Up at the crack of sparrahs, which is always the way at weekends, and Jools was feeling much better and indicated she would go to the beading class after all. The BBC said we would get some rain first thing so best doss around the house for a couple of hours before heading out at nine to go down into town so Jools could go to the library. And I could wander along the seafront taking photos.
Perfect.
We have breakfast, or rather Jools does and i have a coffee, and at the appointed hour, the rain did stop and so we headed out into the ever-brightening morning. Jools heads into town and I walk to the old hoverport, and i was rewarded with the sun breaking through, and looking back towards the Eastern Dock sand the light was just sensational. I snapped away.
Jools returned and as a very large black cloud drifted over, we went back to the car just as a hail storm broke, and we drove over to Folkestone. By this time I was hungry, and I asked if Jools was.She was. So, might as well find a place to have breakfast in then!
We head down to the harbour area and find a place to park in Tontine Street. Over the road was a cafe, and I had a fry up on my mind. I order the large breakfast, and it was just about the right size for me. Jools, still feeling a bit fragile has a bacon roll. All very nice indeed.
Jools takes the car and heads to her class, whilst I walk down to the harbour to take some shots.
As ever I knew i would visit the old Harbour Station, ripe as it is for great shots of dilapidation. I had the place to myself, and so I was happy enough with the shots I got. Although I know that the station may soon be gone if NR get there way, and then all the decay will be swept away to be replaced by a marina for yachts. If only it could be kept....
Back round the harbour and up the Old High Street, taking shots I went. Up and up to the High Street, trying to ignore the tat for sale from the market stalls. As usual all the dregs of society are on show, with various amounts of rotten teeth showing to the world. I am being hard on Folkestone, the the stalls do attract a certain demographic it has to be said.
I find the alehouse and I have ten minutes to kill before opening time. I watch people on the HIgh Street and even go into WH Smiths to check out magazines to read. Nothing piques my interest, so I head back to the alehouse to find it already had two customers inside drinking.
I settle down and order a beer, make do with reading The Mirror which is full of celebrity tat, like most red tops these days. It does maintain a left leaning at least. I have a second and then realise I have 5 minutes until it is time for me to meet Jools outside the Saga offices.
She turns up on time and we drive home, me trying to ignore the stunning light as waves crash against the Admiralty Pier as we pass by on our way into Dover.
Once home I settle down to listen to the radio, and as usual City lose away from home. This time they batter Cardiff and should have won by a country mile. We take the lead in the 5th minute and are in complete control, but fail to get a second. At the beginning of the second, City switch off for 90 seconds and manage to concede twice. After that they take charge and throw everything at Cardiff. We hit the woodwork several times, Bellers clears off the line and Marshall makes two world class saves. But nothing doing and we slump to another defeat. Next week it Citeh at he Carra, and that will only end one way.
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