Saturday 9th October 2021

The age old question is "what to do with the weekend?"

And usually, depending on the season is either orchid, butterfly or church related. With the occasional steam tour thrown in.

But this autumn, post-COVID, or as close to that as we are, even though mass infections and deaths are ongoing, distancing and so on have been lifted, so crawling can now be done again.

But the biggest issue is our turntable isn't right. The treble sounded awful, and you have to take it to a dealer in that make, and the nearest one to us is in Ashford, so once the orchid season faded, and we weren't going to London or wherever, we could go to Ashford to the shop.

So, a plan to be in Ashford at nine, or just past, drop the deck in, have breakfast and then a few hours churchcrawling was in order.

Jools then found out that the hospital in London where Andy, her boss, is in for the operation and recovery, had visting times, so she was going up on the train in the afternoon, meaning time would be tight.

We did sleep in until twenty past your actual seven in the morning, meaning I wasn't a grmp any more. We had a cofee, fed the cats and I unplugged the turntable and packed it in the car along with the caera gear.

We left at half eight, driving along the A20 and M20, mixing it with lorries that had just come off a ferry and more that were leaving the tunnel heading towards London and beyond.

We had time, so we cruised to Ashford, then round the ring road, past the station and finally to a multistory car park near the centre.

We walked to the High Street, then in the wrong direction. Jools looked at her phone, got directions, we walked back towards the church, and there was the shop.

A helpful chap let us in, and plugged it into his equipment, he rebalanced the tone arm, and then played some songs. It sounded great. I gave him twenty quid for his trouble, and all seemed well.

From there we walked up and stopped at a Cypriot plaace for breakfast, and both choosing a Cypriot breakfast which was mainly about dipping things and combining flavours and textures.

I had a Turkish coffee to round it off; thick and sweet. And perfect.

The town was filling up, so we walk back to the car and drive back out past the station and out to Kingsnorth, once a quiet village I suspect, but now just a suburb of Ashford, though with an olde worlde pub and some houses. I looked at the sat nav for the church; Church Hill seemed a good bet, so we turned left though another faceless housing estate to the chuch and pretty clapboard cottage beside it.

I checked the porch and found the door open, so went back to get the cameras while Jools went for a walk.

St Michael and All Angels is an ancient church, but the Victorians and WWII has left little of that history. Just a fragment of ancient glass and a wall painting. I had been here before, a decade ag, and a review of churches visited showed I needed to come back to retake shots and the details I missed then.

Job done, I sat in the car waiting for Jools, before we made our way back to the motorway and then back to Dover and home. Where there was just enough time for Jools to have a brew make a sandwich before I dropped her down at Priory Station to catch the quarter to one train, leaving me the afternoon to potter.

I had left a pound and a half of dried fruit to soak at breakfast, meaning I could finish preparing the first of the Dundee Christmas cakes. And once mixed popping the mixture in a lined tin into a low oven for four and a half hours.

I tidy up, have lunch and a brew, before going out for a walk for another butterfly hunt.

It was a glorious autumn day, though later than I'd liked, as it was three, and the shadows were lengthening, so I walked up Station Road to the top track, then along to Windy Ridge looking for any butterflies as I walked.

I only saw a single Comma basking, and wings not fully open, but I take a shot anyways.

In the field the other side of the barbed wire fence I saw another Clouded Yellow flitting from plant to plant. There was no way over the fence, and by the time there was, the butterfly was long gone, but that didn't stop me walking along the hedgeline for half an hour in the hope of seeing it basking.

From there it was a simple walk back home for some cheese on toast and another brew, and then wait for news from Julie.

I got a text saying she would be arriving at Priory at half seven, perfect as the cake would bedone at seven, giving me just enough time to pick her up and getting back in time for the football.

So, once the cake was done, and checked by using a knitting needle so it came out clean, I drive to the station to pick up Jools, not thinking of taking my phone.

In the meantime, Jools had decided to wait to get a slightly later train from St Pancras so not having to change at Ashford.

So, I was waiting outside the station, I saw the train come in, people got off, and there was no sign of JUlie.

Eeeek!

Maybe I had msunderstood I thought, or she had fallen asleep and she might be at Martin Mill, so I hotfoot it up to Martin, where there was no one waiting.

I went home to get my mobile and find three missed calls from Jools, explaining the situation. I call her and she says she'd get a taxi home. I put on the football and boil the kettle.

By the time she got home, Englandw ere 1-0 up and cruising.

Andy is OK, though cannot walk, he has exercses he has to do.

We snack on party food for supper, and England cruise on, running in another four goals against the might of Andora.

Job done.