Wednesday 5th February 2025

Spring is coming.

Not only with this, but three Winter aconites have now flowered in the lawnmeadow. Drops of golden sunshine scattered among the worm cats and clumps of sleeping grass.

Jools woke, hoping her should might be getting better and allowing her to return to work on light duties on Thursday. Sadly, it was little better.

So she kept up the regime of ice and rest, and though the day there was some improvement, but always the sharp jab of pain if she moved her arm too far in a particular direction.

At work it was the end of year results, and we are to get a bonus, which will be paid with my last full month's pay.

Which is nice.

No news on how much it will be, but it will be quite substantial.

At least in our eyes, and an unexpected windfall before we retire.

I get some rolls out of the freezer so we can have bacon butties for lunch, though there is little else, I hope to prevent me from going to Tesco every day. Every other day is OK.

Not much else to report at work, so I finish at three, try to stay awake before preparing dinner.

Crunchy cubed potatoes with Parmesan cheese, garlic granules and chopped rosemary, to go with the rest of the leftover Côte de boeuf, pan fried in garlic butter, and served with more creamed spinach and a portion of Boston beans.

Readers, it was glorious. As was the remainder of the XV I drained from the half filled bottle.

Newcastle played Arse in the League Cup semi-final. Already 2-0 up from the away leg in London, they dominated the second leg and won 2-0 again, to win the tie 4-0 overall. Was this the same Arse that beat Citeh 5-1 three days earlier?

Your daily constitutional

It has been said that what the UK needs is a codified constitution, like the US has, where all the checks and balances and limits are in one place, rather than as it is with the constitution being defined over hundreds of years and thousands of acts of law, written on vellum scrolls.

It is just two weeks since Donald Judas Trump took office for the second time, and depsite having a codiefied constitution stating clearly what can and cannot be done, he is driving a coach and horses through the very thig he swore to uphold.

Four years ago, the constitution and legal framework that underpinned it, just about held and there was a transfer of power. Trump's legal challenges all failed as his legal teams could not state soething in a court of law that was untrue, lest they be debarred.

I'm talking to you, Rudy.

Since then, many checks and balances have been removed at State level, and in the Supreme Court, while the legal process to convict Trump stared to late and ran out of time.

In fact, the political process should have been enough. Had the GOP followed conventions and impeached Trump. But after Trump incited a riot that was going to lynch the vice-Presdent, the GOP cosed ranks and followed the felon.

In short, a constitution is only as strong as the mechinisms that ensure it is followed, and with judges wavering in enforcing the very laws Trump is breaking, the consitition becomes less meaningful.

THe UK's is not perfect, but under attack by Johnson in trying to force his Brexit deal through, the constitution survived, and in the end breaking conventions of the House of Commons, he resigned rather than face the consequences of his actions and lies.

Tuesday 4th February 2025

Tuesday. And Jools is off work, likely the whole week. But we'll see.

First morning we sleep through the alarm to six ten, and its a mad scramble to get ready for work, have coffee and all that, all for seven.

Once I check my mails, I quickly nip to Tesco for some supplies. Mainly something for lunch, and a few other things. Tesco has a few schoolkids in, heading to the nearest academy, but the rest of the shop away from the meal deals, was pretty empty.

Back home by eight, and so we have coffee and breakfast, then Jools puts on ice pack to bring the swelling down. In fact she has a series of packs which mean there is one on her sore shoulder pretty much all day.

It goes without saying. she is fed up with the whole situation, and has to accept that she really can't do that much other than read or snooze. Even cross-stitch hurt a little, at least until the ice packs and drugs kicked in.

We have bacon butties for lunch, while I carry on working. I have less than 35 days to do. Maybe even less than that, and can hear the clock ticking away very loudly.

The day fades away. I pack up the work computer and we have a coffee and a wad.

I defrost some chilli for dinner. Cook some rice, and serve with beers/cider and some tortillas to give the meal some crunch.

