Shore leave.

Friday 29th August.

And so after three days at home, I can now say I am getting used to it. After having the limited space and restricted time on ship; to be home and havve the time to do whatever I want is just great.I wish I could say that I have used my time in a fruitful manner and achieved many of the tasks I have to do. Some things have been done, some mail answered, magazines read and pictures uploaded to Flickr. But there is planty more to do.I have struggled with switching sleeping patterns, and have worken at half three, half four and today, five o'clock. By mid afternoon I feel like a zombie and the sofa calls for a snooze. And so Sulu and I take 40 winks beside the French windows with just the sound of the fledgling seagulls and the occasional passing train to break the slilence.I took Julie's Nan out for lunch yesterday; a quiet country pub nearby that does great ploughman's and real ale. She has her 94th birthday next month, just after the wedding, and I have spent most of yesterday designing a photobook full of pictures and the blogs from our trip to Cornwall. I can't wait to see how it turns out, as more of them could be the ideal presents for birthdays and Christmasses for years to come.Three weeks right now will see us as the new Mr and Mrs H; and how great that still sounds. We have hammered the final details of the wedding with the planner, and now all we need is the weather. Fingers crossed.This weekend we have several things planned. First of all, tomorrow morning Julie goes to pick up her dress if the fitting goes well. And then we head out to the Isle of Sheppy for a 10 mile walk along the mud flats and broken ribs of countless acient wooden ships. And then on Sunday we head to Loughborough to ride on a preserved railway, and see the first all new steam locomotive bulit in Britain since the beginning of the 1960s. 'Tornado' is not yet running, but is undergoing trieals before the final painting and then main line tests before she can run on the main line and thrill a new generation of children, and many older ones as well!Summer is threatening to come back tomorrow, but they said that for today and it didn't happen. We'll take each day as it comes.Have a spendid weekend, folks.


30th August

Well, days like today make the weeks spent working away worthwhile. Summer returned, maybe just for 24 hours, but to see clear blue skies and heat hazes is great. It was just wonderful to sit on the sofa beside the french windows with the sound of crickets birds and passing trains.Jools went to have the final fitting of her dress, and I stayed at home as I had been ordered to by her best friend; it's bad luck or something.Jools was back by lunch, and we had curried lamb and butternut squash pies. I hold my hand up now and admit I didn't make them; there's a farmers' market here on Thursdays and I stocked up. The Bengal mince ones were spicy man, but great. And then a cup of amoretto coffee and a saffron bun and we were set to head off to the Isle of Sheppy.Sheppy is in the estury of the Thames and hardly rises above the water. In fact at several points the sea on one side of the earthen bank we walked along looked higher than the farm land the other side. Andyway, a quick zip up the M2 and accross the Swale and we were in a different kind of place. It is rumoured that there are still people on the island that have never left; I can almost believe it. I guess the highest point of the isle is about 20 feet above sea level, and is made of rolling fields or just plain flat ones.To get to the walk we had to drive through Leysdown; a seaside village full of amusement arcades, fish and chip shops, fun pubs and pie and mash shops. And lots of families walking between these places. Beyond there, the land flattened out and we were soon beside sand dunes and the sea. We found a place to park and consulted our guide book, and then set off.At least there were no hills to climb, and the scenery soon became dull. But the rarer butterflies and damselflies at least lightened up our way. After a while we came to the most remote Kentish church at Harty. It was quiet, at the end of a 10 mile dead end country lane. Once this had been on the road to arty Ferry, but two newish bridges amde the ferry obsolete.A little further on was The Ferry Pub, and glories, it was open. Drinking on a walk is never a good idea, and on a hot summers day the Belgian blond beer and Kentish cider slid down easy. But we had four miles or so to get back to the car, and I realised we had two hours to get there before our car would be locked in for the night.Panic.So, we route marched back along a wide earthen bank that served to keep the sea out and the farmland salk water free. On one side was salt flats and meandering waterways, and on the other side drainage dykes and fields. There were no sounds of modern life, just the rustle of bullrishes as they swayed in what breeze there was.Three miles on, we came back to the sea, and the nudist beach.I thought it was a joke, but there were several creased bodies on display, and may more in the long grass.I hurried on by.We got back to the car with half an hour to spare,as the mist was forming on the marshes, and the sky turning to pink.Sadly a serious accident on the M2 meant we had to labour through endless traffic for mile after mile.But soon we were back on the open road and heading to Dover.There was just enough time to get in, feed the cats and fire up the Weber before it got dark, and tucked into those well earned burgers and corn.


