Sunday 16th February 2020

Second day of Storm Dennis.

Usually, on a Sunday we would be looking at going out, or gardening, or doing something out of the house. But on Sunday the winds continued to blow and the rain continued to fall. So, there seemed little point in going out to take photos of taking photos was almost impossible.

So, after coffee, I do a session on the cross trainer, then go downstairs to cool down, then as Jools did her session, getting cooking the bacon butties.

Heck, there was just the one game to watch on MOTD as I had watched the Norwich game live, so I skipped that and did other stuff while the storm blew itself out. Which it did by half eleven.

Our friends, Gary and Julie, had moved into a new house, and what with work and the weather, we had not been there, so with the wind and rain having eased, we drove over to River.

River used to be a village outside Dover, but now is part of it. And River has a river running through it. The River Dour, from which Dover takes it name.

Anyway.

They have moved into a smart two bedroom house on the edge of River, overlooking Kearsney Abbey gardens and park. Which is very nice.

They have almost unpacked everything, and things are going well, except Gary had just drilled a hole into an electrical cable and shorted the house out. That has to be professionally fixed now. We've all done it, just bad luck to find a cable one time.

Anyway, they have wonderful views over the rooftops to the valley side a mile away, and Gary has already got many species of birds coming into the garden to eat at their feeders.

We leave to go back home for lunch; a large pork pie each.

Pie.

And a brew.

And then to the football.

Many years I used to think how nice it would be to spend a winter's afternoon watching football. That was before Arsenal v Newcastle kicked off, mind. That was a dreadful game. And failed to get any better into the second half, so I gave up and went to make dinner. No sooner had I switched the TV off, did Arsenal score, not once, but twice. I don't care, my Dad would have said they couldn't have scored as long as they had a hole in their bum. And was right.

We feast on warmed up ragu, pasta and garlic bread, and was as wonderful as always. Maybe more so as the flavours had matured.

And somehow, despite doing very little, I was pooped again. Too tired to stretch my brain into a game of Uckers, so we frittered the evening away until it was time for bed.