And welcome to our living room; our lounge, if you like.
Sorry, you have missed dinner, we had roast chicken with all the trimmings. Well, not all the trimmings, as Tesco were all out of stuffed gnu and pickled ocelot, so I did stuff the chicken, first time I have done that, and roast spuds, vegies, etc. And a glass of red too. Or two.
In truth I've been more than a little meh, today. Something with sitting up until and hour and a half past bedtime last night watching the football highlights. I wanted to make sure the gizmo we have for recording TV programs actually did record, rather than have a hissy fit and just refuse. I think it only likes show with Gok Wan, that I've never watched anything with him in only proves my point. Maybe.
So, I had a relaxing day, trying hopelessly to catch up with my reading; I did read the interesting bits from yesterday's Times; but the tales of bankers trying to get home from the Maldives using anything but dust-related-grounded planes even begins to pall after a while. One of three parties is going to win the election; or not. Depends on your point of view or if you care whether this is a good thing or not. Can they not cut a deck of cards and then we can all just get back to counting our overdrafts?
Yesterday, we went to the seaside. Although we live beside the seaside ourselves, I thought it might be good to go to Southend. Southend is in Essex, a county the other side of the Thames from Kent, but with a lower quality mud but many more orange women. I don't know why this is, maybe Essex men find that attractive. They also seem to have developed a few new uses for the word 'like' and 'whatever', which does make understanding them a tad tricky.
So, after a lay in until seven, rock and roll, we got our stuff together and headed down to the railways station to see how much we would be charged to go. Instead of the mortgage like sun the interweb had suggested, it was half that, and soon we were whizzing our way through the Kentish countryside to Ebbsfleet and then under the river and into east London; which unlike the TV program suggests is quite a cheery place and many people not miserable at all. In fact it looks like a building site, which is what it is, as Stratford is where the Olympics are to be held in a little over two years time.
We got off the future of railway transport and waited for a current commuter train to shake and rattle us to the Essex coast. It wasn't that bad, and dashing through the verdant Essex countryside was really quite pleasant.
And then we arrived in Southend. Southend, like many British seaside resorts has fell on harder times. I think that Southend seems to have weathered this better than many of the Kent towns, and really was rather nice. Right out of the railways station, over the four lane inner ring road to a half empty shopping centre, and then onto the High Street and towards the misty horizons just visible beyond and the seafront and the Thames estuary.
Right in front of us was a round swirly viewing platform thing, with grand views over the fun fair below, and the pier beyond. Ah yes, the pier. Southend pier is long; the longest in Britain and indeed the world I believe. It stretches out over a mile from the beach, right over the mudflats into the shipping lanes of the Thames beyond.
But it was high tide, and so when we walked out onto it, it was over the blue water and not the brown and slimy mud. Not many others were taking the chance for a very pleasant stroll, there is an railway which runs the length of the pier, but why bother when one can walk?
Kent seemed to get no nearer as we walked out over the water, and the smoking chimneys of Grain Power station remained shrouded in mist, and in-between, cargo and container ships plied their ways.
Once at the end of the pier, we sat down outside the cafe and ordered bacon baguettes and a cuppa; the baguettes when they came were huge and stuffed with smoked streaky bacon, and great. After wandering around the head of the pier, we caught a train back, and we soon back on dry land, and looking at the thrill rides in the fair. After photographing the best ride from all angles, we decided to go on, and soon were in a car, climbing vertically into the blue sky before plunging back to ground, looping the loop, twisting, and going round in a circle really quite quickly; and it was over. We screamed like children and enjoyed it very much. But for 30 seconds, £3.60 it wasn't worth a repeat.
We walked back along the High Street, past the owls (!), wondering what to do, but neither of us could face walking around London, which had been our plan, so instead we made our way back home, and indeed were back in time for me to light the first bBQ of the year, and soon we were sitting outside munching on lamb, mint and wild garlic burgers and sipping strong cider.
Today, we stayed around the house, planted stuff in the garden and did chores. And listened to the radio and read stuff too. Not exciting, but not work either.
So, Monday tomorrow, and back to the grindstone, peeps.
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