Friday and beyond.

Friday dawned cold and grey, and the land was still covered in a thick blanket of snow, the wind had dropped, and so there was little chance of drifting. And so Jools decided that she would go to work and being a Friday, this was one of those days when I had to go along to the job centre to play their games and they ask those questions;

Have you been looking for work? How?

In what have you been looking?

And so on, so I needed the car to get into town for the ten to two appointment. As usual on such days, I went to Tesco on the way from the factory and did the weekly shop; and being so cold and the snow laying thick, it was nearly empty of people; but the shelves were full, and so I went round, got everything on the list, found a newly opened till with no queue and was on my way home before the morning rush had begun.

A fog had come down, but many idiots were driving around with no lights on, apparently oblivious to the conditions, cocooned in their metal eggs on wheels with Chris Evans blaring out on the radio; why care about any one else, eh?

As the snow had fallen at the end of the week again, we did not get our rubbish picked up, but it is no trouble to put the bags in the bag of the car and drop them off at the council recycling centre. Even now, two days after the scheduled collection, some folks have their bags still out; get this people, the dustmen are not coming until next week!

I'm really not that angry, or don't think I am. Maybe I'm a grumpy old man years before my time??

So, I head to the job centre in the afternoon, and this time as I had actually done some work, and failed to follow the procedure, I had reams of paperwork to fill out. And then berated for not following that procedure, even though I had told the woman two weeks before what I was going to do. Oh well. Put it down to experience I guess. As I walked out, a guy either drunk or high was waiting to explain that he had looked for work the previous two weeks, whilst another one who was 5 minutes late for his appointment was told that he could not be seen and would not be getting money or an appointment until well into next week. Maybe he was a dosser or a waster, maybe he was late for another reason.

I picked Jools up at 5, and we came home along the lane that goes along the clifftop; all narrow and twisty, and only half ploughed in places. The light was clear, sunlight illuminated the cliffs 23 miles away in France and the lights shone out in Calais.
That night I cooked pan-fried smoked salmon, some herb-boiled potatoes and some steamed vegetables. It was wonderful and light, and I realise how long it has been since I cooked fish.Not so long next time, Ian.

We were up with the larks on Saturday. Earlier than them, probably, as we wanted to catch the quarter to seven train out of Dover to head up to London for a wander and take some pictures, and maybe go to a gallery or two. In the end we did not get to a gallery, but had a fine time anyways.



It was still dark as we drove into town, dawn breaking over the channel as we parked to car near the station and walked the 100 yards through the roadworks to the station and on to the train. The new high speed trains get us to London in 67 minutes, and for a while we travel beside the motorway, leaving the cars travelling at 70mph training in our snowy wake. Then through the Weald and across the Medway bridge along the Thames estuary and then under the river, out into the Essex marshes before entering a tunnel to take us to St Pancras. It is all rather wonderful and quite modern.
St Pancras is always heaving with people, waiting for a Eurostar to take then to Paris or beyond, as well as trains to the Midlands and places further north. We make our way to the underground to take us to Paddington station, the main station to the West Country, as I had not photographed it before, as to the north of there, we planned to walk along the Regents Canal to London Zoo and then climb Primrose Hill to look over the rooftops of central London.

It was a plan.



I took the shots inside the station, and then we both decided that we were both a bit hungry, and so we headed over the main road to a sidestreet where we spotted a Cafe Uno, but opposite was a genuine Italian cafe. So we went in and had hot paninis and huge Americanos. I enjoyed the food and the surroundings so much, I took a shot of the place and the owners and promised to put them online; which I have done.



Fully refreshed, we head past the station and head north. Along Eastbourne Terrace, new office building stand gleaming and empty, their flush lines reflecting the sunshine and clouds; I snap a couple and they come out real good. We cross the lines leaving the station and get bird-eye views as the diesel trains power out west, right under our feet.



Under the Westway, we head through a leafy street lined with white stone expensive looking town-houses until we come to a small bridge. This was one of the canals leading to an area of London I had not visited before, Little Venice.

Little Venice is the confluence of three canals, and where they meet is a large triangular area of water, with narrow boats tied up. We walk along the Regents Canal, more and more boats are tied up, and look very nice, if ramshackle. Some are works of art, some are clearly falling apart. And yet, those that had chosen to live afloat, thse boats had not moved for years, and many had small gardens near their moring points, with chairs, decking and barbeques; and it seemed to us to rather defeat the whole idea of having a boat. But who am I, or we, to judge?



We follow the canal as it goes through more leafy suburbs, past churches and Bohemian cafes and shops. It disappears in a tunnel and we cross a main road and inbetween some industrial places before our way rejoins the canal. We pass many joggers, puffing away, but most seem to enjoy it, and I realise that we should be doing something like that, if not running, but walking, more often.

Nearer Regents Park, we pass huge houses that overlook the canal, which would cost millions to buy, and wonder what the owners had done now or in the past to be able to afford such places. Best not to think about it.

At the park we set off in search or some toilets, and pass parents watching on as their children play football or learn Rugby; the cricket nets hand empty, but summer is not far away. Once refreshed, we head back across the canal and up Primrose Hill, runners and joggers pass us; families let dogs run free, it's not a bad way to spend the morning.

Once at the top we see over to central London and beyond to docklands and Canary Wharf. We could follow the course of the Thames by the buildings alongside it., right to the Houses of Parliament.
Once satisfied with our pictures, we head down the hill, past the entrance to the zoo and into Camden, where we stop for more coffee and a slice of pecan pie.



Julie wants to go to nearby Kentish Town where there is a bead shop, so we walk to the tube station, I snap a couple of shots, and again in Kentish Town, and they all come out really well, all lovely lines and angles. It was one of those moments when you know you just know the shots were good; hard to explain.



We then think of going to Waterloo, to the IMAX cinema and maybe take in a showing of Avatar in 3D; but once we had travelled across London on the tube and found our way into the cinema, not as easy as you would have thought, we find it sold out all day.



So we walk beside the railway line that goes into Charing Cross, over the footbridge across the river towards the Strand, and to Villiers Street, where I had seem a dingy wine bar, that I thought may be interesting. We paused outside before pushing open the door and heading down the narrow stairs. The bar opened out into a cellar, with a curved roof, and many small spaces with small table with candles burning, no electric lights.
I order a tawny port and Jools a Chardonnay, and we retire to a table and watch the other customers. It's a stunning place, under the feet of most of London, but felt hundreds of years old.

Once we had finished off our wine, we headed back out and decided that we had walked enough and so was time to go home. Once inside St Pancras we buy a chorizo and spicy chickpea salad each, and settle down in our seats and wait for the train to leave. And soon enough the Essex and then Kentish countryside is flashing by. As we near the coast, the snow begins and gets thicker, until we leave Folkestone and run beside the cliffs with the Channel on our right side.

We are home again.

Once back inside, we crank the heating up, put the coffee machine on and have a couple of saffron buns. Outside the sun goes down, and dusk spreads from the east.