Sunday 15th August 2021

Would have been my Grandmother's 103rd birthday. Something like that.

She was quite the looker back in the 1930s, when she was dating, or "walking out with" my Granddad from about 1935 onwards.

She turned bitter and she died inside, turned against those she should have loved in order to win the love from her own Mother. She failed, and this damaged my own Mother, her daughter, too.

I wasn't damaged, other than seeing the hypocracy of a Christian who care about nothing other than herself.

She has all of eternity to ponder her actions in life, she deserves all the pain that would bring. If there was an afterlife.

Of course.

I think of her, sometimes, especially on her birthday. And not of nice things, either.

Anyway, on to better things.

Sunday. Day three of the weekend.

And it was time for my monthly haircut, already overdue by two weeks, so let's go to Folkestone!

Shall we go for a walk before?

I hadn't thought of that, yes we shall.

So after coffee, we pack the car with a single camera and ourselves, and drive through Dover, Capel into Folkestone where we park at the top of the Old High Street, using an app to pay for the session. THis bit is important.

I received a confirmation that it was in order, so we set off down the Old High Street to the harbour. People were setting up tables and chairs on the narrow pavement for street dining, though too early for us to partake.

Down at the harbour the tide was out, and the whole fishing fleet was grounded in the mud either side of the old Habour Branch.

We walked along the former railway line, admiring the wild flowers growing, although planted, they are perfect for the walkway. To the station where people were setting up stalls on either platforms. Some calling out to their friends or the person who runs it, all looking forward to a good day.

We walk through the station and onto the harbour arm, most of the food and drink places were yet to open, so we go hungry, though had already and eaten breakfast, and emergency second breakfast before leaving home.

We turn round and walk back to land, and up the street so I could be at the barbers on time.

I arrive five minutes before they opened, and was first in line, so I go straight into the chair for my trim. Again, all seemed so normal, even with them wearing masks still, they even put MOTD on the TV beside the mirror so I could relive the horror of the LIverpool match. I'm sure the guy meant well.

Anyway, once shorn it was like I'd taken off a woolly hat, so light and cool. Well worth the effort of going over there early on a Sunday morning.

Another bonus we met an old friend, Mary, for a coffee and a chat after the haircut, catching up on our news and views and enjoying someone else making the drinks.

After an hour, we part and I go to buy some cake for the afternoon, a pistachio green tea sponge thing, which looked too good to eat. Each slice looked too good to eat. But we would.

I say to Jools: want an ice cream?

No.

Are you sure?

OK, a nutty flavour. Oh, mango sorbet, then.

I had vanilla and cookie flavour. Creamy and crunchie.

We eat those walking back to the car, but when we reach the car, we find that we had received a parking ticket. Despite paying online.

I was rather angry to be honest.

Very angry.

So, on the way home we talk about what to do, so that by the end I manage to screenshot the receipt I had received on my i phone, turn that into a jpeg and send it to my laptop, then e mail it to Jools to submit a comlaint as provide evidence that we had, in fact, paid.

So, we shall wait now.

There is football to watch, so any chores that needed to be done had to be done before two. So, I mow the lawnmeadow again, and begin to scarify it. I mowed the whole lawn, and was halfway through the scarifying and gathering up the dried thatch, when I felt a pain between my shoulder blades.

So, I stop and we have a brew, then I apply an ice pack to the painful area.

So, the taking it easy continues as I watch the football; Newcastle v West Ham, followed by Spurs v Citeh. Inbetween the games, I make breaded aubergine, fry the breaded slices and we eat, just about finishing as the second game kicked off.

A good game, and a home win.

Somehow, the weekend was nearly over once the game ended, it was half six, and we had less than three hours before bed time.

I write another blog post, upload pictures to Twitter for #wildflowerhour, and then it is nine, dark outside, and the weekend had gone.

Time for bed.