Wednesday 30th June 2021

If anything, Wednesday was colder than Tuesday, and so keeping a window open for POppy to use as an alternative exit meant the house was very chilly, even on the last day of June.

In the end, I closed the window and put the heating back on, hoping she would understand that the window would be opened when she wanted it, then closed again. All went well until late in the afternoon when a combination of the window being closed and Scully being behind me meant she ran away when I opened the window, and I did not see her until this morning.

But I stayed warm.

It was also damp in the morning, a light drizzle was falling when Jools headed off to work for the day, her last working day of the week, laden with stuff for her day and for the next three days when she is on the road. Or rather on the rails.

I was at home, as uaul, I made coffee, closed the windows and put the heating on, and hoped to warm up.

I had data to analyse, which meant I had six hours work to do, which with a fresh cup of Java I would rattle through.

The cats settle down after breakfast and I am at work, so all is at peace in the house. And I am now home alone at least until Friday evening, if not Saturday.

Eeeek.

Thing is, I am home alone for 11 hours a day anyway, and this didn't really feel that different if I'm honest, and Jools was at work as normal. I just had to remember to only cook for one for dinner.

And as the fridge was full of leftovers and stuff to be used, I defrosted a crispbake for lunch, warmed up some curried rice and cooked half the asparagus and the remainder of the mushrooms.

A meal fit for a king. Or a Bishop, anyway.

I work on, and finish at just before three, when I had to get my arse in gear.

Jen is to come back from Sylv, maybe with Sylv in tow too. But she isn't good with directions, less so with Sylv about who causes interfeance all the time, so one time driving back to Dover they ended up in Liverpool and another they couldn't find their way out of Essex. With a sat nav both times. So, Jools is to go up there, by train, to be in the car when they come down.

And to make an event out of it, Jools booked to travel to Dundee on the sleeper train (with new carriages), wander round a bit, then travel down to Manchester Thursday afternoon to be with Sylv and Jen Thursday and maybe Friday.

I would look after the house and the cats, and work.

I say work.......

And the one issue was that Jools had to work the whole day, then get the car back home and travel to London by train. It seemed mad for her to drive back here just to catch a train to go back in the same direction, she could gain an hour in London in which to have a relaxed dinner if I met her at Folkestone and drove the car home.

I just had to get there, either train or bus or taxi.

Tax would be easiest, but most expensive, and bus would take half the afternoon. So I would walk down to Martin Mill and catch the train straight to Folkestone West where I would meet Jools for ten minutes.

And then drive home.

Only isse was the walk to the Station. I mean we live just off Station Road, it leads to the station, but it is a busy road, there is no pavement or footway, and has high chalk banks along one stretch that means you can't get out of the way of any traffic.

And if you survive that, you then have to cross the busy Deal road, at a dangerous crossroads. Then you would be OK.

Just like Frogger.

It was raning when I left, so put on a coat and walked to the end of the street, then up the down until the pavement ran out, past the aircraft beacon and down the dangerous part of the road. It wasn't too busy, and those who saw me gave me a wide berth, except this one lady who drove so close I felt the wind caused by her car's wing mirror zipping past my hand.

Then at the Deal road, wait for a gap in the traffic, and a lorry trning right from Station Road slowing to let me cross, and, safe!

From there it was a walk down to the physion centre, then up to the station, where the high speed service from Sandwich had deposited a load of high school kids, whose parents were now picking them up in Range Rovers and other 4x4s.

I walked to the station to get my ticket, I had twenty minutes to wait, but better to get here in time rather than to have to rush.

I last travelled on a train on 21st February last year. Something so everyday I barely thought about it, but now was something to really look forward to. The Eelctrostar rolled in and I got in a carriage, one of eight, that only had one other passenger, who was watching boxing on his phone, loudly.

I stared out of the window, the left hand side as usual. All was as it used to be, just vegetation taller, greener. Views across Dover as we came out of Guston tunnel were as good as ever, then the trundle down to Priory Station to collect three more passengers. And then along to the coast, through Harbour Tunnel and past the former Harbour Station before furning south towards Folkestone and diving beneath Shakespeare Cliff.

I get out at Folkestone West, and Jools had just arrived, and was sitting in the car waiting, amazed that I had arrived at the right place at the right time.

We swap news and chat for ten minutes, then it is time for her to catch the first of her trains to Scotland. With just one change of train she would be in Dundee for breakfast. I wave goodbye as I drive by.

Back home though busy traffic, but not as bad as feared, up Jubilee Way, along the Deal road and then to Chez Jelltex. Mulder and Scully were waiting, and the message was:

Meow.

Just us now, kid, I said.

I feed them, then make a half batch of fritters, fry them double quick and within half an hour or so, I am sitting down dipping them in garlic mayo and toasting myself with a pint of squash.

Sadly, no football again that night, but in truth I was tired. Pooped in fact. Two nights of extra time and penalties meant not going to bed before eleven, and then up at five the next morning.

Pooped.

So, once Marc Riley had ended at nine, I switched everything off and headed to bed, followed by Cleo who now spends most nights between my legs. Fnar. Fnar.