Saturday 20th August 2011

First of all, Molly news.

She is fine, the wound has nearly healed and she has brought us:

a wren (dead)

A vole (alive)

A mouse (alive at first, then dead)

A liver from animal unknown

Various bird parts

She is doing fine, full of the joys of life, just like the last three weeks never happened.

Anyway, cats apart, life is still good. Or, life, cats included, is still good.



Friday ticked round slowly, until half three when i had to have a conference with my boss. That took 50 minutes, and so the weekend began late, 20 minutes late. So, into the teatime traffic and head back to Dover and our house on the cliffs. Jools has next week off and so had to work late to clear her desk, and so she did not leave until gone six. So, it was late when we sat down to dinner listening to John Cooper Clarke on Radio 4; God I love the BBC.

So, Saturday, we head out in the car just gone eight to find Kit's Coty; a neolithic burial mound, although the mound has gone, there are some bloody large stones left.
So, we park at the bottom of the hill, and since Jools had studied some maps we did find the path up the hill through the trees.



And at the top of the hill was Kit's Coty. It was built in the 5th century after a battle on the plain below. It is a stunning location; I snapped it and snapped it good.

We then drove to Tonge to the home brew shop to get some stuff in order to make some elderberry wine. We buy a fermentation bucket, yeast, corks, a corker and all the other stuff we needed.
And back along the old A2 as we headed towards Sheppy. Past the huge car boot 'fair' and then turn down the narrow bumpy track over the marshes towards Harty. We park up and go for a walk to hunt for butterlies; we see a few and some dragonflies, some I manage to snap, some I don't.



By now it's half twelve and well past opening time; so we head to the Ferry Inn and order ploughmans and drinks and then sit outside as the rest of Kent seems to be arriving for a wedding. Our meals arrive, and so we chomp away whist people watching; dogs got lost in hedges, and guests for the wedding tottered past on stupidly high heels and others in ill-fitting suits.

Time then to head home, whilst listening to the Arse getting their butts kicked by Liverpool. Once home Jools heads out to the garden and after looking at my shots, I start to make another Christmas cake.

and then Ipswich lose 7-1 on TV.