Anyway, the weekend.
I had decided to meet up with a guy who i got friendly with last year at the box factory; lets call him Terry. Terry is a good guy, on occasion acts a bit odd, but most of the time is hyper and a great guy. Anyways, I leave work at two as everyone had the day off after the commissioning process has been completed, and everyone headed off to the Carting circuit over at Chatham; I bailed as I was going out for the evening.
So, Jools dropped me off outside Terry's house and I went up to his flat to find him smoking with a friend. They were drinking beer, and playing some dance music through some tinny speakers. Then they broke out the weed. Now, I have noting against pot; it's a free country and whatever gets you through the day. But, it was my first up-close experience of cannabis, and how it affects people.
Well, I saw Terry's eyes glaze over as he puffed on the first joint; and then he remembered the cake. When I worked at the chicken factory, and someone said something really dumb; we all used to ask, 'are you on space cake?' Not really realising that there really is a thing called space cake. Someone had made Terry a strawberry cheesecake, laced with weed. They each tucked into a helping, and started giggling.
As all I was using was beer, it was already tiresome; and then another friend came round; so more joints, more beer and lots more arsing about. But, after a couple of hours we did finally head out to the pub. I got a round in and we went to the beer garden, where the rambling conversation continued. Terry's judgement began to fail, and with some people watching he rolled a huge joint and lit up.
He went inside to get a beer for the three of us, but came back with tequila. Tequila and I have an understanding, we leave each other alone or it gets messy. I get messy.
After an hour or so, Terry and his friend began to argue, and his friend stomped off. I told Terry to go home without me, as the thought of more beer and then watching them smoke more pot. I stayed in the pub; called a taxi and went home.
Once home tequila made good its promise and i got messy.
Sigh.
So, I woke up full of the joys of spring on Saturday morning; no, really. And as it was bright, i thought we should go out and have breakfast. So, we drove to Deal and parked up along the seafront, and walked along the pier to the cafe. I ordered a medium breakfast and Jools a small. and we had a flick through the first copy of The Times we have bought in a month.
Breakfast was great, and just what my stomach wanted. The view from the cafe along the promenade a quarter of a mile down the pier, is great. A long row of pastel coloured town houses, pubs and restaurants.
It was a heritage weekend, with many historic houses open to the public that norally are closed. Top of our list again this year is the pilgrim hospital, St Bartholomew's in Sandwich.
It was intially locked fast; but the warden came to open it up, and we went in and I photographed it and took in its history. There was a steady stream of other visitors as we walked around.
Afterwards, we decided to head to the main parish church, St Clements.
we walked along the main road, and then through a housing estate, down a footpath and along the old town walls. And there it was; on Knightrider Street: I kid you not.
St Clement's is a huge church, originally Norma, but enlarged regularly over the centuries, and so now it is huge. It has few stained glass windows, and so is light and airy inside. And full of history too. There is a chair in the middle of the front pew that has had to bottom of Queen Victoria and Winston Churchill; oh, and the Queen Mum; God bless her(!)
The guy on the desk at the door wanted to tell me so much about the history, and I tried to be polite and listen. They are trying to restore the church; the roof has been done and now the tower is trying to be saved. we put a couple of pounds in the box.
Time for a drink then, and we walked into the centre of town. I saw that another ancient building, Noah's ark, was open. we go in and chat with the artist who lives there, and with his wife, about light, food and the town in general.
We walk down the street to a pub, the Fleur de Lis, as I have been asked to photograph it for a friend, as he is trying to get shots of all grade 1 listed pubs. And it seems only right not just to snap it, but to sample its ales too. I have a pint of Osprey and Jools a half of cider. and we sit down to take in the atmosphere.
after finishing our drinks, we walk back to the car and head off to a windmill in Herne bay along to north Kent coast. It took half an hour to get there, only to find it closed for lunch. So, we head off to Hernehill, which you would think was nearby; but is 20 miles away.
In Hernehill, there is a really fine pub I wanted to sample and snap before the current landlord retired; which is in a couple of weeks.
On the way we see the church at Hernehill, and so pull over to visit that as well. It is another fine country church; and the wardens had laid on fruit juice and biscuits for the visitor. A nice touch. we photograph it and then move on the the pub.
The Three Horseshoes is a fine 17th century clapperboard building, with a couple of fine bars with walls heavy with mementoes and pictures of the pub and village over the years. Their beer is exceptionally fine, and we both have a beef sandwich to accompany the beer.
The drive back to the main road was wonderful; down narrow lanes with views over orchards and hope fields; and on the hill was an old oasthouse. So very Kentish. We shall re-visit on a sunny day to record the scene.
Back home and I listen to the football on the radio; Norwich come from behind again to win; which is all that matter, really.
During the evening we have to radio to listen to the Last Night of the Proms and play cards at the same time. Not very rock and roll, but we were happy enough.
Sunday dawned bright, and after a long lay-in, we have breakfast and then head out for a walk along the lane at the end of our road. We wanted to see how the blackberries and other autumn fruits were coming along. In the end we picked a couple of pounds of blackberries and sloes. and after an hours walk we head back for lunch and cooking.
Jools cooks the blackberries up with a large couple of cooking apples so we can have a crumble in the evening; and i prick a couple of pounds of sloes and pop them in a couple of bottles of gin.
We spend a quiet afternoon in the garden and me watching some football. Once again, not rock and roll, but we are happy enough.
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