Its pretty darn good even if I say so myself. As the cook.

Jools heads to bed early, worn out, so I listen to football on the headphones and sip a wee dram or two.

Monday 3rd February 2025

Quite a day for a Monday.

Jools's shoulder had been bad all weekend, but we didn't think for a moment she shouldn't drive to work, even when I had to help her get dressed.

Maybe we should have been more realistic about it, but she went to work in the car, leaving me with Jon's car, as Scully was off to the vet.

I had put her in the porch the previous evening, and she stayed there all night, as she wasn't to eat until I dropped her off at the vet's so her blood sugars could be monitored.

The other cats were wary, what with one of them in cat prison and making a heck of a lot of noise about being banged up again.

I worked for an hour, then scooped Scully out of the porch, popped her in the box and loaded her in the car for the quick run to Whitfield.

Thankfully, not much traffic about, and I got a parking slot just outside the door to the surgery. We had to wait 15 minutes for the nurse, and after signing a form, Scully is taken from me and Jools was to collect her about four.

Back home for breakfast and down to work, getting stuff done until about half twelve when Jools messaged me to say that her employers would not let her drive, and that she was being taken to the physio in Canterbury, but would be stuck.

She would get a bus back, then to Whitfield but then how to get Scully and Jools back from there.

Once Jools was on the bus to Dover, I called a cab, and for £38 took me to Hythe to the factory to collect the car.

The taxi came, and we had a pleasant twenty minute chat as he took me up the A20, then over the downs into Hythe, dropping me off outside the factory gates.

Some twat had parked their Audi so close to ours, the driver's door would not open, so I got in the other side and climbed over, just glad that my shoes were clean.

Out the gates and along the seafront, past the Imperial, down and past the swimming pool before getting back onto the main road, then up and over, back over the downs to the motorway.

It was just before rush hour started, so easily turned to take the Alkham Valley road, no sign of the Drellingore flowing, so into Temple Ewell, then up Whitfield hill to the vets.

Scully was ready. A day in a cage, monitoring and ten days insulin came to £260. This is the new normal.

I took her to the car, along with the supplies, then back home in the gathering gloom of a winter's dusk, and to home.

Jools was back. She has done something to a tiny part of her shoulder, too inflamed to have much done, but she has extra ice packs, and hopefully that and stronger drugs would help.

I warmed up some ragu and cooked pasta for dinner, all done in half an hour. Scully was fed and I gave her an insulin jab. She didn't complain.

However, from now on there will no food left out, so no grazing, so that Scully eats as hours apart so the insulin is delivered equally.

This brought some complaints through the evening.

Sunday 2nd February 2025

We woke late on Sunday.

Jools's shoulder was no better, if anything it was worse.

We would take it easy again today.

It was going to be a glorious day outside, endless blue skies and full sun, if cool in the breeze.

We had coffee, put on the radio to listen to Radmacaroons and then have fruit for breakfast ,before I washed up and thought about more gardening.

There was the Buddleia to cut back, so I got the hand saw out and began sawing.

I put the branches in the brown bin, tidied up and put the tools away.

After a mid-morning brew, I prepared the Côte de boeuf for lunch, part boiled potatoes. Then began cooking at half twelve, the beef being seared before finishing off in the oven.

It was a little rarer than I normally have, but it was tasty, and enough meat left over to do something with later in the week.

Potatoes were sliced and doused in goose fat and done in the air fryer, while the creamed spinach was defrosted and warmed, while the mushroom were last to be done, cooked in butter.

Not bad, not bad at all. And also not huge, so we were not sleepy in the afternoon where I watched Spurs win at Brentford, hear Man Utd lose at home to Palace and later, Arse thrash Citeh 5-1.

That's a lot of sport.

We had hot cross buns for supper, then to bed after I had captured Scully as he had another date with the vet on Monday.

Poor little pudding.

