Somehow we sleep until half seven: the cats gave up on trying to wake us and also went back to sleep. Outside the village was shrouded in thick fog, a right pea-souper if you will. The BBC said it would clear out some by mid-morning.
I was hungry. Real hungry, the kind of hunger only one breakfast would deal with: the full English. We have not been out for breakfast in months, and there is quite some choice in Dover and Deal, but the one we really used to like was on Deal pier. Looking at their website, I see it opened at eight, so we were on the road at ten to, with our appetite in good order with us. Traffic was so light it was hardly there, and the mist of lifting, but all was dressed in subdued hues, which made it feel like November rather than mid-June.
I found a place to park near the pier and began the short walk along the prom. We passed a group of photographers, one had so much gear attached to his DSLR, I thought it a movie cakera and another guy was shooting with a Hassleblad, serious stuff.
Don't mean they know how to use the stuff though I thought.....
Breakfast was good, a small English for Jools and a medium for me. There was a large, but some of us don't need to grow any more (me that is).
Bradshaw was very dismissive of Deal, which in the fist edition was the end of the line round the coast, before the line was extended down into Dover. It was rather unsophisticated, which is odd because now is is very sophisticated and genteel.
Tracey Emmin frequents Deal, but don't let put you off, it has some rather splendid buildings, especially around Middle Street, it is also the best town in East Kent for real ale, well, along with Walmer, anyway.
Back to the car, then out through the town and Sholden and onto Sandwich, which was also quiet. Instead of heading into the town, we take the road to the Bay, and I tell an untrth, well half-truth to the security guard, saying that we were only going to the Bird Observatory not the bay. Which, as I say was a half truth, as we were going their first, but then would go to The Strand. This half-truth saved us six quid, and I had the ticket from the previous night anyway.
My objective was to check on the Marsh Helleborines, which grown in a restricted area of theirs. The building was empty, but I saw movement in the ringing shed, so go in there to ask, and am told at least three more weeks.
Happy with that, we walk back to the car and then back down to where the Lizards are growing, as Jools wanted to see them too. And I wanted to look for the group of Bees we had seen the previous year. After some searching I found the Bees, in deep long undergrowth, but otherwise fine. I snapped them, then some other wild plants that looked interesting before we decided enough was enough, and we went back home.
Just after noon the clouds clear and the sun bursts through, making the temperatures soar. It is glorious, we sit in the garden, discussing our plans of landscaping and the eventual installation of the fabled 'footballers wives' fountain. Well, it seems we have clarity on the way forward, and maybe we will cut the ground in the autumn as we have broad agreement.
I look up to the house, and see a huge bank of dark clouds heading our way. It is only a matter of time before the sun is hidden again, it does not rain, but is cool enough for us to go in. I make chorizo hash, so to be ready for the big game (more of that in a minute), and so Jools can go to visit Nan.
The football season: when did it finish? The Football League ended in the first weekend in May. Their playoffs the 25th June, the Premier League the weekend before. The FA Cup Final the 30th May. The Champions League last weekend. So, how in all that is sane, are we still having football on June 14th? European qualifiers is the answer. As the number of competing teams and teams that can qualify have both been increased, this means more games, more football, and football in June.
England were to Play Slovinia, where I have been, when it was part of Yugoslavia, and I upset some local truckers by putting on a Madonna single on the juke box in the drivers rest stop whilst on a coach trip. IMagine, being upset by Madonna: how 1980s!
Anyway, it was a good game, with England scoring three good golas, conceding one bad one and one good one, and inbetween acting like a group of people who had never met before. Not good.
All that was left was to watch the rain fall steadily down outside, the best place for it, really, and wait for Jonathon Strange and Mr Morrell to start. Still good, and just two more episodes to go.
And the weekend is over.
Next four days I will be away in Holland. See you all on Friday.
No comments:
Post a Comment