Wednesday 13th September 2017

I wake up in the hotel room when the traffic starts up some time before six. A bus went by and I thought I was being run over. But I had slept well, but then I had drunk three halves of shandy the day before. Ahem.

I switch the radio on to try to find the previous night's football results. It is the first time I have listened to Radio 5 in the morning for maybe two years, that I can pick out where they are skipping on some facts from stories is not good for the BBC. I guess others would take the stories at face value. But then, if the BBC reports facts, like that the EU President reports how well the EU is doing, booming in fact, Brexiteers attack it for being unpatriotic! I mean, WT actual F!

I give up on Radio 5 and change to 6 Music to calm down.

From seven I could smell breakfast cooking, nothing quite like the smell of bacon and sausages cooking. I did not think I would be hungry after the late night curry, but my stomach was rumbling, so bang on half past, I go down to eat. Two crispy rashers, beans, sausage and two fried eggs, something I have not eaten for nearly two years due to an intolerance. But all went well as I ate one and then the other.

Phew, that's better. Now, what to do? One time I had visited Malmesbury, and thought it quite picturesque, so I thought I would go there. Should I wait for the school run to clear or go out anyway? Go out anyway.

I load the car, program the sat nav for the city centre, as it said, of Malmesbury, and followed the instructions through what looked like an affluent part of the edge of town, then through leafy villages, and in 2o minutes, up the hill on which Malmesbury is built.

I follow the signs to the short stay car park, a few minutes walk from the Abbey, which is why I wanted to come here. I pay to stay until eleven, then get the camera out of the back and go for a walk. The high street is full pf small shops, and at the end my eye taken by the magnificent Market Cross, and on a hill behind was the abbey.

I walk to the church door, and find it opened at nine, so I had half an hour. So despite just having had breakfast, I walked back to the cafe I had seen for a coffee, which with my wooly head was a good idea.

At nine I go back to the abbey, to find the large exterior was deceiving, as a lot of the walls that were visible outside, we partially ruins, and the inside of the church was surprisingly small, with nothing more than a solid stone wall with no window, I guess showing how the once larger building was shortened. King Alfred's son's tomb was also at the eastern end of the church, but tucked away so a thing you had to go and look for.

I photographed it good, and to be honest, I felt the need to get on the road, so walked back to the car as more shops opened and more people were about, many having dropped their children off at school. I set the sat nav for home, and away we went, down the hill to the main road and from there to Wootton Bassett and then to the motorway. With the sun shining and the radio on, and despite heavyish traffic, it was a pleasant morning, driving through Wiltshire and into Berkshire. Traffic got heavier still, passing Windsor and Eton, and just wanting to get onto the M25, where the real fun would begin.

As expected, it was stop start, so I gave up for a while and went into services for lunch and a brew., emerging just after one for the final push into Kent.

I got home at just before three, and had to think about returning the car to the docks. And then I got a call from my friend Gary. Had I forgotten about the railtour. Clearly I had, but he could pick me up from the docks, then take me to Aycliffe to snap the tour from the new bridge down onto the beach. I have an hour to wait, so have a shower and change of clothes, and feeling more human, I am ready drop the car off and wait for Gary to arrive.

It has been ages since we met, so there is a whole load of news and photography-based malarkey to catch up with, and we have twenty minutes to kill before walking down the new set of steps down the cliff to the bridge.

As the year approaches the autumn equinox, it is now dark soon after seven, and with the clouds rolling in, it was already gloomy and there was no sign of Clan Line. As we waited for half five to roll round, more people arrive, some dashing from having seen her before she reached Dover. Jools arrives too, to take me home once the train has passed, would it be on time?

In a word; no. But at twenty to six, there is smoke and there is steam as she rounds the sharp bend near to the Lord Warden Hotel, then cruises until the last carriage has rounded the bend before the regulator is opened and she puffs quicker and quicker.

And as she passes underneath the bridge, the heavens open and we get drenched. Soaked by the time we climb up the cliff to where Jools has parked. Phew.

Back home for dinner of pasta salad and aubergine, you won't be surprised to hear. I really don't need any more booze, but a glass or two of red is good too with dinner, and so Jools and I can catch up on what happened these last two days, and before you know it, it's bed time again, and work again on the morrow.