Saturday 1st February 2025

Jools has hurt her shoulder. No idea how, just woke up one morning a couple of days ago, and it bloody hurts.

And its actually got worse. Sadly.

So, we decided to little again, meaning the oft postponed trip to Great Chart is off once again.

After the first coffee we go to Tesco. Not much needed, so we rattle round in record time, pay and are out just by eight.

We eat much less meat than we used to, so we only need go to the butcher every two months or so, and this was the weekend to go, as we were out of sausages and burgers, as well as Jools requesting steak.

So a pleasant early morning run to Sandwich then out to Ash and across the fields to Preston, as the clouds cleared and the sun came out.

The road through Nash was almost flooded, so bad that we returned via Wingham before doubling back.

We get supplies, including a couple of teriyaki duck breasts that we would have for dinner later that day.

Jools said she was hungry, so I asked if we should have breakfast out, and she said we should.

So, instead of coming back along the bypass, we came back through Deal and Walmer, before stopping off at the corner café.

We were the first customers of the day. We order breakfasts with hash browns and brews.

When it came, was just the right size, not too big, as sometimes they can be. We finish up, pay and head home, a short ten minutes drive back through Ringwould.

I put the shopping away, make brews and put the radio on.

I cut the echium down with a saw, using the new gardening gloves Jools got the other day, pack that in the bin, and happy with that job done.

I could have done the Buddleia at the same time, but thought I'd save that for Sunday.

Anyway, Norwich were on the tellybox again, this time away at Watford. Not our happiest hunting grounds.

An even first half was drawing to an end when one of their players punch a Norwich defender and so was sent off. A minute later Norwich scored, and that was that.

Watford push hard, but Norwich held firm, pretty much, so move up to eighth.

I cook the duck and make roast potatoes, which went verry well with a bottle of pink fizz.

At three, Ipswich lost to the only team below them, Southampton, 2-1, and to the cloud above Portacabin Road darkens.

Meanwhile, Forest rattle seven past Brighton, a week after Forest had lost 5-0 to Bournemouth.

Then there was a rugby match to watch: Ireland v England, which was the usual chaos and ended with Ireland winning again.

Friday 31st January 2025

Friday.

Jools has knacked her shoulder, so no yoga on Friday, nor no work, as Scully is to go into the vets to have her urine monitored.

I had caught her and put her in kitty prison, aka the porch, over Thursday night, and at half eight, Jools took her to Whitfield for a procedure to have her bladder drained.

In the end, she didn't need the procedure, as she did the business in the metal cage and enough for the tests.

Bad news is she has to go back Monday for a full days of glucose monitoring as she eats. But for now she has good heart, kidney and liver function, and not doing bad for nearly 16 years old.

I worked, and I found out that I am to be excused the faff of the annual assessment as it offers no value to someone soon to be leaving. Fine by me.

I clear the last of the travel expenses that the computer keeps finding, and that got approved.

One final meeting at midday, and the week is done.

Jools brought home a snack for lunch, then took me into town dropping me off at the station for the quarter past two train to Canterbury.

It didn't look that cold, so skipped the extra layer, but sitting on a bench on the very open platform 3 for half an hour, left me quite chilled to the bone, so it was a relief when the train came trundling in.

We on the platform piled on, three young men sat behind me, talking at first about the training courses they're on, but soon moving onto drugs and crime. They did drugs but not crime, but listening to them talking about the different types of pot and something called "spice" that knocks you out for eight hours.

They complained about not being able to sleep for days on end, instead playing video games.

They got off at Aylesham, where I heard there is a right crime wave going on with bikes and cars being stolen most nights.

I got off at Canterbury East, my back allowing me to walk down and back up the steps from the subway under the tracks, then across the bridge spanning the inner ring road, which was jammed with traffic, as usual, and the main reason we don't come into the city,

Instead of cutting through St Mary de Castro churchyard, I turned right and went through Dane John Gardens, which was full of fifth formers engaged in some practical biology on park benches, or eating fast food from paper wrappings.

