Sunday 25th April 2021

April.

Apparently.

I say that, as the sun from Saturday had been replaced with cloud, a strong north wind and temperatures of five grees that would climb to about nine by the middle of the afternoon. We were to go to Samphire Hoe early on, but the lack of sun and the strong wind really ruled that out.

We get up, have breakfast of crossants, and with the knowledge we were not going out until nine, turn the heating up a couple of notches. We have the radio on, and quietly we let the morning slip by, until nine comes round and we leave for Folkestone.

13 days before, hairdressers and barbers opened, I waited until the surge had died down, but needed a haircut badly. And Sunday was the day.

We drove through Dover, up the A20 before turning off and driving through Capel, down into Folkestone, parking in our usual spot near the top of the Old High Street.

I walk up to the old Town Hall, and find the place already open at half nine, an early bird getting theirs done first. I put on a mask and go in and wait until one of the other guys comes in to start work, and he biegins "operation big job".

He takes 50 minutes, shearing me of my long locks, creating a carpet of hair ankle deep around the chair. Always amazes me that for 40-50 minutes I get charged twelve quid, whereas for less than half that time, Jools get charged twenty five knicker. Maybe she should go where I go?

I come out, and it is still cold, too cold to have second breakfast or a coffee at one of the eateries with on street seating, as eating inside isn't allowed. But I do buy two slices of cake from a new shop. I ask te owner which is his best, he says in his thich Spanish accent that they are all good, but the nut cake is great. I buy two portions, and they are huge and look sweet.

But what the heck.

I meet Jools back at the car, as she had given up walking in the cold weather and sat in the car, reading.

We drive home, not stopping as all the lights on Townwall Street were green for once.

And that is that.

Jools did some work in the garden, but my foot was achey again, so I sit with it elevated. I watch a podcast, make ham rlls for lunch as Jools was going swimming at one, now that the pool is backopen, though with reduced numbers.

I stay home and write, watch football, and make sure the coffee is already to go when she got home at half two. We have fresh coffee with the portion of cake each, it was sweet, but not heavy as what looked like sponge was merangue. Or something.

But was sweet.

I watch more football, Man Utd at Dirty Leeds, it was dull as watching Ipswich and ended 0-0. Then it was time for the League Cup Final, Spurs v Citeh. And Spurs, now without Jose, were dreadful, lacking in ambition or apparent desire. They lost 1-0 and were lucky to get nil.

The day rushed to a close, I made chorizo hash, which seems to be the new Sunday lunch, at least until I can eat beef again. And have a red wine spritzer, though there was so little wine it was realy just coloured soda water.

In the evening it was time for more #wildflowerhour action on Twitter, and that was that, another weekend done and dusted.