1st September

It seemed such a good idea at the time; agreeing to travel halfway up England to the town of Loughborogh to see a steam locomotive. And come back again the same day.Even worse we had to be back by six in the evening for a family Sunday dinner.So, it was hard to get up out of bed at half five in the morning, get our act together and feed the cats, checking for dead wildlife before heading out onto the empty roads.Seems like not even Sundays are immune to crazy drivers, and as we headed out of London a group of boy racers decided the best way to honour a dead friend was to drive at 50mph in convoy up the M1.And then there was the fog. But that we will skip over and say that we did arrive at the headquarters of the Great Central Railway unharmed at half nine.And then we had to wait around for my friend who was driving over from Suffolk to meet us. At least there was a buffet on the station, and in mid-war chiq we sat down to tea and cake to wait.We had come to see a brand new steam locomotive, the first one built in Britain since 1960 or so. The brainchild of a group of people that took some 20 years and £3 million to make happen. Preserved steam is a booming business over here, and steam hailed trains can be seen most weekends hauling boys of all ages up and down the land. But these steam engines are old and wearing out. So what better idea than to build a new one.And so the A1 Locomotive Trust did just that, and it is now ready to go to work.At the moment it is in just its primer, and not in steam, but from mid-September it will undergo mainline trials. So for now it is on disply for those interested at the Great Central Railway in Loughborough.We also could go for a ride on one of their other steam engines, and take pictures.Many pictures.And have lunch on the train as the smell of smoke mingles with that of frying eggs and bacon.There are worse ways to spend a Sunday.My friend who also like all things train shaped had a great time too. As did Jools; she loves travelling on a train and watching the countryside, and lets me go off and takes pictures, and together we really enjoy ourselves.Soon enough it was time to head back home for that date with a roast beef dinner. And we did it, with 40 minutes to spare. Nothing quite like a roat to make the day perfect after a hard days travelling and photographing.


