Monday 17th November 2025

Six months back, Jen asked if I would take her and Jane to Gatwick Airport for their flight to Miami.

It seemed and was months ahead.

But the time had come.

In terms of which airport was easier to get to, Gatwick comes out top for us in East Kent, at least by car.

By train I think its London City, but now with Thameslink and Crossrail, Gatwick, Heathrow, Luton and Stanstead are just as easy really.

But Jen wanted a lift.

So, what time is your flight and what time do you want to arrive?

Flight at two, and be there for ten, Jane said.

OK, I'll get you there for ten.

Might be too early, I thought, to drop off your bags, especially with a low cost airline. But ten it was.

So, I will pick you up at eight, and hour and eighteen minute drive to Gatwick allowing for two hours.

As it was, I was up early, had coffee and dressed by quarter past seven, so set off for Jen's to load the car and see when we could get off.

They were ready, but some last minute tasks to do, like close all the windows, with one jammed.

It took 50% the strength of one RAF Armourer to get it closed and locked.

Cases jammed into the car with enough space on the back seat for Jane, and Jen in the front.

Have you got your passports?

I checked them four times already, says Jen.

Off we go.

There really is just one way to Gatwick: up the A20/M20, onto the M26 then M25 and ten miles down the M23.

It all depended on traffic.

Traffic was a bid mad in Whitfield, getting onto the roundabout before going down the Hill and out along the Alkham Valley, but that was as bad as it got.

We turned onto the A20, onto the motorway the other side of the tunnel, and up to Ashford, Maidstone and then west along the M26.

A glorious morning, sunshine too bright if I were to be critical, shining in the side mirrors or rear view mirror.

But we made such good time I slowed down to sixty.

Not much traffic in Kent, and even on the M25, there was light traffic, so we stopped at Clackett Lane for breakfast and a coffee.

We had ninety minutes to make the ten o'clock target.

The last leg, then.

Along a few miles, then turn south onto the M23 to Brighton, but even then traffic was light.

Amazing.

I dropped them off at twenty to ten, just going to the drop off cost £7, but what can you do.

I got out their cases, hugged Jen, and I was off.

Not as manic as Heathrow, but then where is. Back onto the motorway heading north before turning to Kent at the junction with the M25.

I cruise at sixty, enjoying the light traffic and glorious weather.

Back in Dover, I go to Tesco in Whitfield for supplies and lunch, then back home for half eleven and lunch of sushi with Jools. Even sushi in Tesco is expensive, £9.50 each for two fishy selections.

Maybe that's a tad too much for a light lunch at home?

The spring bulbs that Jools planted two weeks back are already sprouting in their pots, so I take a shot.

I got some stuff for dinner: crunchy breaded haddock and a pack of grains with some of the last fresh corn, and after a lazy afternoon I cooked dinner so that it was ready for five.

We wash up and tidy things away, not much to go other than maybe watch the Wales game on TV.

Then the phone rang.

We had arranged to meet Mike and Helen in town for dinner, and they were wondering where we were, as they'd been there ten minutes.

We were honest: we forgot.

And we would be there ASAP.

We rushed into town, at least parking was free, then rush across Market Square to the restaurant.

You haven't eaten already, have you, asked Mike.

Oh no, we lied.

A white lie.

I chose the two smallest starter an main course: insalata Caprese followed by Margherita pizza. I hoped the pizza would be Neapolitan thin crust.

It was.

So, we ate, talked and drank for a couple of hours, we not as full as we thought we would be. But still full little Hobitses.

Jools drove us home, I had a wee dram whilst one of my shots on Flickr approached and passed one million views.