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.