Monday 12th October 2015

Sunday

Seeing that we could lay in bedu until whatever darn time we liked, I was laying awake at half five waiting for the dawn to appear. I guess I went back to dozing until the heating switched on at seven.

We got up and after some general faffing about, I made more bacon butties before it was tome to drop Jools off at Crabble Corn Mill. She and a colleague had a table at an event where bot of them were testing the water with their respective crafty output.

It seemed it was going to be a fine day so Jools grabbed a table outside and we unloaded her stuff. The mill is on a narrow road, so once disgorged of stuff, I had to dash off and leave her, giving me something like seven hours to myself. I had decided, even though I knew it would be hard on my back, to rake the lawn, as Monty the Don said this was a weekend task we could be getting on with.

Back home I got the rake out, looked at our lawn, and thought it might take half an hour, knowing this was wildly optimistic after doing it last year. 15 minutes later, I had done a strip and a half across the garden, I thought I needed a breather and a tea. The rest took longer then the work already done, but hey.

And so it went on, work, rest, work, rest and so on until by one there was one patch at the bottom of the garden to do.

Anyway, something much more important to do: see the final fly past in the county of the last of the so-called V-bombers, the Vulcan. A group of volunteers have kept this in the air for the past few years, but even their best efforts will not see it fly beyong a few eek's time, so it went on a farewell tour over the weekend, the north on Saturday, and the south on Sunday. And it was due to fly over Dover.

Initially, I decided to go to the cliffs, but after having pointed out to me online that the route was someway inland, by maybe only a mile, but the cliffs might not be the best place. So, scouring the route and map, I decided on a hill to the east of Martin, loaded up my camera and drive down the hill, past the station, along a bit before stopping at the corner of a field looking east towards Manston where the big bird would be turning towards us.

I checked my settings, all seemed fine, but after snapping a buzzard I noticed the battery light was flashing! ARGH! I walk back to the car to pick up the other camera body, walking back I check my watch, I thought I had ten minutes: I look up and there, coming towards me was the Vulcan.

Without pausing, I raise the camera, with lens set to 400mm (or 650mm in EFS mode) and could not find the plane in the viewfinder. I checked: it was still there. I looked through the viewfinder again, and the autofocus could find nothing. I was panicking now, the engines were screaming as it swooped towards me, and with the plane banking slightly above me, I find it and rattle off a few shots, all too late and not the head on shots I wanted; those were lost.

I grabbed a few as it banked towards Dover Castle, getting paler and more distant in the haze of the warm afternoon. And that was it.

I drove to collect Jools, a bit despondent to be honest. She had sold one bracelet, but she had achieved what she set out to do; attend an event and see what is salable. Te car loaded we drive back home, then I finished the garden, my back grumbling, but then I had to finish.

Late on a Sunday afternoon, the light fading, what warmth there was in the day was fading fast, and it was certainly feeling like autumn now. So, what better way to feel better than to have a proper roast dinner? No better I can think of.

Roast beef, Yorkshire Puddings, roast potatoes and loads of veg, all smothered in beef gravy. Perfect.

That takes until seven. The the tidying up, next to stand on a street in downtown Dover with a camera.

And why, I hear you ask, am I going to stand on a darkened street in Dover. With a camera? Well, there was a train involved, you will not be surprised to hear. It was the return leg of the tour we saw Friday, but this time, in dark, heading up the hill towards Deal, and I had always wanted to snap a steam tour over the bridge in Crabble. Only trouble was that the trees growing on the embankment have neary obscured the view, giving on a few metres of clear view.

At eight I leave the car to stand on the street, with camera, not looking at all suspicious. Oh no. Because of the way the line goes round the valley whilst climbing, I could hear the locomotion 5 minutes before she arrived, puffing away loudly and echoing off all the buildings.

It was going to be hot and miss if there would be traffic coming along the road to throw out the lightmeter, but too late now just hope it works.

And it did, just about. An oncoming motorcycle did skew the autofocus, but it is good enough for me, and so with the shot in the bag, I walk back to the car and drive home, Jools still sitting in the passenger seat doing Sudoku. And, that was your weekend.