I Live for the Weekend

After four 12 hour night shifts, I was ready for the weekend I can tell you. Although I did spend the first few hours of it sparko in bed. In fact I laid in bed snoozing until nearly two; and then rushed about going to the country butchers and then back to Dover to get my barnet cut. Until my dear Papa, I have luscious thick hair that shows no signs of thinning, and so it gets so long and becomes unbearable.

The other great thing about a haircut is finding out the local news and gossip; although I have no idea who they're talking about; it is fun to listen.

Freshly shawn, I head to the Railway Bell for a pint and a packet of pork scratchings and wait until it's time to pick Jools up from the factory. This done it was back home for the weekend.

Yay!

We sit down to buffalo mozzarella and beefsteak tomatoes, drizzled with olive oil; a simple meal, but it is wonderful and tasty. The chicken we were going to have for the main is still in the fridge as we were so full.

Once again we sit outside and watch the sun go down. This is great as I have not done this for four nights and to see the sky turn from blue to purple to black is wonderful. As we sit there in the shadows, moths flit from flower to flower.

Saturday, we get up fairly early as we are to head off to the Medway towns, between here and London, for a gathering to protest at photographer's rights, as an amateur photographer got hassled and then arrested a few weeks back.

The full story here:

http://www.medwayeyes.co.uk/rightsandwrongs.html

We go up early, to find the place and then to do some shopping, or try to. Who would have thought it hard to buy a pair of walking shoes, not boots? We went in all sports places and apart from over priced fashion things there was nothing.

Chatham is not a pretty place; I dount if it ever was. The town is a horrible mix of fast food joints and amusement arcades. Once it was home to the royal dockyard, but that is now a museum.



After we have second breakfast of back sandwiches, Jools and I split and I head to the demonstration. By ten, about 50 people had turned up, from all over the country, and the national press turned up as well as the local ones. We posed with our cameras and then swapped stories of our experiences, and then Jools and I met up before heading just up the road to Rochester where there is a fine castle and cathedral on the banks for the Medway River.



Although the four towns that make up Medway have separate names, they just blend into each other, but Rochester is certainly more up-market than Chatham. It has a fine High Street of timber-framed houses, many nice pubs and of course the castle and cathedral.



Needless to say I take many pictures.

The castle is splendid; Norman, although partly ruined, it is just missing it's wooden floors otherwise it would be complete. We walk up the flint spiral staircase to get wonderful views of the town and river. It is good to see all sorts of people coming to places lie these; families, couples and Sun readers.



The cathedral is not really elegant, but is certainly English, and is a delight inside, full of tombs and memorials. The welcome from the dean as we walk in was warm, and we were handed a guide, and I deposited £3 in the collection.

Outside, a troupe of Morris Dancers had gathered to block the road and to dance, celebrating the harvest I guess. But, mostly to drink real ale judging by the empty glasses and tankards. It is good to see something English; other British countries seem to have an identity, but not England, just a mix of everyone else.

We retire to the local pub, Ye Arrow, and have a meal and a beer before heading off to take more pictures of the Eurostars, this time as they cross the Medway next to the M2 motorway. That done we head home for a while before the sound of steam will beckon.



That night we head into the countryside to a small village station, Headcorn, to see a steam engine pass, and me and a friend can take pictures. Hundreds of others had also gathered, and so we all waited for the appointed hour to arrive; and for the sun to set as it was right behind where 'Tornado' would be. As luck would have it, just before showtime, the sun went behind a cloud and we had perfect light.



And there she was, about a mile away being held at a red signal. We wait. And then she comes, slowly, all a mass of steam and smoke; quickly gathering pace. And then she is upon us. Shutters whirr and we try to catch the train as she thunders through.



And then all is silent again, just the smell of smoke to betray that she had ever been here.

Today we have had a quiet day, just lazing around getting chores done, and shopping. That done, I watch some football, make dinner and we talk. Just talk. And it's perfect.

And now I am still awake, as I prepare for another week of night shifts and trying to sleep during the day.