In a flower bed, a Green hellebore could be seen, and a juvenile seagull sat atop of the fountain waiting for food.

Then into the city, heading towards the tower of the Cathedral, getting close enough to grab the "classic" shot looking down the timber-framed buildings on Butchery Lane with the cathedral, all golden bathed in the late afternoon light.

And so on to the Thomas Becket where I was to meet my friend and colleague, Pete.

He was yet to arrive, so I bought myself a pint of Meddlesome Priest and took a seat in the corner to wait.

There's a worse way to spend the afternoon.

Pete arrived, he got the beers in, and the people on the net table had a somewhat lively Egyptian dog, who was rather interested in everything, but more so when there was the chance of a snack to have.

After picking up Scully, Jools fed the cats, then drove over to canterbury to meet us, and once we had drained our forth glasses, we wandered up to Sun Street to the snazzy burger joint for dinner.

I had a triple deck smash burger with candy maple syrup bacon and an alcoholic milkshake, as well as spicy dirty fries.

It wasn't bad, and after four beers, we had the munchies for sure.

It was nearly nine, so we bid Pete farewell, and we walked back to the car along the dark and fast emptying streets of the city, past the New Marlow, all brightly lit up, along the mill race and back to the car.

Jools drove us back, getting home at about half nine.

A good day.

Thursday 30th January 2025

Thursday at Chez Jelltex, and the new that our time in work is quickly running out.

All this means that the usual January melancholy has not appeared this year, and we are all bright-eyed and bushy tailed.

That being said, the daily grind does go on, at least for Jools, as I have not been given more tasks for the final few weeks of work, just follow up on what I have done.

And maybe deliver some training on the areas of the business I know better than other in the department, so the knowledge isn't lost.

After a cloud start, it was a glorious day. Bright, sunny but cold, and someone had been promising all week he would do some gardening when the weather allowed.

Me and my big mouth.

So, down to work and the usual stuff.

I call round colleagues and tell them I am leaving, and when, so that they know. I then empty my calendar from 22nd March onwards, cancelling or declining meetings.

That felt good.

I have a brew with a tine of grapefruit, then fill up the feeders, being so slow in doing it, apparently, the blue tits sit a foot away and chirp their lack of patience.

As I walk away, birds fly in from all directions to feast on the fresh seed. They are also going a good job in turning the lawnmeadow over in their quest for lost seed.

The afternoon, or part of it, was taken with preparing dinner: Spanish style green lentils.

The other half was spent clearing the dead plants from the front garden, and putting the clippings in the bin.

I am doing this so the Witch Hazel which is just about to produce its crazy flowers so can be photographed.

It took less than an hour, and stand back in a job pretty well done, and how good that and the border beside the drive is.

Onion, tomato, pepper and courgette are cut finely and fried. Wild garlic sausages and chipolatas were fried, then diced and added before the rinsed lentils added before topping with smoked paprika and stock.

Cook for half an our on simmer after boiling, season to taste and its ready.

Could not be simpler, and it was fabulous.

I open a bottle of XV to help it down and feel like a million dollars.

More football to listen to on the radio, but distracted as we had to isolate Scully after ten, so she does not eat as she was going in for a urine test in the morning, and needed to be sedated, possibly.

I had to wait until ten fifteen until she came in. I let her eat then put her in the porch with a blanket, water and litter tray.

And then to bed.

Five years

It is five years since full economic Brexit happened.

Two uneventful weeks followed, and then COVID hit.

Untangling the effects of both from the total losses of GDP and national income down to personal incomes is difficult.

We can compare it to similar European economies, and see that the effects of COVID have meant most economies have recovered, the UK's has not.

Any small piece of good news of upward climb in data has been praised as an effect of Brexit, movements the other way is always down to something else.

