Friday 21st October 2016

On my last morning in Oostene, the clouds did clear and the sun did shine, or would have done if dawn had arrived when I got up. As it was, dawn was still an hour away, even if I told myself I could lay in bed a while, my brain was already moving up the gears. So I pack, get dressed and go down for breakfast before checking out.

THere as the struggle to get the car out of the car park, all tine spaces, tight turns and ramps that also turned so tight I had to reverse halfway down to make the turn; and this was with an Astra, with the Passat estate I had last time would have been an adventure to say the least!

Traffic was light, although at roundabouts it was stiff a free for all, with people turning right staying in the left hand lane, not indicating and just driving round. I avoid one such van and make it to the docks safely, and then through the low security barriers to the office. I say low security as they are motion operated, and there are no checks carried out, so anyone can just drive in.

And then there is work; three hours of chaos until I have to leave. I have to arrange a meeting at short notice, but rattle through that, so I can leave at ten to eleven. I follow the road signs to the motorway, and find that in doing so I avoid the strip malls and traffic jams, reaching the motorway in ten minutes, and the French border in half an hour and Calais in just over an hour. I get some beer and wine before driving to the tunnel, check in and join the queues to get through immigration, which there always seem to be on this side.

I am through in ten minutes and allowed to bypass the waiting at the terminal right to the waiting area just before boarding. Another ten minute wait, and just as we begin to get restless, the light goes greena and we are allowed to board. It is all so painless and efficient.

As ever.

There is the direction to park as close to the car in front as possible, carriage doors are closed, there is the safety announcement, and the pull away. I manage to finish WSC on the way over. I realise I am so shattered; mostly my fault for watching football until nearly eleven most nights, and then the early starts. I check work mails, not much happeneing, so I think the world can cope with me taking the afternoon off. I switch the phone off just as the line of cars starts to move, and I have the simple drive to the M20, then ten minutes to Dover and finally up Jubilee Way to home. Indoors at five past twelve.

I put the radio on, make a brew and have the sole remaining short cake left over from the weekend. And so the weekend begins.

For a change this weekend, we have one of my Flickr contacts staying with us; Steve is from Suffolk, but supports Braintree Town from Essex, and they are playing Dover on Saturday. He mentioned he was coming down, so we said he should stay with us instead of a guest house.

Anyway, he arrives at half three when Jools comes back with the weekly shopping, meaning we are all done for the weekend.

I make chorizo hash for dinner, which Steve and I wash down with strong Belgian beer, obviously. For the evening, we thought a trip to The Carpenter's Arms in Coldred would be good. If you can't remember, its the place that has not seen a decorator or any improvement since the 50s, but they provide a warm welcome and serve good beer.

We both have two pints of different ruby ale, both good, but the one from the barrel was fine, if flat. And that it that, nearly ten in the evening, full of hash and beer. Best go home to bed.