Mulder was up and about at just after five telling us that he really, really should be fed by now. I sighed and tried to ignore him, but being a weekend and there being so much to do, so much beer to drink, so many pictures to take, I got up before six to feed them cats and make a cup of coffee.
Hmmm, nothing quite like the feeling on a Saturday when the day is young enough still be exciting. I thought about it, maybe the cliffs, the bay and then back to the festival for a final slurp! All we had to do is to wait for Mr Sleepy-head, aka Steffen, to wake up.
He did surface, contacting me via Facebook, as is the modern way, to enquire about the availability of coffee and/or breakfast. Once we were all fed, we decided to head out, first of all to the cliffs at the Dover Patrol, so we could stand in awe at the edge of the cliffs looking down. And maybe look over to La Belle France.
We parked up, and an absolute gale was blowing. I knew I should have put another layer on! So, we walk over to the cliff edge. Steffen asked if I could take a shot of him standing on the cliff edge, and who am I to refuse? But, it was cold. I mean really, really cold. So, better head down to the bay where it would be warmer, maybe not warmer but out of the wind.
The waves were, whilst not crashing onto the beach, was still pretty impressive. However, most of the stones from the beach had been dumped onto the prom and the car park, leaving a sandy beach behind. Ian Flemming’s old house had also suffered some storm damage, with one window looking like it had been knocked in by the sea.
Wowzer.
Steffen decided he wanted to buy a warm hat. Quite why they don’t sell such things in Denmark is anyone’s guess. So began a trek to look for said hat: two tackle and seas fishing shops on Snargate Street, and then into Folkestone as I was sure the market would have something that would do. I was by now hungry, and after stopping of a Googies last week, I realised I really liked the sound of their Tex-Mex burger, and it took very little persuasion of Jools and Steffen that we should go in.
I can report the burger was OK, the fries to, but their own Boston Beans were wonderful, and worth going for just those. Anyway, all fed up we head to the main street to find the stalls being packed away! We walked up the street hoping to find an outdoor type shop or an Army surplus shop, but with no luck. So, we decided to head back to Dover where Jools could drop us back at the beer festival where Steffen and I could soak up some of the dregs.
And dregs is what we found; maybe less than 20 barrels were still going, so we had a couple of pints before we decided to end the afternoon back in The Rack of Ale for a friendly beer or two. And friendly it was, and packed. There was just enough room for us to get in and order a pint. It was all very nice. We had plenty to talk about as Liverpool had just stuffed Arsenal 5-1, and we leading 4-0 after 20 minutes.
Jools came to collect us at four, and so then I had the chance to see how City were doing against Citeh. I expected the worse, but in fact Norwich were still drawing 0-0, and that is how it stayed. In fact Norwich coming close in the last minute to snatching all the points. So, and unexpected point for us, but another game without scoring too.
That night we headed back out, this time to The Carpenter’s Arms at Coldred, as I thought Steffen might like a taste of an authentic county pub. We were remembered from last week, and the beer was just as good. The wind was howling outside, making it feel very cold indeed, even with two coal fires going. We drank up then headed down the hill into Lydden to the Bell for dinner.
They managed to squeeze us in, and the food was more like the nouvelle stuff, small portions, but tasty enough, and we were not that hungry. So as the rain hammered down outside we tucked into roast lamb, which was very good indeed.
Much to our delight, there was a badger munching away in the front garden, and I took a shot of it with my new camera, which turned out pretty darn well. Seems like it takes four shots in night mode and then combines the sharpest parts to produce one very good image.
Clever camera….
Sunday.
All things must come to an end, and so Steffen had to head home. And we had already decided that we would take him back to Stansted by car. Which was just as well really as the strong winds that were still blowing meant that there seemed to be no trains running.
Once he was packed, we climbed in the car and headed up the M20 to Dartford, along the M25 and then up the M11 to the airport. Not knowing whether the bridge would be open, we left plenty of time, and so got there with two and a half hours to spare, but better late than never I suppose.
We dropped him off and headed back south, managing to get back across the Thames before ten, thus missing all the shopping traffic to Lakeside and Bluewater. We stop off at the services at Maidstone for a coffee ,and as it turned out, brunch. That’s better.
On the way back home we call in at Alkham to see the flooding caused by the once-again flowing Drellingore winterbourne. It is already much worse than last year, with houses beside the flowing water already flooded. The flow is so large it has overflowed the culvert beside the main road, and already several holes have opened up meaning traffic lights have had to be installed. And down towards the cricket ground water bubbles up through the tarmac. It felt a little wrong snapping such sights, so we went back to the car and then home.
Once back home to tidy up some, and then decided to slob out a bit. I mean we had some stuff to do, but after much running around drinking beer, it seemed right just to relax, drink the occasional coffee. I even did a session on the cross-trainer, which was just right. Although I am sure I sweating out pure porter from every pore.
The day faded to dark, and so the weekend faded to dark too….
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