8th September


Hello folks and welcome to another Monday morning. Quite how I have the strength to face another week is beyond me, but I have struggled out of bed, had a cup of vanilla laced butter pecan coffee and thought about what to do with this, amazing sunny day.First off; make some nice wholemeal bread rolls laced with various nuts and seed. I know the recipe well enough to throw guessed weights in the bowl and mix, then kneed. Ah, smell the yeast already.I check my mails to find I have none. Well, I'm not the best online friend these days, so no real surprise there. Next, to download the pictures from the weekend and load them into photoshp to be messed about with later.Jools has gone to work, and left me with the cats and a sink of washing up. Well, I think I can squeeze that task into the day at some point.Friday:Well, after spending the day watching more rain falling outside, I stayed in and listened to the radio and actually got round to some chores. It'sabout time, Ian. I did bake a vanilla cheesecake, and it was with some self control that I kept it in the fridge until Jools came back to share with. Nothing quite like cheesecake, and the vanilla one is my favourite, and with a whole vanilla pod and a spoonful of vanilla extract; set the dial for maximum vanilla-ryness!Jools headed up to her Dad's for a final try on of the dress and some thinking about beading decoration she was not too sure about. She decided to leave them on. She seems happy enough, which is for the best really.As it was now later we sent out for pizza. Mmmmmm, bbq chicken flavour, and some cold beer. Cider for Jools. And enough left over to have cold for lunch tomorrow. Works for us.Saturday.More chores this morning; off to the tailors to the final measurment of my suit and settle the bill. Pay the florists bills and arrange delivery of buttonholes. And pick up the wedding ring for Jools. She has a 22 carrot one with an inser single diamond. Looks really nice.Back home for luch; cold pizza and cheesecake. Even more vanilla-ry now. Oh, it's a hard life.We have the afternoon free, and so we head up to the cliffs for a walk and some photographs. It was a breezy day, and the Englsih Channel was all capped with white horses, and the ferries were diving through waves. It was also a bright day, and it was glorious to walk along the edge of the white cliffs. Fields went down right to the edge at times, and the rolled hay bales made for another great subjest for yours truly and his cameras.In the old coastguard staion is a small cafe; and so we stopped off for tea and cheese scones. All with the views across the channel to France.Sunday.I have made friends with one of my contacts from the Flickr website, and we planned a day up in London. So it was early that we left the house and cats to pick Bob up to head for Folkestone as engineering work meant there were no trains out of Dover all day.At the filling station there was a young mother with a baby in pushchair, and she asked the teller if they sold baby milk. No, was the answer. So, there being seven hours until the shops open we guessed that was how long the baby was going to wait for breakfast. As we drove up the road she was slowly pushing the sleeping baby back home.In the end we went up the motorway to Faversham to pick up a train as it has double the service that Folkestone has, and we would arrive in London at Blackfiars which was nearer where we wanted to go to. The arrival at many of the London terminii stations from southern England into London is to cross the Thames with stunning views both ways over the many bridges.The promised sunny weather failed to happen, but we made the best of things. it was only a short walk to Waterloo to pick up the train to Hampton Court. Another crossing of the river was called for, and the wind whistled through my summer clothes, with a reminder that autumn is close by if not already here.Hampton Court palace is just an half hour train trip out of the centre of London, and could be a different world; in many ways it is. Built by Henry VIII, it is a wonderful place with stunning gardens all set in huge grounds beside the Thames. We did not go into the palace, but made do with the grounds and gardens. Most of the eople there were Americans; not that I have a problem with that; just showing that locals really don't visit stuff on their own doorsteps.We had a shedule to keep, and so by half two we were back on the train back into central London for a date with the East End.Well, not quite the East End, but St Catherine's Dock and beyond to the edge of the new commercial centre around the old docks at Canary Warf.Many of the old warehouses have been turned into luxury flats and condos, and in-between former docks held yachts, boats and other rich mean's playthings. Occasionally, there were reminders of its past use; brightly painted cranes and other industrial detritus served now as eye and camera candy.The promise was of three tradtional East End pubs beside the river; and it was The Town of Ramsgate that won out for our custom. Mainly as they served Adnams on draught and still had roast beef left. So, we drank some, and ate roast beef which was welcome.We had intended to walk back to Blackfiars, or at least to Tower Bridge, but as as a bus stopped as we passed a stop, we decided to hop on and make it back to the station for an earlier train.And so as the light of the day faded we rushed through the Kentish countryside back home.



12th September

In one week I will be in a panic.So will Jools.So will all our families.It will be T minus three hours and a couple of minutes. After something like 9 months planning will hopefully all come together for one glorious afternoon and evening.This week there have been the odd chore to do, some final bills to pay and general organising stuff. Talked to the photographer yesterday, he is nearly a friend and so we have done a deal. He is staying with his partner for the meal and evening thing. And so tomorrow is the first major item of the wedding; namely, the stag night. Or as it is described on my Facebook page; Stag day evening thing. As I mentioned before many of my Air Force friends are away in Afghanistan and so can't come; many others live further away and due to losing their jobs can't come either. And so, 24 hours before I climb on the train to head to London town I have just one friend confirmed who will be there.At least it will be a cheap night. Anyway, the guy who is coming is my best friend and we see each other only a couple of times a year and if it is just us, then share a bottle of wine during the afternoon and then o to a swanky resturant for a slap up meal with lashings of ginger beer and maybe a show in the evening.It won't be a dead loss for sure. Sunday, the Orient Express is coming through and so we will be heading into Folkestone to see it and maybe take some pictures. We will be taking my new local friend, Bob; yes, that's his real name. And sadly has a very similar sense of humour and is a bit on the geeky side, needless to say we get on great. Just pity poor Jools sat with us all day.It all begins on Wednesday when my Mother and my friend Rambo arrives on the 14:10 train from London. The next day many of my other friends arrive and that night we hope to have a bbq here in the flat. Or in the garden so the smoke detector doesn't go mad and call the fire brigade.That afternoon, we are all going to be transporting the booze from Tony's lock up to the venue, and then sorting out the final arrangements.Friday morning, I have to go round putting signs at major junctions so people can find their way to the venue, and then try not to get too nervous. A wee dram might help.And then another might help the first do its important job.And so on. And that really is it; all systems go. I have already started to fill on various forms as Mr and Mrs Jelltex, which is fine, but made me realise how darn close it is now.Thank you for all your good wishes, and I will try to keep you informed as the days go by.