Sunday 6th January 2019

I don't always get things right. In fact, things rarely go as planned. Turns out little by bit I killed the frying pan I make my various dishes. I had burned the non stick coating off, and everything started to stick. There is a shop we like in Canterbury we like, the Steamer Trading Co, so we thought we could go into the city and be at the shop at ten, get a new pan and be out and home by half eleven.

That was the plan.

At least I did not have football to watch. Well, I did, but the magic of the cup evaporated years ago, and the media's focus now is on the so called big clubs no matter who they play. They have ratings to chase, I know, but the cup is about, well, the history, the magic and the fans. But not any more. Spurs fans had to travel to the north west on Friday night so to satisfy TV demands. There was no way for the fans to get back home. But the show must go on, on TV. Bugger the proles.

And so it went on all through the weekend. Man Utd, Arse both were on TV not because their games they were in danger of losing, just to get bigger ratings. Each round of the cup is being messed around with; replays limited, then scrapped. Extra time; scrapped. All to give five or six teams more time to play European games, getting paid for, but not sharing their windfall with anyone else.

And yet, despite all that, there were upsets aplenty, and more to come as it happened.

After breakfast of bacon butties and another brew, we set off for Canterbury, meeting heavy traffic from the port, and the usual BMW and Merc drivers who thought the outside lane was for their use and theirs alone. But we reach Canterbury safe and sound, just. We park in car park near the bus station, and after paying, we walk into the centre, finding the pace just about deserted.

We wander around so I could get some shots, unspoilt by people, then with half an hour to kill, we decide that we might like second breakfasts. So near to the cathedral gate we find a nice little independent place with tables, and I have a good large strong coffee and a slice of warm citrus cheesecake, every bit as yummy as it sounds, as you can see here.

At ten we go to the Buttercross, and find that the shop was closed. Either permanently or while they were doing building work. Either way we were not getting a frying pan from there. So we go to Debenhams, which had just opened. They had what we wanted, and with 20% off. We buy a pan and get out.

We walk to the High Street, already filling up with people. My back was playing up. So, shall we go home I ask. We shall.

Back home along the A2 and home so to be home before half eleven, and with half the day to fill with stuff.

So, with the day we laze around. I rest my back, and Jools clears out the guttering, re-pots some plants, and then I get busy, making dinner. Steak and ale pie with fresh veggies, red wine gravy and lots of roast potatoes.

It is splendid, we eat well, and wash it down with a bottle of pink fizz, because we can.

I spend the rest of the afternoon, listening to the afternoon games and trying to stay awake. Jools remains busy, ironing. I watch Leicester lose to Newport County Mk II.

I was happy with that, happy enough to in the end play Uckers with Jools, which I win another game.

But somehow another weekend had slipped by, and tomorrow another working week begins.