Saturday 16th February 2019

The weekend.

At last.

And we have some shopping to do.

At least to get some wine at least. Some other stuff might have been needed too.

And we were to take a huge bag of old clothes to the tip, or rather to the BHF drop off place in Tesco. Not sure if the old t shirts are good for much more than being dusters. But anyway, makes more stuff in the wardrobe, as I ordered a load of work clothes from the portal in the work intranet, and so now I have ten work t shirts, two coats and some working shirts too.

So we had to make room.

We drive to the Deal Road then along to the roundabout with the A2 where we find a huge jam, as traffic had backed up along Jubilee Way and back towards Whitfield. We did manage to get round to make our way to Tesco, but would need another way to get home.

We actually spent nearly 50 quid in Tesco this week, our shopping bill is way down now Jools is on the diet, and me eating stuff out of the freezer. I could have done with some bacon butties, mind.

Now, Brexit is coming, and if I am to carry on working abroad, I will need a driving permit. I find out the details, and as I discovered on Thursday, the local post office didn't do them, so I had to go into Dover.

We were early, so we went into La Salle Verte for breakfast. Or I did. I have a pot of tea and a sausage roll. Not that healthy, but healthier than the huge slab of shortbread they had in the display case. Jools just has some green tea.

I go to the post office at nine, only to find I had forgotten the passport photograph, so we return home, past the castle then along the coast road home.

Now, I could have left it for another week, but I had some old photos here ready to go, so I cut one of those out and go back into town while Jools trims the hedges.

When I get back to the post office, there was no queue. So I pass over my driving licence, passport, the photo and a fiver, and the poor guy had to write out the permit by hand, stamping the classes I could drive and my photo with he stuck on with Prit. It took 15 minutes, and by the time he was done, a line of ten people had formed. And this scene will be repeated at all post offices in the event of no deal, as all drivers who want to drive in the EU will need the permit.

But I got mine.

I drive back home, and wait while Jools cuts the hedge, until its midday and I go out to her and say, is it OK if we go to Walmer for the beer festival?

Of course it is.

So, I drive us to Walmer, parking outside the Green Berry, where inside, in the cellar, a dozen barrels had been set up. I go down to get a pint of dark cherry mild, which I had wanted to try, and was worth the trip over for.

I take the pint up to the bar, and sit with Jools as I make it vanish, then go back down for half of Imperial Stout, which was very imperial indeed.

Jools drove back, and I do some work on the computer, but get all cold, a sign I am tired. I decide to lay on the bed to listen to the football. Then I lay inside the bed when I am still cold.

I wake up at twenty to four and hear that City are already three up at Bolton. So, nothing to worry about. They score a forth in the second half, and miss another penalty, but that means we go back to the top of the league.

Which is nice.

We have burgers for dinner. A skinny one with salad for Jools and two in buns for me. I do skip beer though and have coffee instead.

For the evening I beat Jools again at Uckers, before she goes to bed early leaving me to watch the highlights of the football so I could watch all of City's goals again.