Saturday 14th December 2019

It was never my intention to write 1000 blogs this year, but it seems I may just be on course for that feat. t was helped by me publishing some of my older writings over Christmas and New Year, so that explains some of the spike in posts.

I will try to limit posts to one of Brexit a day from now on, or in the new year. Between now and January, Brexit will be quiet, as Johnson reshuffles his Cabinet and policies.

So, for the lest two weeks of the year, let us enjoy the peace before the chaos.

Ad let us start with Saturday.

Jools had done shopping and run all the chores that needed to be done, and the weather was fine, if windy. So, what do you want to do?

Not much to be honest, I had the idea of going to Tilmanstone in order to revisit one of the earlier local churches I have done. And that was it really.

We had fruit and croissants for breakfast, then loaded the car ready for the short drive to Tilmanstone, just shy of Eastry.

It is the last weekend before the Christmas rush, so roads were quiet, meaning we got to the Sandwich road with no trouble, and from there cruise up to Tilmanstone.

The village is a grid of narrow lanes, and the church hides at the junction of two of those, parking is almost impossible, but I do find a place meaning other cars can (just) get by.

I take my camera bag up the slope to the church, and through the well-tended churchyard to find the door locked with a combination lock.

I take these shots, then on the way back to the car, the dog in the yard opposite was being very noisy, the owner came to see the source and asked me if I wanted to go inside the church?

Yes please.

He took me back to the porch, diddled the numbers and the porch door was opened.

Inside if was pretty much as I remembered it, but I see a few details I missed, so go round snapping those. And that was that.

I walk back to the car to find that Jools had not joined me in the church as I had locked her in the car. She wasn't too angry, however, so we drive off to head home.

I wanted to find and snap the most famous signpost in Kent, so we set off along country lanes in search of it.

Everyone knows Sandwich, of course, but nearby there is a small hamlet called Ham. And at a lonely crossroads there is a sign posting the way to both Ham and Sandwich. It has been snapped many times, and stolen nearly as many times too.

We stumble upon it, and so I park, unsafely, on the crossroads to get the shot, then drive off after only inconveniencing just the one local who seemed happy enough to have to go round the other side of the junction.

Sorry about that.

We drove home via yet more country roads, through a long chain of tiny villages and guessing at each junction where to go. We saw the mill at Ripple so aimed the sar just south of that. Thus getting us safely home. Though it did take half an hour to do the 5 or so miles home.

So, I have had a cold coming for a few days. Each day it gets a little worse but not by much. I have a sore throat, but not so sore so that you can hear it. I sneeze, but not overly so, ad cough occasionally, enough to keep me awake for hours. I mention this as despite not sleeping too badly, I feel like shit. And will mean later that we bail on cards early.

So I am feeling rough on Saturday afternoon. I write some, listen to the radio, and then settle down for the football at three.

Norwich were on the big game; second from bottom playing second from top; Leicester v Norwich, and Leicester on an eight game winning run. 24 points from 8 games. And along came Norwich.

I struggled to stay awake, and so heard Norwich take the game to Leicester, and Pikki score midway through the first half. Sadly, Leiester level just before halftime from a corner, but Norwich give as good as the get and get a point. Rub broken.

And Norwich deserved it, showing we have more than enough to get out of the hole.

Before heading to Jen's, we have a slice of Christmas cake because its nearly Christmas, and we have a spare.

And then to Jen's and cards. But Jools and I decide that we should leave at nine, giving us time to have a game of each.

And what do you know, I win both, scooping the jackpot in Queenie with a run of four. I scoop the money up and pour it into our money bag. Mwah ha ha.

And to home, and bed.

But despite being shattered, my gentle coughing keeps me awake until nearly midnight That nad both cats bring in mice to sacrifice under our bed. And being so darn noisy about it. Mulder sang for 15 minutes before eating the poor mouse.

Good night.