So, I got home at about half nine last night. Jools had taped (or whatever the modern name for setting the Skybox to record is) the England game, so I watched the game on fast forward, all 90 minutes plus injury time in less than an hour. They seemed to play quite well, but made some basic mistakes; so some things will not change. Anyway, it did mean heading to bed at half eleven, and then feeling like crap in the morning.
I headed off to the barbers at nine, as my barnet is like an untamed wilderness, and has a mind to do whatever it pleases. Although, now that we are in September, the need to have it so short is not there, it seems 15 years of life with the Brylcream Boys means I seem to like it short and neat. Ish.
A few weeks back, we were driving down into Dover, and stuck in traffic near the girl’s grammar school, I looked right to the public park near the stonemason’s, and I saw that there was a church there. So, having had my haircut, I head to Ss. Peter and Paul in Charlton to investigate and take some shots. As is expected early on a Saturday morning, it was locked, but is a grand Victorian pile, built partly on the rubble of the Saxon church that used to stand nearby. Yes, the if the Victorians thought something needed to be built, it got built no matter what had to go to make it happen.
After snapping it from all angles, I headed to Buckland to snap St Mary’s, which is hidden behind what used to be the paper mill. There are no signs from London Road pointing that the church is there, but as we used to live in the area, I thought it about time I headed there and snapped it to add to my growing list of Kentish churches. Once again, it was locked, but even still, it is a fine place, with a spacious and full churchyard, which shows it was once a parish that served a working parish.
Further along London Road is the remains of Buckland Paper Mill, now bit by bit being demolished and being rebuilt as flats, so I snapped the old and new before heading back home for more coffee and another breakfast.
I listened to various radio shows via the internet. Later in the day, we heard the sound of heavy machinery, and we realised that our friendly neighbourhood farmer was in the process of collecting the bales of straw that so attractively decorate the countryside. We went to the field at the end of the road, walked in and slowly made our way down the dip and up the other side heading towards Westcliffe, taking more and more shots as we went. And then three tractors towing trailers entered the field, along with a fork lift, and the flork lift began loading the bales on the trailers. Snap, snap, snap went the shutters on our cameras.
I switched to the wide angle, and was treated to a glorious sight in the late afternoon sunshine, as the field glowed golden and the blue sky went ever darker the nearer the top of the shot I looked. More snapping.
And that was it really; we walked back home, I made dinner. Apparently not very memorable, as I can’t remember what it was. And so being so rock and roll, we headed to bed at nine as it was already dark.
Sunday.
During the previous week, I received a mail telling me where the last orchid of the year can be found. So, after coffee we headed and following the sat nav headed up the A2 to Faversham. Queensdown is a hillside reserve beside the M2, and is several acres. And for reasons I will elaborate on we had to be away by half nine to head to Denton. Anyway, we walked all the way down and back up the reserve, and no tiny spirally orchids did we see. We did see many butterflies including a tatty Adonis. But at half nine we were back at the car and heading back towards Dover.
Thankfully, Colin who works with Jools, had found someone who wanted a cat. And we had a cat we needed to find a home for. After three weeks in the cat prison in the garden, we put him in the cattery for a week. So, we went to Denton to collect him so at half eleven when Colin and his friend came we could hand Bowie over. Bowie was very noisy in the car, but once home settled down very well, so Jools sat with him for an hour whilst we waited. At half eleven, the guy pulled up, we introduced him to Bowie, he put Bowie in a box, and that was it. Bowie was on his way to his new home in Walmer.
It was a relief for us both, but for Jools most of all, who hated to see Bowie caged for so long, and he clearly hated it. So, we now had our three-cat house back, and Molly having returned almost to her old routine, all we have to do now is to convince Scully there is nothing to be scared of. We sat in the garden with the doors open, no cage in the garden, and Molly circled us being generally Molly.
Life is back to normal….
In the afternoon we headed up to temple Ewell Down to see if there were more butterflies about, but the wind had got up, and certainly under the A2 the wind whistled and so any butterflies that would have been about would have been roosting, clinging to grass somewhere. But it was fine to be out walking anyway.
Back home for coffee, and I baked another batch of short cakes so once we had drunk the coffee it was time to make another to go with the fresh and still hot short cake. We sat outside with Molly in attendance, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine again.
Once the sun set we went back outside to see the stars come out, but there was a chill in the air, and not even a bracing wee dram could take the chill off, so we went back inside. And so, as the daylight faded, another weekend came to an end.
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