Shakespeare before descending into Dover.

I get home at ten past five, worn out with my back screaming having spent most of the past two days sitting and not being able to move.

Jools arrives home 20 minutes later, we are both shagged out, and looking forward so much to our time off work over Christmas.

I cook fish cakes, lentils and peas. And I have wine. I don't care that red wine did not go. I wanted wine and I had wine. Lots of wine.

I had so much to do, but in the end an hour after dinner all I was fit for was to go and lay in bed listening to the radio as Spurs beat Arsenal in the League cup Heck, I even heard most of it.