Yesterday, the Torygraph ran two huge puff pieces, one from Nigel and other from Frost each shouting about how much a triumph Brexit has been, or how the true potential of Brexit can be unleashed.

If Brexit had been the success that was promised, such puff pieces would not be needed.

This week the Chancellor, Rachel Reeves promised sweeping away huge swathes of environmental protection to promote growth, when all that is needed is closer alignment to EU standards and easier access to the SM and CU.

Such things are unsayable by either of the two main UK political parties, but until the reality of Brexit is discussed and admitted to, we as a country cannot move on.

Yesterday, I saw a large billboard on Dover Priory stating how the Government could help businesses trade with the EU. Before Brexit such help wasn't needed, and since then, most small and medium businesses have given up on trading with the EU because the red tape that was promised to have been swept away has instead increased.

I will continue to comment on Brexit when there are substansive changes in policy.

Wednesday 29th January 2025

Aka the night of chaos.

Aka the night of too much football. This is the first season that the Champions League and the other two European competitions switched rom groups of four teams playing each other home and away, to a group of 36 who play each other, mostly, once. Some don't play each other at all.

The top eight go through to the round of 16. The next 16 go into a playoff round next month, the bottom 12 go home.

And all games kicked off at 20:00 GMT and promised chaos. But delivered, mostly, as expected.

Citeh had to win and hope results elsewhere went their way so they finished 24th or higher, other than that, the other three English teams were all nailed on to finish in the top eight.

Before that there was the rest of Wednesday.

Rain. Cloud. More cloud. But after a bright start, and the half arsed promised I made to do some gardening failed as the rain began to fall at two.

Jools brought home fish and chips. Sausage and chips, that is. I had brews and warm plates ready, then sat with Scully and Poppy to follow the games and the chaos.

Citeh were 1-0 down at halftime to Brugges, but fought back to win and qualify for the play-offs, winning 3-1.

Not good enough

When asked which she preferred: bats or newts, Chancellor Rachel Reeves said she preferred neither, she wanted growth.

And that there is the problem with Labout in power: they are trying to deliver the policies that they think the Mail and Express want.

Growth, while outside the EU is almost impossible, therefore to suggest wrecking decades of environmental protection to deliver growth is the only answer, is plain wrong.

Rejoining the SM and/or CU would deliver almost double digit growth without having to gut environmental protections.

I can't seriously support such a Government, even a Labour one, that is so willing to scrap local planning laws. These might not be perfect, and NIMBYism at times, but its the best we have.

Building on the green belt, destroying meadows, woods, fields and parks will result in things, climate change, only getting worse.

And a mere five years ago, Labour voted against Heathrow expansion, now Reeves is all for it, all in the name of growth.

Neverending growth is impossible, Enron taught us that, but it seems Labour did not get the memo.

And there's no point in supporting the Greens who opposed the greatst green transport project, HS2, while supporting public transport, apparently.

I comment on football so much as its easier to deal with than politics and real life.

So endeth the lesson.

Tuesday 28th January 2025

A day of several weathers.

But at least the wind finally dropped so the howling and roaring of the last week was now silent.

Its the second day of Jools training her replacement, so she leaves for work just after six to try to keep up with normal work.

I hear her moving about, so I end getting up at ten past five, make coffee while Jools has a shower and get dressed.

And so is gone. So I put a podcast on, and wait for dawn to come, which due to the heavy rain outside, came very late indeed, in fact it was still pitch black at half six. Dawn did come, a pale light chasing the shadows away, but slowly.

I am all caught up at work, but with Henrik and Rune back, I have people to talk to, and to bounce ideas off.

On top of that, Rune and I have been given an ill-defined task to do. We have done our best, but need guidance.

We have a meeting with one of the two people who have been assigned to be our interim manager. We tall her the situation, show evidence, and she says, cancel the activity.

Simple.

I run out of enthusiasm at half one, and could feel a migraine coming on, so its up to bed for a laydown in the dark.

