Saturday 15th January 2022

The weekend.

A couple of weeks ago, I saw a video of these flying are installations at Tate Modern, they looked and sounded interesting, so we decided to go.

IN the middle of a pandemic.

Yeah, might sound mad, but we thought it should be safe enpugh to go.

Friday afternoon Jools went shopping whilst I was in the pub with Pete meaning we could lay in on Saturday and catch the ten to eight train. Only we were awake at quarter past five, so go up, had coffee, fed the cats and I had a shower. We realised if we were quick we could catch the train an hour earlier and have breakfast out.

So, I got dressed, put on my coat, though did forget my inhaler for allergies, and we were out of the house and driving into Dover.

I got the last parking space in Priory Road, Jools had gone ahead to buy the tickets whilst I reversed parked, we then climbed on the train with over 5 miutes to spare.

As soon as the doors closed, my allergies started, and I had to just suffer, and suffer I did, sniffing and struggling to breathe through my mout as my nose was bunged up.

Sigh.

I had an hour of this to put up with, and outside too dark to see anything other than my own reflection looking back.

The train didn't get too full, just seven passengers at Folkestone West, and no more than that at Ashford, so there was no real rush to get off as the train pulled up at the buffers at St Pancras. And as expected, a few steps after getting off the train, the congestion in my nose eased, but I still needed a fresh supply of drugs, but find the Boots at the station did not open for ten minutes, so we went on a hunt for breakfast.

After much discussion, we decide we wanted a fry up, and cost was no issue, so we thought of going to the Booking Hall, the posh place in the hotel at the end of the station, but once we reach the door, we find it was closed, the door was, and entrance was somewhere outside. The Italian place next door had opened, and had no customers, and would be a third of the price, so we go there.

We have their version of a fry up, spicier and a little more herbie. And damn good coffee and free freshly squeezed orange juice.

That set up up for the morning, so we walk back to Boots, I get my drug, have a snort which sets up a fine bout of sneezing.

Lovely.

The easiest way to get to Tate Modern was to take the Thameslink sevice from under the station, from platform A, and any southbound train to Brighton, Gatwick or wherever would be fine for the three stops.

We wait a couple of minutes, and a 12 coach train pulled in. We have a carriage to ourselves, pretty much, and the train rattled out through the old track via Farringdon and City Thameslink to Blackfriars which now stretches right over the river. We couldn't see out of the windows, despite it being daylight now due to the thich fog, I take shots to try to pretend it was a 1950s pea-souper.

We able to the far end of the station, down the steps out onto the South Bank, and decide we needed more coffee, so we slum it in a Starbucks, and the coffee was fine, with an extra shot.

We wander around until it was nearly ten, then walk to the end of the Tate to queue to get in. We show our tickets and were allowed in, though initially disappointed that there was just one flying machine in the air, though there was the promise of more coming.

Jools, being sensible said why not go to have a look at some of the galleries and by then others might be in the air, so off we went to explore the modern art.

Modern art can work, sometimes doesn't, but there is a story to be told, from propagada to protest banners, I take some shots.

Back then to the turbine hall, and the air was full of flying balls of air and other things. It is magical, the things were self learning and don't bump into each other, and are like living things, kept afloat being full of gas and propelled by dozens of tiny propellers.

It was beginning to fill up, and neother of us were feeling to sharp. The initial plan had to meet a fellow GWUKer, but he had tested positive for COVID on Friday so could not make the meeting and beer with us, so I said we could go back home.

And that's what we did.

Walked back to Blackfriars where a on the platofrm above a train had pulled in, so we were back at St Pancras in ten minutes, and up on the Southeastern platoforms, a train to Dover was leaving in under twenty minutes.

Sorted.

We sank into our seats. Jools had a slightly upset stomach, and I had sore legs from my walk and hadn't really slept that well, so an early return would be most welcome.

The fog cleared, except near the Medway when thich fog returned, but the train rushed on.

Back in Dover, we collected the car and I drove up home, getting back just after one, time for a brew and a thich slice of the remaining Christmas cake, just one thin slice remains.

Jools watched the last ever episode of The Expanse, I followed the Citeh v Chelski game, then listened to the main batch of game, focussing on Norwich v Everton.

And in shock news, teams can apparently win instead of losing, and Norwich beat Everton 2-1, and in the process moved off the bottom of the table.

Wow.

I defrosted some ragu for dinner, boil some pasta and make some garlic bread, so we eat like (Italian) kings and queens. Again.

We go to bed at eight, pooped once again, but in genera, a good day.