As the weather was to get worse, Jools dropped me off at the dogwalkers lay by on Reach Road.I walked along the wartime track to the cliffs, then doubled back to the cinder road, the bed of a gravity railway that was built down the cliffs some 115 years ago to transport material for the harbour arm extension
I chose this as its a gradual drop down under the National Trust's place before walking up the narrow track to the entrance, before the steps lead down under Jubilee Way to Athol Terrace and the town beyond.
Time for a coffee before it was time to leave, as Jools was going for a class, she ended up too late for, but for me, I fell out of the car with just my mobile for company and a walking pole, and set off for the town.
Back in the day I used to walk from our house along the cliffs to Dover, then up the other side over Shakespeare Cliff and along the cliffs to Capel and Folkestone.
Used to take most of six or seven hours. I might not do that again, but this was a start, and mostly downhill.
And a gentle slope, though would have been hard for adhesion worked steam locos, pulling wagons back up, but they would have been empty of course.
Not much in flower, but an ever changing chorus of buntings and skylarks soundtracked the walk, and made it most pleasant.
Out in the Channel, three ferries left for France or Belgium, their progress marked by a dispersing wake lit by the morning sunshine.
The sound of the port floated by on the breeze: only walk on marked walkways, the next departure will be the 08:45 to Calais, and so on.
There were benches to rest on, to take in the views, which I took advantage of, and not many folks around as yet, so once past the semi-permanent path to Fan Bay from the visitor centre, I met no one.
Down the Cliff Road until the narrow path lead up, I took that and found four Pyramidals just beginning to open, and three Painted Ladies fed off Valerians. 
My phone said I was in France, and roaming charges applied, so as I had turned roaming off, it wasn't until I got to the top of the path that I got UK phone signal back, and news that Jools was too late for her class, and instead was walking to meet me.
I clambered/slithered down the steep part to to path and steps leading to East Cliff, and near the bottom I met Jools.
She had a hair appointment at ten, half an hour's time, so I took the car keys and she strode of, while I took my time with the final stretch back down to sea level and a walk along the Prom to the car.
I drove round to Stembrook car park, then walked the 50 yards to Chaplins where Jools would meet me once she had been shorn, and we would have breakfast.
A few minutes later, newly shorn Jools appeared, and we ordered our breakfasts and brews, then sat to people watch the regulars meet and chat.
The breakfasts came, all the usual suspects, but no tinned tomatoes for me, thank you very much.
Full to bursting, we walk back to the car, then I drove us back home, up Jubilee Way.
And as is the norm now, nothing planned for the rest of the day. I sat on the patio when the sun shone, reading an old copy of WSC, while Scully laid beside me, happy as anything and purring gently.
I made chorizo hash for dinner, and cracked open a bottle of Chimay Grande Reserve to go with it, and was too nice not to sink the whole bottle, even at 9% ABV.
A fine end to a fine day
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