Friday night, I was home alone as Jools had to go to Heathrow to pick up her Dad who was coming back from six weeks in Australia over Christmas. And as luck would have it, or bad luck for them, the M20 was completely closed, and they had to go to the M2 to come home. Now, this sounds straightforward enough, but of course it was a Friday afternoon and the already busy M25 was at a standstill. It took them 5 hours to get back to Dover, and so me and the cats sat on the sofa and watched some TV shows about railways until she got back. And by the time she was back, and we had dinner it was time for bed as we were both shattered.
Saturday morning it was windy, and we thought of heading down to Shakespeare Beach in Dover at high tide to see if the waves would be worth photographing. There was on a few bigger than average waves crashing against the Admiralty Pier, and to park up it was going to cost us £3.80 to park the car as that was the minimum charge. I had a pound in my pocket, and we did not like the thought of getting a ticket or worse, getting clamped. So, we headed to Samphire Hoe again as that would cost us one English pound for two hours parking, and we could grab a cuppa at the kiosk to, as well as walking along the seawall to the base of the famous white cliffs.
I take many pictures, trying out some long exposures to blur the movement of the waves crashing against the cliffs. Some came out well enough, and whilst I snapped away, Jools tried to use her kite; she did OK, but the blustery wind made it tricky to get the kite up high. And after crashing on the seawall one too many times meant it ended up going to the kite eating tree in the sky. But, she has a spare one to use another time.
Back home for lunch, and time to sit on the sofa to watch Norwich play Chelsea on TV. Watching your team on TV is hardly ever a pleasant experience, and Saturday was no exception; Chelsea outplayed us for long periods and we had just one decent chance on goal, whilst Chelsea has several golden chances, most of which Fernando Torres managed to miss. So, the game ended up 0-0, and meant that we now have 29 points and still happy with that.
Sunday morning we were up nice and early, and so we headed out in the car to drive along the coast to Dungeness and maybe snap the sunrise. In the end we stopped at Dymchurch, climbed the seawall and were confronted by a fine scene. Now, I had not been to Dymchurch before, and didn’t really know what the beach was like, but was a broad pure sand beach with a few tiny, lazy waves lapping the shoreline. We waited whilst the light got stronger, and at the same time, the tide came in, wetting my feet when I stopped to take shots.
Dymchurch is a small seaside resort, but it has a small funfair, amusement arcades and a few cafes, and I thought it would be fun to snap the town with no people about. And once I got those, we headed off to Dungeness for more shots and a bit of walking on the shingle beach.
Dungeness is an odd place; as well as a huge variety of cabins and shacks that have been built on the shingle, and a narrow gauge railway that cuts through the village, all of it is overshadowed by not one but two nuclear reactors. And all along the water edge, and about a 100 yards inland, all fishermen’s gear lay amongst the dunes; boats, nets, winches and lots of other mechanical equipment. It is all photogenic in a 28 days later kind of way. So I wander around the boats and gear snapping away, working my way up to the railway station where I was to meet Jools with the car.
The fishing boats have to be dragged up onto the beach, as there is no harbour, but due to the rich fishing to be had just offshore, there are dozens of boats that fish from here.
Once I had flattened the battery on both my cameras, we got back in the car and headed back, looking for a place for breakfast; one of the places in Dymchurch was now open, and so we went in to have a small breakfast and a cuppa before heading back home. And back onto the sofa for more football; Man City vs Spurs and Arsenal vs Man Utd; two good games and two home wins.
And then the last of the Christmas steak made for a very fine dinner, along with sautéed potatoes cooked in our spanking new fryer. How much easier that was than using a frying pan, and the spuds were pretty darn good too.
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