Friday 20th December 2019

Chores.

Yes, chores.

And as fitting a day day, we were awake at half five, though I did drop back off and woke with a start when I saw the lights on downstairs. I looked with bleary eyes at the clock and thought it said something blurry. Is it time to get up?

Yes, I have yoga.

Oh yeah.

And when she comes back, we have a whole stack of things to do. And I mention there might be a train to see later.

Maybe.

Meaning most certainly.

So, Jools goes to yoga, then swimming. And by the time she returns I have had breakfast, a shower, shave and actually have my trousers on.

She has breakfast, and then we can go out.

First into town to pay in a cheque at the bank, as they are still a thing, and it still is the easiest way to get money to those who are owed. In this case, £28 for Mum's 8 setting Royal Doulton dinner service which we dropped off at the auctioneers when Mum was interred. We don't have eight friends let alone many more than two coming to dinner at any one time, and I have no need for soup tureens and the like.

We walk up to WH Smiths to buy cards for each other, we both bought humourous ones, because Christmas.

Up along the Old Folkestone Road is where we were married, Great Farthingloe Farm, on the other side of the road is the Little Farm, and they have a fruit and veg shop, as well as a bakery and cider shop. Something for all the family. So, we decided where possible to buy local fruit and veg rather than from Tesco to try to support local businesses and farmers.

We stock up on taters and sprouts and cauliflower. Everything we need for Christmas dinner. Jools buy two plastic containers of scrumpy, one yellow and the other orange, looking for all the world like samples.

And then there is Tesco.

I don't know what it is about Brits and Christmas and grocery shopping, but you would think that the shops were never going to open again. In the car park there were people with arrows on sticks highlighting empty parking spaces, then insde there were people everywhere. And where there were not people there were stacks of mince pies.

I mean towering great piles of boxes of mince pies.

Mince pies are what we eat when we can't get pigs in blankets. Or water. Or something.

We don't need much, so go round trying to speak to many people except to say "sorry" when I knock into them, some don't say the same when they knock me out of the way. Shelves are emptied as soon as they are filled, and staff can't get new stock through the shoppers. Christmas was still five days away. It would get more manic.

Not that we'd be there to see it.

But we were done, we pay and get to the car, load up and drive home, swearing we won't have to do this again until after the 25th.

Back home I make a batch of sausage rolls for lunch, which as ever are glorious out of the oven with a fresh strong brew.

The last of the Norwich City stuff had been found, and the landlord of The Berry said he could find homes for the programs and stuff, so we load the car for him. On the way, as I pointed out, I could snap the railtour as it passed through Walmer; a new location, but in a hill so the steam locomotive would have been working hard. If a steam locomotive would have been available. But wasn't.

Still, a railtour, why not?

We arrived at the station with 20 minutes to wait, rain still fell, and the wind was keen, but there was promise of sunshine before the sun set in about an hour.

I go to the platform to check the shots, just about as expected.

Anyway, I am just going to stand on a cold and wet platform for 20 minutes trying not to look too suspicious. I am joined by a young man with two tripods and a video camera. He tells me the train is on its way, so I stand beside him as the train climbs the hill into the station, working hard as the 47 and 9 carriages roll by and then tackles Guston Bank towards Dover.

Light was fading, but the camera caught the shots, not that good, but still, only the second tour I snapped this year, I believe.

From Walmer station to The Berry and to drop off two more boxes of programs. Chris was there and was pleased, so he gave us free drinks, which was nice. Jools and I sat in The Snug nursing our free drinks. I swear free beer tastes better. Harvey's Old is a fine pint anyway, but not Adnam's Old good, though. But then what is?

We drive back home in the gathering gloom of another winter's afternoon, back in time for the last Lamacq Show on the wireless. I make a brew and cut a huge slice of Christmas cake.

And relax.

In the evening we have more sausage rolls, mince pies, and then settle down to watch the second episode of His Dark Materials.

And that is it for another day. Another week, and nearly another year and decade.

But more of that another time.

Good night.