Good Friday.
For the last few weeks. Heck, if I am honest since New Year, I have been looking forward to the four days off at Easter. I can honestly say, I have never looked forward to Easter, I mean not being a Christian and since growing out of chocolate eggs, quite so much as this. It was such a relief when I switched the work computer off, and have nothing but the whole weekend stretching out like a four day weekend in front of me. Thursday afternoon was a wonderfully bright and warm afternoon, I sat in the back garden after collecting the car, sipping coffee, stroking Molly who had decided to keep me company outside.
I mention this as you would like to think that the whole weekend was going to be so spring-like and sunny. Those of you who follow these posts may remember that I have pointed out that the tradition bank holiday is usually wet, windy and grim. Well, Good Friday was going to be no different. When we woke up, we looked outside, it was dark, grey and very, very damp. The cats were not going anywhere, except sleeping on the bed.
I messed around on the computer for a few hours, listening to the radio, editing photos, staring out the windows mournfully. Oh, why couldn't it be sunny and more spring-like. However, there was some photograph-related malarkey on the horizon. Thanks to the wonder of Faceache, a fried posted a link which said that the old Dover Marine Station would be open for two hours as there is a work of art on display. More on that later.
Getting to the old station was going to prove difficult, as the traffic to the ferry port was bad and getting worse. So, instead of going down Jubilee Way and along Townwall Street, instead we drove down Castle Hill, through the Market Place and then down York Street, and at the roundabout the police were keeping the flow going for those not heading to the port, anyway. So, we get across the A20, drive up to Aycleffe before taking the road to what is now the Cruise Terminal.
The station is a formidable building, and was a fine gateway into the country. But since 1994, it stopped being a station, had its tracks ripped up and the space between the platforms concreted over and became parking for people going on cruises. A sad end, but the building is being looked after, and apart from the tracks being lifted and filled in, the station is pretty much as it was back in the day. We drive up to the security hut, we are let through, and drive round the back of the station. After parking we are met by a smiling man who points the way in.
Inside there it really is a box, or building, of delights. The station is intact, the signage is intact too. There is a splendid war memorial, and the 'art;. is a papier mache life sized model of a Spitfire. Not sure whether it works, but it has meant I finally got into the station with my cameras. The quality of the stonework and brickwork is wonderful, I see wonderful details everywhere.
I am photographed out, we walk back to the car, and then have to get back home, avoiding the traffic and finding a garage as when we bought the car, it had only a splash of fuel in the tank, and now the car was telling us, we need fuel? Up over Military Hill past Western Heights then up Old Folkestone Road to the BP garage, but it was all queued up, I turned round and thought maybe we could try the new Shell garage at Whitfield, which was on route to the old folks place where we were off to anyway to look in on the chickens.
We got lucky, there was a pump free, I filled the car, and pretending I didnt see the markings on the road, drove against the flow back to the Archers pub and along to Dad's. It is much the same there, Tony smokes like an unfiltered chimney. We talk for a while, then the smoke gets too much, so we up and leave to come home for lunch of saffron buns and pints of tea.
With the rain still falling outside, there was the delight of some Good Friday football, only Football League, and with the season with just seven games to go, it was going to be a nervy afternoon. City were away at Brighton, now managed by our old manager, Chris Houghton, and the game was taking place on the first anniversary of his sacking by City. So, would the former manager curse come to haunt us? In the end, no. We play well for the most part, get a good goal in the 2nd half, but are left hanging on at the end, but cling on to win 1-0. A little ugly, but with the other results, we are 3rd on goal difference, and six points separate the top eight.
We have breaded aubergine and pasta salad for dinner, it is easy and good. I wash it down with a bottle of the Danish beer I was given this week. Lovely.
The day ends with some Monty and then a Springwatch special. Natural eye candy.
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