Thursday 13th October 2022

Time to go home.

He said.

I woke up at half six, and remembered my boss had invited me to a meeting at half seven, just as breakfast was starting. I had accepted it before putting in my travel details. So, best log on with the work computer.

I did, and found it had been moved to half ten, when I would certaily be either on the ferry or driving between Southampton and Dover.

I declined it, turned off the computer and went down to breakfast, where the waiter knows my order by now. He said the sarnie looked so good on Tuesday morning, he had one for his breakfast and said it was a king among sandwiches.

I sat at the usual table, and my view was very different, with it being overcast, very overcast with cloud ceiling of what looked about 100 feet. I could make out the red funnel ferry heading to Cowes. Next one would be the one I would catch.

I ate my sarnie and went up to my room to pack. I gave myself 45 minutes to get to the port, checked out and drove through town to the floating bridge, waited ten minutes then boarded. It failed to break down, so arrived at five past nine, with the ferry already loading fot the half nine sailing.

I checked in, then waited to be called to drive onboard, i took a book then climbed up the the loungs, got a seat by a wondow on the port side, as outside the clouds were now delivering drizzle.

I buried my head in my book while the ferry was made ready. The engine note changed and there was a vibration felt through the hull, and we began to move forward.

Not much really to report abou the crossing, no liners passed, just a bulk gas freighter and a couple of other Red Funnel ferries. Southampton drew near.

After docking, we went down to our cars and waited our turn to drive off, out onto the main road out of town, leading to the start of the motorway.

Traffic was light, up through Hampshire and towards London, turning off onto the m25, where there were no jams, although it seems policy now that speed limits are imposed even if the incident is on the other side of the road.

Into Kent and down towards Dover, making good time, meaning I would be home by two. Which I would have been had there not been an accident on the Deal road, leaving me and hundreds of other drivers stuck in a jam until the accident was cleared, but as I turned off before the site of the crash, I have no idea how bad it was.

I had enough time for a brew and a sandwich before I had to take the car back.

I returned it with no damage, but it seems the car hire place forgot to take payment when I picked the car up. So I paid, then walked round to Marks and Spencer for some supplies, then to the White Horse for a pint and wait for Jools to pick me up.

The White Horse is where all Channel swimmers go to celebrate, and every one writes their names on the walls and ceilings, and even though I knew her name was there, to see Meg's name in black and white caused me to choke back tears.

Jools was waiting, she called, so I went out and she took us home, where four hungry cats were waiting.

I make chorizo hash for dinner and emptied an already open bottle of red plonk, and life seemed better.

As usual, there was Marc Riley and football to entertain me through the evening. Poor Jools had another coughing attack, this belending into one that lasted most of the evening. And she thought she was getting better.