If we did, we would have to fond a place for the cats to stay as our plan fell through for them to be looked after in the house. And so we called the regular cattery we use, and they could take them, and cars had been driving up their lane. Thing is, it's a narrow country lane on a hill, and would be interesting to say the least.
So, we decided to go, loaded the car with clothes, hot drinks, food, maps and cats and set off. All went well as we left Dover, traffic was light, and we made Denton, where the cattery was with no trouble.
The lane was tricky, but the car did it fine, although the driveway to the farm proved a drive too far. We abandoned the car in the entrance to the farm, got the cats and walked to the office.
The cats were not happy at all, and let us know all the way in the car, but were no quiet. We handed them over, turned and slithered down the yard to the car. I reversed into the lane and we skidded down to lane to the main road and hopefully northwards.
We turned on local radio so to get the best traffic news, and hopefully be able to drive round trouble rather than get stuck. There is a slight hill leading to the start of the M2 north of Canterbury, and trucks were having trouble. It soon became clear that the road was blocked and we would have to head west to the M20 where traffic was still moving.
We turned off at Canterbury and headed out into the countryside on the A28. It is a main road, and normally moves well through the rolling downs and pretty villages of the Kent countryside. On Friday it was a foot deep in snow and slush with two ruts showing the road below. We drove at a stately 30mph, and made slow time. I was expecting the road to be blocked by an accident or worse at any moment. But we moved onwards and eventually came into Ashford and reached to on-ramp to the M20.
The radio now warned of lane closures due to ice on that road, and so we set off at 50mph and into a blizzard. The two outside lanes did close, and we drove in single file as the weather worsened.
I had come to the decision that if things did not improve I was turning back at the next junction. And as if by magic just before the junction, the snow and ice suddenly cleared and we sped up to 70 and could use all the lanes.
Traffic on the motorways, the M20 and M25 was amazingly light, and we made great time. There were no queues for the tolls at the Dartford tunnel, and so we went under the river and came out into the bright sunshine of wonderful Essex.
And they had had little snow, we saw grass, and in the light it looked vivid. We blasted alnog the motorway until we had to turn off and head north and east on the A12. This roads heads north through Chelmsford, Colchester, Ipswich and on to Lowestoft and our destination, although that is something like 90 miles.
Traffic was light and we zoomed north, we stopped at a gas station near Colchester to buy some sandwiches and for a stretch before getting into the car and moving on.
North of Ipswich, the good roads run out, and our way would be on a single carriageway road which twists and turns, and if there was an accident there are few diversions. However, we drove on, and the sun shone, and we had no mishaps. As we neared Lowestoft, the skies darkened and it was clear we were in for some serious snow. As we pulled up outside Mum's the snow began to fall, with big and sticky flakes.
I won't go into what happened inside, things are difficult for sure. She lives in a deluded state that all is fine while she slowly becomes housebound. I could not be bothered to deal with that and so we left after some chat which avoided the elephant in the room and drive to the hotel.
At least in Britain now we have reasonable accommodation for travellers, sixty quid for two nights is not bad, and so we checked in and headed to the pub opposite the hotel for a beer and a chat. Talking things through with Julie allowed me to collect my thoughts and a conversation I knew I would have to have with her began to form in my head.
After if got dark, we went out into the night for dinner. I knew where a good fish and chip shop was, or was good when I lived here, and so we set off on slushy streets towards the town centre. We found a place to park and got cod and chips and then headed out to the harbour to park and eat the food from their newspaper wrappings. The fish was wonderfully fresh, the flesh bright white. Coming from a port, having such fresh fish means that the grey fish shops sell away from the coast is a poor imitation. In front of us, workers clambered over a maze of scaffolding constructing an accommodation black for a gas rig. It was huge, and I was so impressed I took several shots through the windscreen with the camera balanced on the steering wheel.
We then drove over to the town church so I could snap it at night. I balanced the camera on a grave and took some shots.
A good friend of mine, and his family, lives about 5 miles outside town on the main road to Great Yarmouth. The road was tricky, as the snow kept falling. We parked at the top of their street, as once again they live in a slope and it would be bad having the car stuck there.
It was great to meet up, and we talked about music, photography whilst drinking tea and eating German stollen.
We headed back to the hotel at nine, and the roads were even worse as the snow had fallen continuously. we made it back, parked up and went to our room and cranked up the heating whilst watching the weather reports for the rest of the weekend on tv; and it wasn't good.
Saturday dawned to the news that the snow had stopped, but only seven football matches had survived, Norwich's being one of them, and so we had to think about getting to the City. We hoped the trains would be running.
We drove to the station and I asked the guy if the trains were running, he said yes as if I asked a silly question. So we had an hour to kill before the train and so I set off up the High Street taking shots of the town's historical buildings. And Julie had to buy a coat, as somehow we had forgotten to bring hers with us. It happens.
So, photographs taken, coat bought, we boarded the train and settled down for the 35 minute trip to Norwich. We went through the very wintry broadland, all sheep sheltering beside hedges or dykes.
Norwich was covered in snow, but not so much as at the coast. We boarded the free bus to the city centre and headed up the hill towards the castle.
I worked out that I had a couple of hours before I would have to meet up with friends near the ground. And so we did a whistle-stop tour round the city's mediaeval buildings. Church after church crowd round the wonderfully named Tombland area; snap, snap snap went the camera as I recorded church after church. We also went to the cathedral and then headed up towards the market area where we parted our ways.
I walked down the hill to the bar area between the station and the football ground. My friends were there waiting, well, drinking. We chatted and generally caught up.
At half two I walked to the ground and then up to my seats. Darn, it was cold, and the game was poor, but it was great seeing my team again, although I recognised very few players. Norwich won, somehow, and so I left for the station to catch the train back to Lowestoft and the the reunion.
Julie met me at the station, and after dumping stuff in the room we walked to the venue, another pub, to wait to see if any people would come.
And we waited. And drunk some beer. And waited some more. And sometime after seven, friends began to arrive and the smiling began. Julie and I went to the restaurant upstairs for dinner, and came down again, well fed, and fond that more than a dozen had arrived.
Of course, I wish I could tell you what we talked about, music for sure, but the booze was flowing freely, and my memories become cloudy at this point.
The weather forecast had been grim for Sunday, and neither of us were looking forward to driving back to Kent. Strong wind and more snow was expected, and so we wanted to head off early and see how far south we could get.
In the end, the weather stayed good for us, and apart from having to drive to Norwich before heading south to avoid a loose horse on the road to Ipswich, we made good time, the main roads were clear, and we arrived back in Kent before two. We had seen some snow all weekend, maybe a foot at most, but right here, on the road between Dover and St Margaret's, huge drifts had built up by the wind, six maybe eight feet deep. We were shocked; it seems that the village had been cut off for the most on Saturday.
We got inside, cranked up the heating and put the kettle on, things are always better with a cup of tea!
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