Thursday 19th January 2023

Thursday morning, and all I had to do was get back to Kent. Hopefully before five so I could hand the hire car back, but getting back safe and sound would do, really.

I woke at six so I could be dressed for breakfast at half six when it started, and as usual when in a hotel, I had fruit followed by sausage and bacon sarnies. And lots of coffee.

Outside it had snowed. OK, it might only be an inch of the stuff, but that's more than an inch needed to cause chaos on the roads.

Back to the room to pack, one last look round and back to reception to check out, then out into the dawn to find that about a quarter of the cars were having snow and ice cleared off them before being able to be driven.

I joined them, scraping the soft snow then the ice. Bracing stuff at seven in the morning.

Now able to see out, I inched out of the car park and out to the exit and onto the untreated roads.

It was a picturesque scene, but not one I wanted to stop to snap. My first road south had only been gritted on one side, thankfully the side I was travelling down, but was still just compacted snow.

After negotiating two roundabouts, I was on the on ramp to the M6, and a 60 mile or so drive south. The motorway was clear of snow, but huge amounts of spray was thrown up, and the traffic was only doing 45mph, or the inside lane was, and that was quite fast and safe enough for me.

More snow fell as I neared Stoke, just to add to the danger of the journey, and then the rising sun glinted off the road, something which I had most of the drive home.

I went down the toll road, it costs eight quid, but is quick and easy. And safe too with so little traffic on it. I think for the first time, I didn't stop at the services, as it was only about half nine, and only three hours since breakfast.

And by the time I was on the old M6, there was just about no snow on the ground, and the road was beginning to dry out.

My phone played the tunes from my apple music store. Loudly. So the miles slipped by.

After posting some shots from Fotheringhay online, a friend, Simon, suggested others nearby that were worth a visit, and I also realised that I hadn't taken wide angle shots looking east and west, so I could drop in there, then go to the others suggested.

And stopping here was about the half way point in the journey so was a good break in the drive, and by then the clouds had thinned and a weak sin shone down.

Fotheringhay is as wonderful as always, it really is a fine church, easy to stop there first, where I had it to myself, and this time even climbed into the richly decorated pulpit to snap the details.

A short drive away was Apethorpe, where there was no monkey business. The village was built of all the same buttery yellow sandstone, looking fine in the weak sunshine.

Churches in this part of Northamptonshire are always open, Simon said.

Not at Apethorpe. So I made do with snapping the church and the village stocks and whipping post opposite.

A short drive up the hill was King's Cliffe. Another buttery yellow village and a fine church, which I guessed would be open.

Though it took some finding, as driving up the narrow high street I failed to find the church. I checked the sat nav and I had driven right past it, but being down a short lane it was partially hidden behind a row of houses.

The church was open, and was surrounded by hundreds of fine stone gravestones, some of designs I have not seen before, but it was the huge numbers of them that was impressive.

Inside the church was fine, if cold. I record what I could, but my compact camera's batter had died the day before, and I had no charger, so just with the nifty fifty and the wide angle, still did a good job of recording it.

Back to the car, I program the sat nav for home, and set off back to Fotheringhay and the A14 beyond.

No messing around now, just press on trying to make good time so to be home before dark, and time to go home, drop my bags, feed the cats before returning the car.

No real pleasure, but I made good time, despite encountering several bad drivers, who were clearly out only to ruin my mood.

Even the M25 was clear, I raced to the bridge, over the river and into Kent.

Nearly home.

I drive back down the A2, stopping at Medway services for a sandwich and a huge coffee on the company's credit card.

And that was that, just a blast down to Faversham, round onto the A2 and past Canterbury and to home, getting back at just after three, time to fill up the bird feeders, feed the cats, unpack and have a brew before going out at just gone four to return the car.

Jools would rescue me from the White Horse on her way home, so after being told the car was fine, walked to the pub and ordered two pints of Harvey's Best.

There was a guy from Essex and his American girlfriend, who were asking about all sorts of questions about Dover's history, and I was the right person to answer them.

I was told by a guide from the Castle I did a good job.

Yay me.

Jools arrived, so I went out and she took me home. Where the cats insisted they had not been fed.

Lies, all lies.

Dinner was teriyaki coated salmon, roasted sprouts and back, defrosted from before Christmas, and noodles.

Yummy.

Not much else to tell, just lighting the fire, so Scully and I would be toast warm watch the exciting Citeh v Spurs game, where Spurs were very Spursy indeed.