Wednesday 10th December 2025

Wednesday.

Middle of the week.

Or used to be until we retired, and then it's just a milk delivery day, and for me, a rest day from the gym.

And as I could lay in to eight, my stupid brain had me awake at ten past five.

Again.

I lay in bed and put The Sound of Football podcast on, at least for half an hour, before leaping out of bed, getting dressed and going downstairs where Jools had made a coffee.

Not much on at first, but an otherwise packed day with bridge in the morning and the churchcrawling group in the afternoon.

First up was to drop Jools in town for her next fitness class, then go back home for breakfast and be ready for ten past nine when I would leave for Walmer and the bridge morning.

Whatsapp chimed, and as we only had four playing, were anyone to drop out, we'd not have enough for the game. And indeed one lady messaged to say she had a migraine, so the morning was cancelled.

Instead, I went into town to buy Jools a Christmas card, then meet for lunch at her new favourite place.

Before then, as she was having a hair cut, I went up to St Martin's, where Kent County Council had built a proper path round the gun emplacements as it is part of the Saxon Shore Way.

It opened last week, so I thought I had better record it, and the morning light was glorious, so I took a dozen or so shots walking round past the three emplacements until the view over the town and St James opened out, with the castle in the background.

Snapped.

And that was that.

I found a parking space in Ladywell, walked down Biggin Street, calling at the Card Factory to get the card, then to Café Melange.

And then to wait for her to arrive, I looked at the menu card and thought a cheese and bacon toastie would be splendid.

Which when it came, it was.

Anyway, Jools arrived and had a frittata: cheesy mushroom thing with cheese and chorizo on top, which she said was filling.

Anyway. That eaten. I go back to the car to drive to Walmer to be in place to pick up Martina to take her to Eastry for the church.

Just time to pop into the Berry for a pint of Harvey's Old I thought.

But on arrival, it opens now at four, in some three and a half hours.

Bugger.

Instead I went to Deal and parked up, listening to a podcast to fritter away the forty five minutes until it was time to pick Martina up and drive to Eastry.

I take us out through Upper Deal, Sholden and nearly to Sandwich before turning down the Eastry by-pass, turning off and going into the village and finding a parking spot outside the church.

We had forty minutes to wait for the rest of the group to arrive, so when they did, I began to read John Vigar's description of the outside of the church, the tower especially, and then entering through the lean-to porch and down into the Nave.

The Warden was waiting, and we all shook hands, so I carried on with the description, pointing out the paintings above the Chancel Arch, and then the Dominican Perpetual Calendar on the hexagonal pillar on the south side.

We talk more about funerary hatchments, something new for the warden to learn, and touched on other things she did not know about her church. But all done in a friendly manner.

It was getting dark when we left at twenty to four, and several cars did not have lights on, even when the gloom deepened after I dropped Martina off, and on the Deal Road going through the wood.

They must drive by brail.

Back home and we have a brew, were not hungry, but I use up some breaded chicken to make chicken in a bun, followed by a slice of Christmas cake with a brew.

Yet more football in the evening, which I won't bore you with the details of.

Bed at ten, and I slept well for once.