Good evening and welcome to the sick house. Rather like the episode of The Young Ones, also called Sick, someone has turned on the sneezing and the not tap, and I am suffering. I got three hours sleep last night, and feel like crap. Urgh.
I was awake just before three, and further sleep would not come, so I got up and did some computering, some reading and tea drinking. Dawn was a long time timing. I fed the cats, they then left me to my sniffling. I finished the Danny Baker book. Where did it all go right, Danny? Well, almost all the time it seems. And although I have not had a multi-media career which helped me spunk millions in holidays and the such, I do feel that despite never having had a plan in life, here I am, travelling, if not the globe, then the UK - Denmark axis, clocking up the air miles, in tiny amounts, and testing beers as a freelancer.
I have no idea, really, how I came to be here, but I am and so I had better make the best of it.
After breakfast, we decided to go for a walk near where Jools works, as I had not seen that part of HYthe before, and the promise was of tabernacles, fishing boats and canals. And I saw them all. We parked near the factory, and walked along the esplanade a bit, so I could take in the conversion of a Martello tower which was now a fine looking house, but one suspects the owners could not get away with that kind of thing now. Two further towers could be seen a little way along the coast in the Army Firing Range, and they looked untouched. Apart, one suspects, from the odd stray round or two. More fishing boats were laid up on the beach, we found the much-fabled smoke house which should keep us in smoked haddock as and when we need it.
We drove back through Saltwood, where I had seen a fine looking village hall to photograph. That done we drove back through narrow wooded lanes, all golden in the weak sunshine showing through a break in the cloud. We drove home down the Elham Valley, through Folkestone and home for the last of the first Christmas cake and a strong coffee.
At two we drove back into Dover for Jools' Autie's 70th birthday, or something. It was someone's birthday, the wife of the (late) brother of my father-in-law, that makes me confused just thinking about it. Now, being the only child of two only children, family get-togethers usually took place whenever the six of us ate on a Sunday, Christmas, Easter or whenever there was a birthday. Marilyn had hired a huge hall, and it was full with about 200, not all related, but most of them. It was all a bit much, really, and after an hour we played the we have to get back to the car as the ticket is about to run out line.
We came home, had more coffee, and I listened to the Wales (football) game on the radio, and in due course cooked dinner; a warmed through roast beef and new steamed veg dinner, which whilst not as good as the one on Thursday, took a lot less time than to cook from fresh.
We washed that down with a bottle of the 2011 Elderberry wine we made some 38 months ago, to find it had turned into brandy, or some other fortified wine, and blew our socks off. One glass was enough!
All that was left was to pack for the morning commute to Denmark, shave and write this. Job done, see you all on Thursday.
Probably.
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