It is Monday again, the last one before Easter of course, not that that matters much, one week seems the same; but Jools will have four days off at least. And she has just a four day week this week. Which means just four days of my own, and the cat's, company.
For this morning's entertainment I had to go to the Job Centre, or whatever they're calling themselves at the moment, as it would appear my paperwork got lost between Dover and Margate where the regional offices are, and so my claim is labelled as 'Dormant' and I have not been paid since I stopped my last job. So I had to fill in the small novel of paperwork again, which the upshot was that nothing had in fact changed since I last claimed.
This took an age to get done, because to have to queue to ask for the form, fill it out and then queue again to hand it in and tell them several times to annotate my file that I have handed this in. A woman with dead eyes said she would, which I have no choice to believe, although I don't of course.
The rest of the day I have done some chores; washed, mopped the kitchen, vacuumed and cleaned the bathroom. Yay, me again!
So, the weekend:
Saturday, we did our good deed thing as we took Jools' Nan to visit a friend north of Eastbourne in East Sussex, a trip of about 70 miles along country lanes and over rolling green and pleasant lands. We had the Sat-Nav to guide us, and it did it's thing very well indeed and we arrived in the leafy village with no trouble.
Having dropped Nan off we head off to head to Eastbourne and the rising cliffs beyond to Beachy Head, the Severn Sisters and Birling Gap. This may seem a random group of words, but Beachy Head is the tallest chalk cliffs in the country, with a red and white stripped lighthouse below amongst the waves. The Seven Sisters are a series of rolling cliff downs that end at the shoreline, and are a spectacular series of cliffs. And Birling Gap is one of the lowest points along the Severn Sisters, where the cliffs are just low enough to get onto the beach and then walk along under the towering cliffs.
We found our way through more country lanes and pleasant farmland, and then drove through a stunning village made entirely out of timber-framed houses and huddled close to the narrow winding lane that passed for a main road. And up and up as we headed towards the coast. And down, along a valley left by a stream, back along the coast road and then the lane to the gap.
Got that? Well, at the end is a car park, a grim 'hotel' and half a row of houses. I say half a row because the other half is at the bottom of the cliffs as the hungry sea has eatn the cliffs through the years. We have a coffee and a cake atthe hotel's coffee shop, we sit outside to avoid the screaming family of yummy mummy and her brood as she asks an endless series of questions about the food; is it organic? Do you have any fruit? And so on and on.
We walk to the set of stairs that go down to the beach and then onto the stony beach and to the base of the cliffs. I mean Dover has chalk cliffs, but these in places must be twice as high as Dover's; it's an impressive sight for sure. It's also low tide and so a large flat are of sand and chalk is exposed, and the occasional family is picking their way through the pools.
Jools and I decide to walk a way to see if we can see along to the lighthouse. Going was hard on the large stones that move with each step; I turn my ankle over a number of times. I say, we'll go to that cliff and see what's round the corner, and if there's no lighthouse, we go back. We get to the cliff and look round; more cliffs. We turn back.
The view along the Severn Sisters is stunning, as is the colours of the beach and the tiny figures of other walkers beside the cliffs.
We get back to the steps, flushed with the exercise, and decide to get in the car and head to Beachy Head itself. Beachy Head is, I think, the tallest part of the cliffs, and under the lea of the cliffs is a candy-striped lighthouse. And the cliffs are so tall you look down on it way below.
We park up and walk to the edge of the cliff, the drop takes our breath away. All along are bunches of flowers and small crosses to mark those that have travelled here in desperation to throw themselves over the edge. Words are not enough at this point and so I'll just leave it there.
We head back to pick up Nan, all the time listening to the radio as the football begins, and Norwich kick off against Leeds. If City win we almost certainly will be promoted. After picking up Nan, we head back east as the games draw to a close, and with a minute to go, Norwich score, and I jump up and down in my seat.
As we cross the Romney Marsh, the storm clouds gather, but it doesn't rain, but the sun breaks through making the grass seem frighteningly vivid.
Back home I pop the southern covered chicken things I had bought, and boiled some new potatoes and soon we were tucking into dinner. And then we sat down to watch the extended versions of the lord of the Rings films. Our plan had been to watch them all in one sitting, but ended up with one film a night.
On Sunday we had arranged to go with a friend to the north of the county to see a couple of chimneys demolished at an old cement factory. But Matt came down with an eye infection, and after some deliberation we decided to go by ourselves.
Right by Ebbsfleet International station, we saw a load of people gathered already standing at a fence by the side of the road; there was a place to park, and so we stopped there and joined them at the fence.
We waited an hour until the time of eleven, and a minute or so past, one of the chimney began to lean, I pressed the shutter of the camera as it leaned more and more until it crumpled as it began to crash to the ground. By this time the other tower also began to lean; the camera whirred away.
The bang of the explosives reached us and scared the birds in the trees around us, thus proving that light travels much faster than sound, whilst over beyond the second chimney too disappeared in a cloud of dust. And it was all over.
We then drove for half an hour to Ightham Moat, a Tudor manor house that I had seen pictures of, and thought it would be good to visit; I was wrong, it was very special indeed. The timber-framed manor house stands in a moat, and the light, although wasn't perfect, there was no wind or breeze, and so the moat produced almost perfect reflections.
We went inside, and each room had been restored and filled with period things from each age the house had seen. On hand in each room was a helpful guide to answer questions, and make sure nothing was touched. And photography is now allowed in NT properties, and so I snapped away.
It was really a delight, and a jewel of a house. Instead of getting a snack in the restaurant, we drove to the nearby village for a beer and a snack in the local inn before driving off, and back home.
Once home we had lunch and then snoozed the afternoon away as twenty two millionaires kicked a bag of wind around for my entertainment on TV, before I cooked our customary Sunday dinner of roast chicken, before we put the DVD on watched the second LOTR film; The Two Towers.
Phew
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