And so we come to the 30th post of the month, which also included that now legendary 1,000th post. I can say with some certainty, we will not see another month with 30 posts for quite some time, if ever. September sees me having nearly three weeks off work, a wedding anniversary and Nan's 100th birthday. All in all another remarkable month ahead.
I was awake at half five in the morning from a combination of cramp and itchy insect bites. So I mess around on the computer until seven, and I think I may as well get my stuff together and head shopping. So I get dressed, make a list and head out just as Jools is coming down the stairs. I'll do it, don't wory says the duty hero. Tesco is empty, or as empty as it gets, and I rush round getting the stuff and I am out again heading home in half an hour. That's the way to do it.
At half nine, with a heavy drizzle falling from the sky, we head out to Dover to run some chores and for me to snap the results of the street art festival which was held last month. I drop Jools off and head to St James' Lane to park up in the shadow of Burlington House, and go round getting my shots. Back at the car I am approached by a gentleman from north Wales and he asks me if Dover is really this grotty? Sadly, it is I say. Decades of mismanagement mean in the centre it really is a shocking state, what with abandoned buildings, but also the planning decisions that enabled places like Burlington House and the Gateway Flats to be built, and how generally unfriendly the town comes over and how poorly it advertises its history. Lets hope that the regeneration of the area will make it attractive and some thought is given to what is needed.
We shall see I guess.
We head out to Folkestone to check on the demolition of the coastguard tower and also to see how the gold rush is going. You see every three years, Folkestone has an arts festival, which although is very good, does not attract that much extra visits from tourists. This year, one of the 'arts' installation is £10,000 of 24 carrot gold bars buried on the beach in the outer harbour. It has made regional and national news, and created a proper gold rush with people claiming areas of beach as whole families hunt for the £500 small bullion bars. From the harbour wall the other side, we could see hundreds of people, looking, digging and using metal detectors. Amazing what business ten grand of buried gold can create.
The coastguard tower is all but gone now, just a pile of concrete and twisted metal. All things must change. The Harbour Station is back open, and there are a couple of arts installations in it, but I do fear for the station once the festival ends in November as the line has now officially closed. In bright sunlight, and grass growing on the trackbed, it looks almost nice, but the decay and dilapidation is everywhere to be seen. Amazing to think that until 2008 the Orient Express used to come down here.
I have a plan to head over to Hythe to visit the church which lies above the town on the slope of the downs. As I know in the crypt there is a chilling display. So we head out on the coast road, heading down into Sandgate; it has been a few years since we had been down, and we are blown away at how fine the town looks, with some great new buildings facing the sea. I decide that if the weather is nice, we shall come for a walk down here on Sunday.
Hythe is busy with traffic as ever, but we make our way through it, find a parking space and set off with cameras. It seems we are both hungry now, so we make for a fine looking cafe that did a good line in local art too for coffee and a bite to eat. I have something called a 'spicy Spaniard', which is as good as its word and has my tongue zizzing.
We make our way up Great Conduit Street to the church, waiting outside we see two bridesmaids and an older gentleman in a suit with the vicar waiting. Hmmm, that'll be a wedding says Ian, as observant as ever. We watch as the bride walks up, some last minute adjustments to her dress, and the part climbs the steps and from inside we hear the organ strike up 'here comes the bride'. Jools notices that the crypt entrance is not inside the church, but along the front retaining wall of the churchyard and then under the church itself via a narrow door.
And inside there are over a thousand skull and various bones stacked in a massive pile or arranged on shelves on the wall. No one really knows why they are here, but records show them being here in the 17th century. It makes for an odd sight, but after an informative introduction from the guide, I get my shots and am happy enough.
We walk back to the car, and from there we drive up through Sandgate, up over the down and then back along the A20 towards Folkestone. I stop off at Newington as I have not been inside that church, and it is open, which is nice. So I get shots, and am happy enough. What strikes me is the large number of metal memorials inside, most dating from the beginning of the 17th century. There must have been a vibrant metal industry in the area at the time. Anyway.
From Newington, we head home with the football burbling on the radio, Man Utd draw with Burnley, which after the result on Tuesday, must make that an improvement. Once home we make coffee and I settle down to follow the Norwich game on Twitter, which City stumble to a 1-1 draw with Bournemouth. Which on the surface seems a poor result, but they are a good footballing side, and so, we have to accept that with even more new players arriving during the week, there will be plenty more games.
I cook steak for dinner, with two ribeyes I got last week, and they are glorious. We wash them down with a bottle of Cava, which really did hit the spot. And so another days passes and the month is slipping away.
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