Saturday 3rd January 2015

Friday.

So, this was the day we planned to head to the bright lights of London. The sun was out, what could go wrong? We had breakfast, then Jools was to take the car to the garage to have some tests as to see why the engine warning light had come on. I said I would tidy up whilst she was out, make sure the camera battery was charged. Jools came back in, the car wouldn't start. I went out to try, but I didn't really expect it to make any difference. It didn't, the starter whined, all sorts of warning lights came on, warnings bleeped.

I tried again, with the same result.

We called the AA.

We went inside to wait.

In an hour, the AA came, we explained the problem. He nodded his head, took the keys, turned the key.



The engine spluttered. Whined. And started. Roar! went the engine. I mean, really, isn't that always the way? He thought the engine was flooded, probably from me starting the engine and switching it off the day before. Oh well. The AA man followed Jools to the garage, and then brought her back, and then we waited for news on what was wrong.



We finished off the sausage rolls I made the day before, we drank tea, we listened to music. The phone went at just gone two: we might need a new catalytic converter. No, two of them, as there are two in the engine, and one we paid three hundred quid for a couple of years back, that one would have to be changed too. However, he could try something else. Something that involved putting 'gunk' into the petrol tank, this might work for a while. But after that, it could cost upto a grand for the two cats and then the labour.



Jools' Dad came to pick her up to take her to the garage, I grabbed my camera, put on my stomping boots and went for a walk.



It was half two by the time I made my way along the street, out onto the track leading across the fields. The shadows were long, the colours everywhere were golden. It was wonderful, my allergies that were easing with all the fresh air about. Sadly, at the copse, the trailer was being made ready for the piglets final journey, they know nothing about what horrors is to come, but then that is where bacon comes from.



Down the dip, up the other side. Now, do I turn for home or press on to the cliffs in the hope of seeing the sunset along the coast. Hmmm, I thought about it, the cliffs won out, as the thought of all those golden colours on the sheer cliff faces. Yes, and the longest of long shadows would be stretching across the high fields up on the downs. There wasn't a breath of wind, away to the west the sun was just over the horizon, flocks of sheep covered the fields stretching away towards Kingsdown a three-quarter full moon could be seen above the French coast, and on the sea, ships were still at shelter.



At the cliffs, they were in deep shadow, once again it was low tide, but this time the waves were just lapping at the rocks at the foot of them. France could just be seen on the horizon, and ferries were still steaming between here and there. I walked down to the Leas, getting there just as the sun reached the top of the cliffs, and the light failed. I snapped away, waiting for one of the ferries to appear beside the cliffs. And it was gone.



Dusk was falling, and I realise I now had to get home. I shivered, zipped up my jacket and walked back up to the monument, then across the fields and back into St Maggies. Darkness was falling, I could just see enough by the light of the moon along the footpaths before I arrived at the Droveway, walking past the Red Lion and down the hill to home.

Phew, a long walk, but worth it.

We make breaded aubergine for dinner, which was fantastic, washed down by a pint of Guinness porter. Lovely.

The days are slipping by, and now just the weekend to go.

We end the day watching a TOTP retrospective from 1980. Lots of good memories, and shock that it was some 35 years ago. I was 15.