The afternoon passes.

I get up and prepare the batter for fritters. I feed the cats and have a brew.

Outside, the sun has come out, though was by then setting, so its going to be a cold night

After eating, we tidy up and make a final brew of the day.

Another day gone.

Monday 27th January 2025

After this week I have just eight working Monday mornings to look forward to.

These things are important I feel.

Jools calls me, it was five past six, and time was getting on. Outside the latest storm raged on, throwing rain at next door's west facing walls, and had blown the bedroom window wide open and the curtains out getting wet too.

I pulled the curtains in, close the window and go to the bathroom.

Outside it was getting light, though not by much. Coffee was waiting on the table, and so began another blue Monday in Chez Jelltex.

Back when I started the shot a day project, I was travelling much more than now, so a shot of where I was, or out of the plane did fine. But now with these endless wintery days of wind and rain, I really am running things to take shots of, it would be the evening before i found today's subject.

Next year will be the tenth year I think of the project, and a good point to end. So I press on.

I start work, not much to deal with either, so I stop to make a brew and have breakfast. There's a pause in the rain, so I go outside to fill the feeders and scatter sunflower hearts for the birds.

And back inside, back to work.

Lunch is oatcakes with fresh butter and marmalade, and is as wonderful as ever.

And filling.

Work slows to a stop, I log off and listen to the radio as darkness falls outside.

No cooking as we're off to the gym, so I wait for Jools to return.

And at half six we head out. No fog this week, but there is damp on the teeth of the wind, and soon will be throwing it down.

I have to use one of the upright cycles, but causes all sorts of pressure on my back, so seven minutes in I swap to the recumbent one and do the rest of the work out to a soundtrack of Blancmage, David Bowie and Dire Straits.

I sit in the car to listen to the discussion on Spurs while more people come and go and the heaven open and rain pours down.

At eight, Jools comes out. I pick her up at the entrance, and once back home, cats are fed and I put the pizza in to cook, and ten minutes later we're eating.

Sunday 26th January 2025

Sunday.

And a day that began with sunshine and fairly calm conditions which would turn to gales and heavy rain in the afternoon, so if we were going to do anything, it would have to be early.

So it was that soon after half eight we were heading to Samphire Hoe to get some steps in and for me to look for orchid rosettes.

Jools had come down on Saturday, and found the place jammed due to the sunny weather, but on a now dull and increasingly breezy Sunday morning, just us and the dogwalkers about, as the sea wall was too dangerous for fishing.

I walked up and down the metalled track beside the railway, looking hard, but I saw no sign of an orchid. The ground had been churned up well by the cattle, and the orchids will survive that, but not one rosette to be seen.

And just gorse in flower, the Carline Thistle seen was last summer's gone to seed.

After 90 minutes we were back at the car and driving home. Jen was watching the Australian Open final, so we let her be, instead going home so I could prepare lunch, peel and soak the potatoes for lunch of toad in the hole, roast potatoes and steamed veg.

Toad in the hole is the bastard offspring of Yorkshire pudding and sausages: simply a Yorkshire with sausages in it. And I had thought on Friday how good it would be to have toad in the hole over the weekend.

The sausages were rolled up sausage meat, just like Grandad used to make. The batter had to be prepared the day before, so to rise properly.

I don't know how to describe the flavours of toad in the hole, roast potatoes, vegetables and gravy, but the flavours, textures, especially with the crispy ends of the pudding and the superb roast potatoes made it a delight.

Just what I had wanted.

Only problem was to stay awake during the afternoon. The first half of the Palace v Brentford game was 1-0 at half time, but when I awake from my slumber, it was 1-2.

Villa v West Ham was underwhelming to be honest, ended 1-1.

By which time the weekend was nearly over with, and with hot cross buns for supper and a fresh, strong brew, it was soon time for bed, and the week ahead beckoned.

