Tuesday 17th December 2024

So, here I am, first day of Christmas break, and here I am walking along the prom in a light drizzle, trying to kill a couple of hours.

I had an eye appointment at nine, then would catch a train, hopefully at ten or so, heading to explore a new Kentish town, or one I have only passed through.

With light drizzle in the air, I didn't linger on the prom, instead made my way via Newbridge down to the town centre, hoping to sanp the town's Christmas lights, but they were switched off at this time in the morning, even though it is still dark.

Few places open for a brew, but Costa was, so I go in and order a large gingerbread latte and a mince pie.

And people watch.

Regulars come and go, parking outside, grabbing paper cups full of java before leaving again, to go about their daily tasks.

I checked work mails and the morning passed slowly.

I walked up to Specsavers so they could flash me and blow air into my eyeballs. Hey, we all need a hobby, so I don't judge.

I need new glasses, so get the cheapest two dark frames and still costs me an arm and a leg. But thats that for two, if not four years.

I walk back out into the drizzle on Biggin Street, cut through to cross over to the roundabout, then up to the station where a train for Charing Cross was due to leave in twenty minutes.

I get on and close my eyes, there was few others so the carriage was quiet. And remained so until we got past Ashford, then we began to pick up more and more at Staplehurst, Marden, Paddock Wood and then onto Tonbridge where I get off as more try to get on.

Up onto the main road, and to the left, heading out of town, is a church, St Stephen's, I didn't hold out much hope of it being open.

But they had a coffee morning, as well as a craft activity group, a jigsaw puzzle group and a cancer support group, all at table in the Chancel.

I buy a cupper, then set about taking pictures, though in truth there wasn't much, through the glass in the east window was good.

I did receive a warm welcome, and people talked to me, offering me advice, and that's what I take from this project, if ever it comes to an end, is that people are generally nice.

And want to do good.

I leave, and walk up the High Street, back over the railway, over two bridges that spanned two forks of the Medway, and up past two coaching inns, and there, down an alley was Ss. Peter and Paul.

A huge banner hung on the Lych, "Welcome" it said.

All doors were locked, of course, and no indication of a keyholder or when it might be open.

I took a few shots, then walked back to the main road where I noticed there was an interesting looking bar, Fuggles.

It was interesting: I had a pint of winter ale, half of Christmas from Belgium, and another Belgian tripel. With them I also made a large bowl of pork scratchings disappear.

I calculated it might take twenty minutes to back back to the station, so gave myself forty, and set off down the hill, taking a few shots as I went.

I got there in time, so stood on the platform waiting.

The train was busy, but I got a seat, and as it was going all the way to Dover, I could relax and snooze. Which I did, and as we headed east, the sun set and dusk began to fall.

A taxi whisked me through the busy port traffic and up Jubilee Way to St Maggies, dropping me off on Station Road.

It was twenty past four when I got in, time for a brew and feed the cats, all starving of course, before cutting up potatoes, onions and peppers for chorizo hash, which I had just about got down for when Jools came home.

Another good day, 11,000 steps, a new church snapped and shagged out, so we went to bed at half eight as there was no footy on.

Phew.