Sunday 13th December 2020

It was six weeks since I had my last hair cut, and I was sporting a luch barnet. I assumed that the initial rush after the lockdown ending had passed, so I would travel to Folkestone for a mangle, and hoped it not take all day.

I did have a plan, be at the shop half an hour before the opening time to be first in line. Then snip, snip, snip.

But as Kent is still tier 3, no chance of meeting Mary for a coffee and a chat, so just us.

And my hair.

Oddly, I slept long and soundly, waking up just before half seven, just after lunch, really, with it getting light and Jools banging around to try to raise me.

I get up, we have a coffee, then are dressed and we go out, as with rain due in the afternoon, any snapping had to be done in the morning, before the hair cut.

The jams of Saturday had melted away, and there was little traffic about, so we went through town, onto the A20 and up to Capel and Folkestone.

No drama.

We drove down beside the old Harbour Branch, which after much effort had been put in by Network Rail to get the vegetation under control, no one has done much this year, and it has returned to a wild garden, full of brambles and teasel. And one rust track leading down to where the walkway over the harbour starts.

We park at the top of Tontine Street, it feels like dusk and a gentle drizzle began to fall.

But it doesn't last, so we walk down the old High Street, looking like a film set, but is real, all narrow cobbled street wide enough for a single wagon, lined with shops now turned into coffee shops and galleries. All closed.

We dod some window shopping on the way down, and once at the harbour go up the stops to the old railway, taking the walkway over the spans of the piers and to the swing bridge. There was just a couple of people about. Not a good sign for the Christmas Fayre setting up, and the rain later in the day would dampen crowds even further. But I do find something for Jools' siblings, which was a good resut.

We walk halfway up the harbour arm, not much open, just a coffee shop, we think about getting bacon butties, but change our mind and say we will eat once we get home.

I turn for land at nine, walking back up the OLd High Street to the car, where I left Jools to read her book in the car, and I walked the five minutes to the barbers, taking a place at the door to wait for it to open.

Just after half nine, the shop is opened, and I was first, of course, so shown into the chair and the guy does wonders with clippers and scissors, taking off an inch all over, and making me look almost presentable. I give hom a twenty quid tip, as thanks for keeping going, we almost hug, and i am done, out of the shopa nd walking back to the car.

Rain began to fall, so we go home.

And the rain had set in for the day, nothing other than the supermarkets open, but we had shopped. There was always football, of course. And there was the chance of watching four games, one after the other on Sky.

We have brunch.

A coffee.

Mince pies.

Another coffee.

I write.

At half twelve I was all done.

I put the football on.

I watch the rest of that game. All of the Palace v Spurs on. All of Fulham v Liverpool.

It was six.

We have dinner. Breaded chicken, chips and stir fry.

I did not watch the last game as Arse lost at home to Burnley. But laughed as I followed the game on Twitter.

We went to bed at nine.

Sunday done.