Friday 22nd December 2017

Our first day off together of the break, and we were to begin it by taking Molly to the vet. You will have seen from my previous post how that went. In the end much better that we know for sure rather than guessing the worse. We came home for breakfast of more coffee and buttered rolls with Christingle marmalade; rather a triumph if I say so myself.

A couple of weeks ago, I put a disposable camera in for processing. I found it at Mum's, and so with over 20 shots yet to be exposed, I used it for a few days to use it up. Anyway, we needed to go to Folkestone to the camera shop to pick up the results.

With it being holiday season, we go through the Alkham Valley to get to Folkestone. All towns are full this year, and with Folkestone's dedicated parking officials, you have to be careful where you do park, meaning parking spaces are of a premium. But then it is Friday morning, and quite early, so we do find a space, and walk up the old High Street to the shop.

The good news is there are 8 shots that came out, but when I looked at their monitor, I have no idea about the best of them: there is one of a young woman having some kind of beauty treatment, a wedding and a group of hipsters in a restaurant. Not sure what it all means to be honest. But of the ones I took, three came out, but all are unusable.

Oh well. For the afternoon there is the treat of a steam railtour to look at and photograph. It is a choice of the usua locations, but with the cloudy day, it seemed probable that the light would fail quite ealy, and the usual location on Shakespeare Beach might be too dark by then. That left Minster of Chilham, and so it was Minster that won out, due to the slow speeds and plenty of time to take shots.

From Folkestone getting to Minster is not easy, but we have a couple of hours, which we will not need all of of course, but we go through Hawkinge, Wingham to Sandwich, then the by pass to Richborough turning off at the unusually named roundabout at Sevenscore. Then it was along the narrow lanes to Minster. We park at the station and go to the pub for a drink and a bite to eat at The Bell.

No cheesy chilli chips on offer any more, but I make do with a plate of nachos and a pint of Christmas beer. Most amazing thing about the Bell is Dave. Dave is a dg, an Irish Wolfhound, but a dog of huge size. He weighs 18 stone, and is three feet tall at the shoulder, but is gentle as a lamb, and well behaved, no venturing out of the small part of the bar he is allowed it.

At half one it is time to take our positions on the footbridge at the station, where a small crowd had already begun to arrive. I get the camera and big lens out, then walk up the footbridge to my usual place and then wait. But there was less than 20 minutes, and soon I see on the tracks below the points have already been set to allow the tour to cross onto the up line ready for the sharp turn off to the Sandwich line.

On time we see the plume of smoke in the distance, and the train, hauled by a Black 5, cruises down the long straight before the points. It crosses over, then as it reaches the start of the platform, the driver opens the regulator and the locomotive begins to work, and in time to the pistons working, a puff of white smoke leaves the chimney. Soon it is nearly below me, and then in a cloud of smoke enveloping the bridge, the train was past us and already turning sharply to the right; metal wheels screeching against check rails.

And it is gone, no more steam this year, and none until May next year.

We walk back to the car, retrace our tracks to Sandwich then go through Deal, passing by the castle on our way home.

We have burgers for dinner. Because, burgers. And beer.

Week 51 is over, it is the weekend and Christmas. Being Christmas there is football on at all times, including on Friday night as Arsenal and Liverpool try to outdo each other in showing how poorly they can defend. It ends 3-3, but at one time 10-10 seemed possible.