Sit down and make yourself comfortable and I'll begin....
Thursday evening, after work, we headed down to St Margaret's Bay to the Coastguard for dinner. We had a reserved table, we ordered a drinks and a bottle of vino to go with our meal of fish and chips followed by a cheeseboard and a large malt for me.
As we left, the sun was setting and the lights in France could just be seen.
And so to Friday. I was awake early for reasons I can't put my finger on, and ended up heading into work before six in the morning and was at my desk before half past.
And at half two, I turned the laptop off and wrapped up for the weekend. And even better, its a holiday weekend, so three days off.
Up at the crack of dawn, literally as the sun rises at about six, and we had to be out of the house and on our way to the railway station before quarter past so to catch the train to London. Again.
We had time to park the car, get our tickets and by then the train had pulled in; so we climb the bridge onto the bay platform and board the high speed train. Right in time we head out; alongside the Channel until we're through Folkestone, up alongside the M20 to Maidstone, then through the north downs tunnel, over the Medway to Ebbsfleet, under the Thames, through the Essex and then into the tunnel to Stratford. all in 57 minutes from Dover.
We get out and walk to the shuttle bus; we were treated to fine views of the Olympic Village, which looks nearly complete, of well on the way to be. On our way to the DLR station, we grab a coffee and a lamb samosa from a stall in the foot tunnel at the station.
The train was empty, and so we grab front seats of the train, and as its driverless, we get a fine view as we had towards Canary Wharf.
We get off and head down the escalators into the foyer below; I risk taking a shot whilst security guards mill round. I got away with it. We go outside and I snap away more freely, although some of my friends had been stopped here before. Once again I had no problem. It was a fine morning, quite cloudy, but ok for photography. We walk from dock to dock, each now surrounded by towers of glass and steel, and in-between places to cater for the rich bankers; restaurants with £500 bottles of wine and the such. Anyway, all was closed, as all finance places are at weekends. And it was just us and the fishermen dangling worms into the water that had full run of the place.
after a while we head back to Canary Wharf and head to the riverside to catch a clipper to the city centre. Clippers are just about the quickest way to get to the main locations along the river; jet powered boats that whisked us fro docklands to London Bridge in ten minutes. Apart from the passing cityscape on both sides we had a group of Amish tourists to watch and wonder about their heiratical structure as some women had different coloured scarves on and dresses, whilst the men seemed to be able to wear almost normal clothes.
We walk along the riverside and snap The Shard, soon to London's tallest building, now looking almost complete, at least from the outside, and now beside it, another block, the Place is beginning to grow upwards.
We have brunch at a place beside The Clink, and at which point Jools heads her way to beadshops in soho and I head to Blackfiars to snap the new station and bridge being built before heading to St Pancras to meet up with a friend as we were going to Chelsea to see the game vs Norwich in the afternoon.
I had not been watching the clock, and realised I was going to be late as I looked for a tube station, so I flag down a cab in Fleet Street and arrive at the station just in time. Or so I thought. I walk down to the Betjeman Arms, a new pub in the corner of the station. I fight my way through the Rugby League supporters round the bar and get a pint and take up a seat on the station where I can see the arrivals and hopefully flag my friend Mark down.
I wait. I drink my pint. I buy another pint. I drink the second pint. Outside it rains and clears the streets. Twenty five past twelve, I decide its time for me to head to Chelsea and maybe bump into Mark there.
Once near the ground, I find an Irish bar where there was a good chance of getting served, I order a pint of Caffreys and phone my City supporting friends to find where they are. we swap news and hopes for the afternoon. A guy and his son overhear my conversation and does not mind I support City, and we talk and swap news on our teams; all good stuff really.
I walk to the ground, taking shots of the crowd as I go. I get into the ground, snap the stadium and go back to the concourse and grab a smoothie(!) and then another pint. I watch the end of the Villa?Wolves game on TV; a 0-0 draw! So, with about half an hour before kick off i go up to my seat, take some shots of the players warming up, and then settle down to take in the atmosphere.
The game, was not a classic, but City play well enough; well enough to maybe have snuck a win; but with ten minutes to go, our keeper is sent off, Frank scores the penalty and we slip to a 3-1 defeat. Nothing to be ashamed of, and lots of positives.
And then outside at the full time whistle, for the crush onto the tube to get back to St Pancras to get the train back home. Jools was waiting, which was just as well as the clouds had burst and sent down a real rain that had washed all sorts from the streets, just like Travis said it would.
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