Saturday 25th January 2025

I switched on the laptop Saturday morning to see an official notice of the death of one of my former colleagues and friend, Hans Peter, in Denmark.

I only found out a week agao that he was seriously ill and had been for two years. He spent his last days in a hospice.

He was 59 years old, the same age as myself.

Form whom the bell tolls, we know not.

Another weekend where we did have plans, and yet it was all too easy to cancel them.

Truth is, the 14,000 or so steps i did Friday had made my thighs ache, and my back was telling my brain how much it hurt.

And although the day started out with rain, skies would soon clear and it would be sunny. But we were tired little troopers.

I went to Tesco on my own again. This time the shopping only coming to about sixty five quid, though with no beer or cleaning products. Anyway, being the last weekend of the month, spending less is always good.

Back home for ten past eight, I make breakfast of fruit and fresh brews, while Jools puts the shopping away.

So for the morning I did some cleaning in the kitchen, emptied the bins and watched birds in the garden. Made all the more dramatic by the arrival of a Raven, half filling the back garden. This means we have had all seven resident UK corvids in the garden already this year, and its only the end of January. And that included Choughs as we have had two visitations by them already, after their reintroduction up at Dover Castle.

By the time Norwich kicked off at half twelve, it was sunny outside. As they played we ate chorizo hash and drank beer. City 1-0 up in a dull and uninspiring first half. Conceded a leveller soon after the restart. Got one back, then in a five minute period near the end, scored three more. 5-1.

No idea where that came from.

Scully and I sat on the sofa listening to the games on the radio and watching Final Score.

And after that, Citeh came from behind to beat Chelsea, as we munched on fresh sausage rolls for our supper.

The darkest days are over

I read a post on Blue Sky that said as off the 22nd January, the ten darkest weeks of the year were behind us.

What is sure is that from now on, the change in amount of daylight will become increasinly obvious.

For obvious reasons, this January has flown by, much quicker than in previous years, and the realisation that Jools and I have about 9 weeks, maybe a little less, to work.

I look most days around the garden for signs of spring flowers. Not much sign yet, but they are coming.

And there is the fact I go to the gym now. Not much, just once a week, but it is a start, and its not something to avoid now.

Change is happening, even if the changes are small.

We were meant to be giving up booze through the week, but somehow that doesn't seem to work. Maybe we should try this week. Every other day to start with?

At work, Jools says she is being sidelined as plans for the rest of the year are being made, plans which obviously do not include her, so that takes some getting used to.

Anyway, we are where we are, and soon things will change again.

Friday 24th January 2025

We made it to Friday again.

Well done team.

We woke to hear Storm Éowyn raging outside. It was the deepest low to hit the UK and Ireland, had gusts of up to 187 km/h in Ireland, but not here.

But we got gales and rain. On bin day!

So, once Jools left for yoga, I put the bins out and made sure they were up against the lamp post outside the house, so not to blow over in the wind, like many's already had.

Back indie for breakfast and a brew, then to work with three meetings and much updating of databases and spreadsheets.

By mid-morning, as forecasted, the winds dropped, the sky cleared and the sun came out.

As we had to catch an early afternoon train to London, so had taken the day off work, so got chores done, did a tip run and so on.

She got back at half eleven, I had one last meeting, then a pasty Jools brought back for lunch, then pack away before leaving at one for the station.

Camera batteries were charged, and memory cards cleared.

All ready.

We even got a parking space outside the station, so filled that, went inside to buy our tickets and then had half an hour to wait, so went to the buffet for coffee and chocolate.

The train, when it came was pretty empty, so we got seats with a table, and so watched through the large window as the countryside flashed by.

We dozed on the way up, so it seemed quick that we arrived at Stratford, where we detrained and got ready to cross down to Docklands.

The phone rang: it was the vet.

Scully has diabetes, and so needs treatment, but first an assessment on how serious the condition is.

Jools talks with them for ten minutes, with a stay planned, though not booked, so her urine can be tested for crystals.

