Wednesday 24th August 2016

And it is the hottest day since yesterday!

Yes, Wednesday was even hotter than Tuesday, it was going to be something like 35 degrees, and I was going to be stuck in a car driving to Calais and home. But before then I had to endure a morning's work in the portacabin oven.

We check out, have breakfast, then drive back to the office, along streets that were remarkably free from traffic. But thinking about it now, Belgium is off on it's holidays for the entire month, so maybe its normally busier? Who know As I will be working here for the next eight months, I guess I will find out.

There are mails to reply to, calls to make, and soon enough the morning passes. I get a mail from Eurotunnel explaining that due to enhanced border checks I might be delayed. So, I say my goodbyes at half eleven for the drive down the coast to Calais.

I switch off the air con, open all the windows and enjoy the feeling of the wind in my hair. Across the fields to the motirway once I had driven through the strip mall, through the roadworks then turning onto the motorway, cruising along at about 100 kmh, with most other traffic hammering past at all speeds. I have time, so I cruise along. On either side, the fields have been harvested, but they still have the golden hue of summer, eben as the stubble dries out.

At the terminal, there are queues, and there is no other choice but to deal with it. We inch through British immigration, waved through French Immigration and then everyone is stopped at sustoms with all documentation checked. By the time I'm through, I can board the next train, so drive past the terminal building, and am in one of the long queues to get on a train. The temperature dial in the car read 33 degrees, and was climbing.

After half an hour, we are given the green light, and so follow the signs over the tracks and down the ramp and finally onto the train. The internal doors close, and soon afterwards, the train slips out.

I am already out of the car, standing by the air blowers on the side of the carriage, trying to get some additional cooling effect from the moving air. In the car behind me, a woman of a similar age to me, instead of getting out of the car, sits in the front seat fanning herself with a newspaper.

We arrive in Folkestone, the train stops and the doors open. We drive out, round the flyover and onto the main road which leads onto the motorway. But I turn off, and am soon on familiar paths as this is the road Jools takes to work each morning. I take the A20 to the top of Old Folkestone Road before turning off and making my way down into Dover, past the station, then back up the other side along Castle Hill before turning along Reach Road, taking the narrow road up the cliffs then along to St Margaret's.

One thing about living here, is that the drive from either the Tunnel or port is short, meaning that I am soon home. It feels good not to have to travel too far I have to say.

It is roastingly hot, I know that's not a word, but it is now. France was clear just 22 miles away, but I had only sights for Chez Jelltex. The final run through the village, down Station Road to home. There is a black and white cat waiting. Waiting and meowing, loudly.

I unpack the car, feed Scully and have a pint of squash. It is too hot to sit in the back garden, so I lay in the semi-darkness in the living room. Molly brings me a mouse, as I must look a little pasty.

The afternoon fades, although it doesn't seem to get any cooler. The cats come in one by one meowing loudly, I imagine complaining about how hot the weather is. I feed them all, and they seem happy enough.

Jools comes home, we have dinner, then sit out back in the evening shade as its the coolest place we can fine. Molly is asleep on the patio and Scully in the bird house. he sun sets, stars come out as do bats, that wheel and dive in pursuit of insects.