Jools and I have about 45 minutes in which to chat before she makes that return trip to the factory. I have breakfast and then have a shower before laying on the bed with my cat, Molly.
I wake up three hours later; as promised the sun is up and shining through Simpson-esque clouds. Nan and I have a quick lunch before we climb into the car and head out into the Kentish countryside.
Almost everything is harvested, just maize now is in the fields; the rich yellows and golds have now been replaced with ploughed fields and hedgerows laden with berries.
We drive out to the village on Ickham, which, thanks to my friends on Flickr, I knoew was home to one of the iconic Kentish views. Oast houses were where in years gone by, hops were dried by fires lit below; so to make beer. Oast houses are just about redundant now, but the buildings are now converted into wonderful homes. Ickham oast houses are four in a row, and each one a family home, and I would imagine, wonderful to live in.
The village is picture perfect, all brick buildings, thatched cottages and wonderful church, of course. I go around, take pictures as quickly as I can. There is a welcoming looking village pub too; maybe another day.
We drive to Preston to the village butcher we like to use, and get some wonderful looking things. I leave a pot of quince jelly that Jools made this week, and they knock off a few pounds of the coast of the meat. Nan and I head back, via Grove Ferry where there is a wonderful looking pub beside the river. Wonderful cooking smalls are coming out the door, and I glimpse the ale pumps on the bar. Better not, as I feels o tired and we have 20 miles to drive back.
In the evening, we drive to Sandgate to a fish and chip restaurant already has a table reserved for us. Although, it has to be said, fish and chips does not taste the same off a plate; cod and chips may be becoming a rarity due to over fishing in the north sea. We'll enjoy it while we can.
The drive home through the gathering gloom of an autumnal evening was wonderful; once again the lights of Calais winked at us over the 23 miles of the channel.
Saturday morning, Jools and I were up at the crack of dawn; well, at 6 anyway, because we were off to London for the Open Day weekend. On that one weekend a year, many building throughout London are open to the public, and more importantly for me, available to take photographs in.
We drive down into Dover and get the fast train to London Bridge station. I say fast, it has about three less stops than a normal service, but saves some 10 minutes in time. So, soon we were whizzing through the countryside, through towns just waking up, and then after our last stop, flying through the suburbs of the capital.
We get off at London Bridge and walk into the morning activity; Borough Market is already open, and people are heading there to get some early shopping done. We head the other way, towards the river and beyond the square mile of the city.
We find a cafe open, and go in for 2nd breakfast; Jools has scrambled eggs and beans while have have scrambled eggs with smoked salmon. As we tucked in, outside there is the occasional passer-by, but as is normal at weekends, the city is all but deserted.
We walk round the block and discover that half the city of London has the same idea as us and want to have a look inside the Lloyds of London building. We join the back of the queue, but it moves quickly; street entertainers have been laid on to make the time go quicker. A man in false moustache on a penny-farthing cycle stops to chat to children and makes much of pretending to be a Victorian gentleman lost on the 21st century.
Lloyds Building is a modern masterpiece, from the outside it looks like something from Bladerunner; but inside it is magical. 13 floors of office space with a huge central space with escalators criss-crossing.
For me it was photography heaven. We, and most others, walked around in a daze at the size and splendour of it. I took what seemed like hundreds of pictures, but soon enough it was time to leave.
London is interesting to walk round; we had time and so headed down towards St Pauls and then on the Threadneedle Street, past the Bank of England and into Fleet Street.
The old Daily Express building is an art deco gem, and although only the lobby was open, it was worth just seeing that. Many seemed oblivious to it's charm and seemed to be just going down the list. The statues and carvings were wonderful, and each one was recorded with my camera.
We moved on.
At the other end of Fleet Street is the Royal Court of Justice. It looked like there was no queue, but before we went in, we go to the ancient pub over the road, The George, for a quick pint.
The Royal Courts of Justice are normally out of bound to those with cameras; but feels very church-like instead. There are stained glass windows, tiled floors and long, long corridors. We were not allowed to take pictures in the courts; but could everywhere else. Inside court 4, we had a talk by an official, and she went through procedure. We were introduced to a court official called The Tipstaff. Google his job, it's an ancient post, with many modern and old duties. Sadly, most of what he does is dealing with children abducted by one of it's parents.
Over the road, beside the pub, is an alleyway, we head down there into the warren that is the Inns of the Court. Just a few steps off Fleet Street is a sanctuary where the Law Lords and solicitors have their chambers. In the middle of this warren, is the Temple. This is a location used in the Da Vinci Code, but was indeed built by the Knights Templar as a copy of the first temple at Jerusalem. It is round and beautiful; as yet I have not been able to get inside though, and Saturday was no different.
Oh well.
We walk through the crowded streets, past the crowds at Covent Garden and into Soho. We headed to Neal's Yard to an Italian place we like to eat that's not too expensive. But, it was crowded, and so we walk on, and on the next street is a swish looking place that is not too pricey. We have just a main course, a bottle of cheap rose wine and finish of with coffee and dessert. Julie has banana and coffee cheesecake and i have Tiramisu. Just the right amount.
We walk through theatreland down to Charing Cross in time for the fast train back to Dover. We dozed as the city was left behind and the day turned towards evening.
That evening we had another bonfire as more of the hedge had been cleared away, just hope we haven't killed it. We sat on the patio, me sipping a good malt, and watched as planes flew overhead to France and maybe a couple of meteors crossed the sky.
Sunday turned out to be as grey and misty as forecasted; and so all we really did was set out for our local preserved railway, as they had a gala on. The East Kent Railway is on the rails of a line that used to serve the Kent coalfields, and used to twist and tuen through wonderful villages to the mines. All are now closed and the railway closed to. A short stretch is now open as a heritage line, but for them it';s early days, and clearly there is much to do.
We rode on old electric commuter strains with good old fashioned slam doors; I bought a book at the shop, and i was happy. As the drizzle began to fall, we headed back home for lunch and more mundane things, for me watching football and Julie did more stuff in the garden.
That night I cooked roast lamb with all the trimmings; Jools helped with the vegetables, and it all came out rather wonderful.
Sadly, the working week begins again, and I get the feeling my days at the factory are drawing to a close. Oh well, it's been good.
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