We had 80 minutes, so I asked Jools if she wanted a drink: coffee or cider?

Coffee, no cider. So I take her to Tap East where I was considering the beers on taps, when I spotted the bottled beers in the cooler, and I cannot resist a Chimay Blue. So, we linger for twenty minutes as I supper the strong but delightful beer.

We walked through the glittering palace that is Westfield. Full of people and shiny things, though nothing really appealed to us. A monument to consumerism if leaves us cold.

Up the escalator, then over the wide footbridge to the regional station, where we went down to catch a Jubilee Line train to Canary Wharf.

We didn't squeeze on the train about to leave, instead getting a seat on the next train which would depart a mere three minutes later.

Not much to report on that trip, the train screeching once it went into tunnels beyond Canning Town, we got out at the deep Canary Wharf station, pausing to take a couple of shots.

We took the two flights of escalators up to the concourse, then stop to take obligatory shot of the entrance to street level where we were to meet friends.

We went to the square, and took seats looking back at the entrance to The Tube, and the buildings surrounding, towering over everything.

Our friends, Vicki and Justin, arrive, and after receiving a leaflet of the Winter Lights display we were ere to see, we make our way to the Elizabeth Lone station, taking in the sights on the way. Not that we were going anywhere on it, or yet as it turned out, just for the installations and architecture.

We walked though several foyers and atriums, across roads before coming to where the station was bult in a concrete box in a former dock. On top of it, a wooden arboretum bas built on top, with another mall with eateries and restaurants.

And leading to it is a tunnel-cum-bridge, all futuristic, and currently brightly painted as its housing an art installation.

We all took several shots on the way to the arboretum.

The open area was dotted with lit figures, like they'd OD'd on Ready Brek, looked good, but time was getting on.

So back down to the ground floor, and back to the bridge and back towards Canada Place and Canary Wharf.

Next stop was Wren Landing, where although there was an installation, it wasn't that photogenic, but the view over the dock was, all lights reflected in the still dark waters.

We turned back, and then right as we made our way to Westferry Circus, and two installations that could be seen there.

A one way system for pedestrians was in force, so we followed that, an dover the flyover crossing Westferry Road to the Promenade.

There we found a series of hoops that lit up and changed colour with the music playing. I should have taken a video but the world and his wife were going the same, so I took a few shots and moved out of the way.

In the centre of Westferry Circus was another installation, Error, swirling blue lights that look best on video.

So, dinner was calling. Justin had said they liked Zizzi, so to get there we had to walk past one more installation, a load of floating balls in Cabot Square. They change colours and the still night means the reflections are perfect.

We go back inside, and up three flights of escalators, get a table near the kitchen, not bad considering we hadn't booked.

I have Caprese (of course), then followed my slow roast pulled pork ragu, which was pretty good. We all ate well, and no one needed a dessert.

Time was getting on, so we decide to head home. We part from our friends and walk back to the Jubilee Line entrance, but as we approached the entrance, staff we pulling across steel mesh gates, and signs outside stated service was suspended.

Quickly, we headed back to the Elizabeth Line, past the coloured tunnel, then down several more sets of escalators to platform level, and manage to squeeze on a train heading west. As we had to change at Whitechapel before heading back to Stratford.

We reached Stratford, made our way to the DLR to catch a train to the International station. We were pooped.

We walked to the entrance to the High Speed platforms; we had just fifteen minutes to wait for a train direct to Dover.

On the platform, two Eurostars hammered by making a lot of noise and shifting a lot of air, before our train glided in. We get seats, and Jools closes her eyes and soon drifts off.

The train rushes to Dartford, under the river and into Kent, and then south to Ashford, Folkestone getting us back to Dover by quarter past nine.

We climb in the car, drive home where the feline welcoming committee stated they though the long delay for dinner, some four and a half hours, was unacceptable. But ate well when fresh bowls were presented to them.