Thursday 28th December 2017

I suppose I should tell you about the camera I killed. Or thought I killed. I mean it wasn't on purpose, but you know, I saw a photographic opportunity down in Dover on Wednesday, water must have gotten in to its gubbins, and when I came to use it yesterday, it would not switch off, or if you took the battery out the lens would not retract. I stress that this is on my fairly new compact camera, but I would rather it worked, as it is very handy to pop in a coat pocket.

I checked online and found if I took the memory card out, the camera would switch off. Which it did, but then you had to take the battery our or it would switch back on again.

It was usable, but not in a meaningful way. I still harboured the hope it was just damp and would be better in the morning. Just frustrating really that the shot I risked the camera for was a grab shot of Dover Castle from a car park in the snow, not even worth posting to be honest.

Bah.

But what the camera Gods taketh, they giveth, as I have ordered a new DSLR, the updated Mk II version of what I have now, and should be here on Friday (it was). So excited I have to say.

And then Wednesday, it was one of those rare days where we had nothing planned, but you will be pleased to know I filled it with some photography based malarkey. Yay.

It also seems we have this laying in business down to a tea now, as we have switched the heating and hot water off, so the pup and boiler coming on at half six does not wake us up now. We snooze until it is nearly light, at which point we leap out of bed, and after the first coffee of the day, I do another session on the cross trainer; the third since Christmas Eve, and one would hope signs of things to come. It might be small potatoes at the moment, but if I step up to do half an hour or so five days a week, and then walking at weekends too, maybe coupled with a reduction in the booze intake, I might make a difference.

Not that I drink too much, but a beer or a glass or two a night is too much.

Outside, it is a glorious sunny winter's day, and my plan was to go to Barham to snap the church there, as it was one of the first I did at the beginning of the church project.

At half ten we get into the car, and we drive to the Duke of Yorks to blend in with the port traffic, having just got off a ferry. Not many cars of lorries obeying the rules of the road, and much to Jools's annoyance, I made good and frequent use of the car horn.

You know, pick a lane. Any lane.

Barham is a large village just below the A2 on the way to Canterbury, the main street is wide enough for just one car in places, and it winds its way down through the houses to the valley bottom where sometimes the Nailbourne flows. But we did not go down that far this day. St John the Baptists stands on a piece of level ground, and the road skirts round the edge before diving down to the village up. It is unusual for Kent in that it has a copper spire, turned to vert de gris, and in the bright sunshine would stand out fabulously against the blue sky behind.

Of course I was right, it did look stunning, and more than that, I guessed it would be open, which it was. So I was able to go round to take more snaps, and found much more to make note of than I did on my previous two visits.

I had seen online shots of some snowdrops already out in other parts of the country, so I thought we could swing by Waldershare to check on the snowdrops in All Saints graveyard. But alas there was no sign, not even of green shoots. So, I made do with taking shots of some dead leaves, dusted with frost and we called on Jen.

Christmas is difficult for those who have lost a love one, and although we pretend that things are fine, there is a sadness ust below the surface. There was a slight melancholy with Jen. I'm sure she will fine in the new year when she begins planning her trip to Australia to visit friends and family. Until then, the short days and long nights give time to think and ponder.

Bach home for lunch; last of the salt beef and a brew, with more mince pies in the afternoon as the sun set away in the west. At the end of the year there is much writing to be done, pictures to edit and radio to listen to. It doesn't listen to itself you know.

Late in the evening we have dinner/supper; soup and potato bread, which was gd and had plenty of fibre, something that salt beef and mince pies don't have.