Saturday 11th March 2017

I wake up at half six, take out my earplugs and can hear a train screeching round the bend towards Blackfriars. Oh yes, I was in London.

I could spend the day here, or the morning, or go home. I think I should go home, I calculate how long it will take to get to St Pancras, and work out if I catch the half eight train, I could have breakfast first in the club, amble to Blackfriars and catch a Thameslink train north.

So, I wash the sweat and grime of the gig off me with another shower, put on a clean shirt and set about packing my few things into my rucksack. After pulling on my shoes, I check the room and leave. It is five past seven, and breakfast had just started on the ground floor. As much as you can eat for eight quid, including fruit, cereal, toast and the traditional fry up. I have fruit, then a couple of bangers, some bacon, fried slices and hash browns.

As I eat, more people come down, many dressed in rugby shorts as it was the day of the Calcutta Cup at Twickenham, England v Scotland, a game which I hoped I could watch that afternoon.

I have enough, even if there was room for more sausages, but I pass. Everyone is smiling, so I smile back and says thanks for the great service, leaving the club and turning left once down the stairs, under the railway bridge and making for the river beyond the South Bank about quarter of a mile away. I wasn't alone, a couple of jogger pass me as I walk along the end of several residential streets. Easy to forget that near to the river and Waterloo station, people live here, living in fine well built terraced houses.

Alongside the river, again I was walking alone, a few joggers all wired for sound go past. On my left, below, it was low tide, and on the muddy shaw remains of some wooden structures could be seen, some remnant when this was one of the world's greatest ports. Not now, warehouses have either been pulled down or turned into high end flats. Headquarters of shipping companies have been trned into a hotel, and people nibbled at their breakfast as the world passed by on the path.

At least few people about, I could admire the tiles in the underpass beneath Blackfriars road bridge, showing the history of the bridge.

Up the stairs to the platform to wait for a train north: new trains have just entered service, so I take the chance to snap the one waiting on platform 1, then more as the train I was waiting for glides in. It is a 12 car train, which for early on a Saturday morning is overkill for the handful of people waiting or who are already on the train. Despite the train being new, it rattles its way north through the City Thameslink station, not stopping it being a weekend, but north of there, the tracks twist and turn to Farringdon and then to St Pancras, passing the old platforms of Kings Cross too. But the new station at St Pancras is all bright and shiny, and the Southeastern platforms are just three levels up.

I take the escalators up, stop to grab a coffee from a small stall before boarding the train, having 20 minutes to wait before the train departs. Shortly before it leaves, a group of six Indian gentlemen get on and sit round me. They are excited, but talk in English so I can hear them talking about the price of mobile phones.

I try to call Jools to let her know I was on the way, asking her to pick my up from Priory station. I must have mentioned Dover, because on of the bolder Indian gentlemen asked me what was there to do in Dover. Where do I start?

In the end I say either the white cliffs (free) or the Castle (£18.50) are the choices, both would be well signposted. They were disappointed with the long tunnels the train goes through before stopping at Stratford and again the other side, but I tell them soon we will be above ground again. I point out places we pass on the train, hoping they wouldn't think of me as a freak. Past the Ford plant at Dagenham, under the river at Thurrock and into Kent.

They are like I would be in India, just so thrilled to see the countryside slip by outside our windows. The chat excitedly about what they see. Even better, after leaving Folkestone, the line gets near to the sea, and running beside it. They are so excited, I thought they might explode. As the train runs into DOver, they recognise the white cliffs and are taking pictures. I hope they had a great day!

Jools pulled up as I was looking for a taxi, it is warm out in the station forecourt, and the same back home. There is much to do, plants to put into the ground, and stuff to organise. But before then: brew.

I make coffee, so we can sit in the chairs in the shelter looking back at the house whilst Mulder shadows us, jumping on our laps getting affection. He climbs onto the roof of the shelter, rolling over in the warm sunshine, happy with his lot. He is even happier as I poke my fingers through the gap between the slats, he likes to play and chase then, purring even louder.

There are plants to put in, so we place then, agree on the location then dig holes, cover them again and then water them in. We have yet to kill them! Already there is growth on what we planted in previous weeks, even the hedge which we put in last autumn, all branches now have green leaves. Amazing.

Time for lunch, football on the radio, but the sun has broken through and it being so nice outside, I go back outside to drink more coffee with Jools.

At three, City kick off, ending up drawing 2-2 with Blackburn, despite playing 70 minutes with ten men. Still not really good enough, but things are now beyond saving, so, best not fret too much about it. At four, the egg chasing begins, and England race out of the blocks and at 13-0 up in ten minutes, and carry on from there, ending up 61-21 winners, or something. A superb display, 7 tries and a wonderful performance.

There is warmed up pasta ragu pie, which I zap in the microwave, and it is still great. I mean really good. We drink pink fizz to celebrate. Celebrate what? Well, I have been given another project, three more years work, meaning I must be doing something right. What better way to celebrate than watch the return of The Don in Gardner's World, looking for yet more ideas for our own piece of England.