Sunday 17th November 2019

A real day of rest.

No driving to Crewe.

No courses to prepare for.

No football to be watched, either recorded or live.

No haircut to get done. (not quite true, but I can't be arsed)

All under control, and so some forced relaxation to be done.

Apart from some cooking, drinking and snoozing.

I saw an ad pop up on Faceache for the Dover Transport Museum: we had never been, not far, so why not?

So why not indeed.

After breakfast of bacon butties, we drive to Whitfield, past Tesco, past the Kittiwake or whatever its called this week, to near where the pub quiz used to take place. Its been what seven or eight years since we were last down here.

Anyway, we park outside the museum, go and find its eight quid each to get in. I wanted to go to find more about the history of railways and trams in the town. Anything that runs on rails, really. But once inside I find it two halls of classic and vintage cars, all packed in. Round the side of the halls were alcoves made to look like shops. It was very well done.

What about the trains?

There was a large model railway layout between the two halls, in the second hall, more cars, trucks and buses.

No trains.

Just model ones.

Bah,

We were done in 20 minutes. Maybe 30.

We dive home for a brew and then for me to start to cook dinner/lunch.

Thing is, growing up, dinner was at dinner time, i.e. at midday, and tea was at tea time, in the evening when Dad got home. Thing is, Sunday roast is a roast dinner, which is eaten at around midday.

A bit like the public/private school confusion thing. No? Public school really means private. Probably just to confuse poor people or something.

Anyway, we were to have rack of lamb, roast potatoes, chili stir fry, fresh corn and Yorkshire pudding.

A fine meal and can be cooked from scratch in about an hour. Soon the kitchen is filled with the smell of roasting lamb, the veg is steamed and the spuds roasted.

We eat at about half one, toast ourselves with pink fizz, and eat well.

We sit on the sofa to watch The Sky at Night. Jools is snoozing within ten minutes. Par for the course. I barely make it to the end of the 30 minute show.

And ten it is football: England v Kosovo, a country I helped liberate from a small house in Italy where I cooked bbq for three weeks. True story. Anyway, they love the Brits (English) and waved flags, cheered and so on.

And England were rubbish, and Kosovo really good. England couldn't defend, and Kosovo couldn't shoot. It was entertaining.

England scored just before halftime, and things looked like they were getting better.

But didn't.

Much the same in the second half, but in the last 15 minutes, England score three more, and the win is very flattering.

Yay, England.

We have a brew, then I make kind of mini-pizzas with stale bread, cheese and ground pepper.

It worked, don't laugh.

And that was your Sunday. Full of nothing, and it took all day to get done.

As it should.