Saturday 3rd September 2016

After Friday's blast of autumn, summer returned on Saturday, with the pleasant thought that would could do whatever we wanted. Although in truth the same is said of almost every weekend unless I divert us to either the world of orchids or Kentish churches, or some other event or thing I feel is important. So, with the orchid season in it's death throws and with the heritage weekend and then Open House coming up, there would be plenty to do in the not to distant future.

Someone did have to go to Tesco for supplies; and in the end we both did, which wasn't so bad. We rushed round before the crowds arrived, and now with the enforced delay until the scanners were switched on, it does mean that the bakery had put out all their wares, so there was a fine selection of fresh bread to chose from.

Back home and once the shopping put away, I was told it was a bacon morning, and as it happened with had a dozen rashers in the fridge. Soon the house was smelling of lovely grilling smoked pork. I make a fresh brew and breakfast is perfect, if unhealthy.

Saturday was also the day of the bed delivery: we have had a futon/z bed thing that I bought when I moved into the old Chez Jelltex, aka "The Outside of the Asylum" or was until someone stole the name plate I had made. Anyway, Jools thought that the old bed had come to the end of its life, but may yet be spared as a place to sit in our new garden cabin when the garden is landscaped. Oh yes, never a dull moment here. Anyway, we had to remove the old bed, to make room for the new. And then find someone to store it before it can be put in its new place once the garden is done.

After some heaving, sweating and sweating, we disassembled it and then carried each bit to the bathroom for the time being. And where the bed had been there was a whole load of dust. Now, I'm not worried too much about dust, but with my allergies so sensitive at this time of the year, it was decided I should vacate the house whilst Jools vacuumed: and as I had just seen there was a bus rally in Walmer, just down the road, I didn't take much persuasion to leave.

It was still fairly quiet on the Deal road, so once in Walmer and near the Strand I find a place to park on a side street, gram my gear and wander off to see what was going one.

What was going on was a bus rally: marking the centenary of the formation of the local bus company, which, like so much good things, no longer exists. But many of their buses do.

Several had already arrived, so with crowds thin, I was able to get some good early shots with few people in them. And it was a glorious day, I mean wall to wall sunshine with no breeze, and was already really quite warm.

What else to tell? Well, men of a certain age with their wives or partners in tow. It is harmless, and I suppose I am one of them now too. I snap the double deckers, the single deckers and then look at the memorabilia stalls. No idea what for, but it seemed to be the proper thing to do.

Before leaving I give the bus society a couple of quid and walk back to the car so to be home when the bed arrives.

Just after lunch the bed arrives, and the bits and pieces and mattress spook Mulder greatly, and he runs away though the garden and is gone. And in foct once he is back, is easily spooked the rest of the day, so I told him ghost stories.

Like everything in the modern world, the bed comes in kit form, but unlike a bed from Ikea which might be called Erik or NITTSTÅL, it is just called bed. So, yours truely thought there was nothing wrong with the old bed and therefore is a right grump and makes his grumpiness obvious until even I am embarrassed about me. So, we unpack everything, count all the parts and it all seems to be there. And there are instructions, which while short on words, the illustrations seem simple enough, so we get down to it.

And in about an hour we have a bed. And it looks like a bed and have approx zero left over pieces.

Now that calls for a beer.

And woe is me, there is no football on the wireless, because there is no football. Well there is international football, but not until Sunday, so somehow I manage to get through the afternoon doing what I usually do, editing shots, writing blogs and listening to music. I know how to roll.

Autumn returns in the evening, as cloud thickens and then thicken and rain falls harder and harder. I'm not complaining, our water barrels are empty, so we need it. I sit in the dark on the sofa, and a fox with a lustrous busy brush with a white tip comes into the front garden to clear up the bird seed. It is flighty, but alert and in supreme condition. I watch it for 5 monutes, then with the internet so slow we can't even stream radio, we call it a night.