Friday 22nd December 2023

Shortest day of the year.

As described on Thursday, there was a six hour lightning strike by staff controlling the Channel Tunnel, which resulted in chaos, which continued into Friday.

In fact getting worse as the morning went on.

And I had to get Jools to work, and pick her up later.

Eeek.

Getting round the jams around town was easy enough going out via the Alkham Valley, once we had got through the cars almost clocking the Duke of Yorks roundabout.

Coming back meant going up Stone Street, cutting through Postling, then again to Barham and onto Dover and the hellmouth that was Tesco at eight in the morning, falling just short of fights breaking out over the last bag of potatoes of loaf of bread, but getting close.

Then back home via Whitfield, West and East Langdon and to home, back at twenty past nine.

Back home I unpacked the shopping and put it away, had breakfast, coffee, second breakfast of crumpets.

At which point I decided all was well with the world.

Only possible fly in the ointment was having to go back out in the afternoon to pick up Jools from her office Christmas party. Through the day I kept an eye on the traffic, and from about 11, things did begin to ease, though not really around the port.

Jools texted to see if it was easier picking her up from Dover Priory if she got a train, but the madness was that it was easier for me to get to Folkestone that to the centre of Dover.

I left at three, going down the Alkham Valley again. At the roundabout at the end of the road, it was jammed going into Folkestone by lorries trying to get back onto the A20 towards Dover even though it was shut.

I went to the third turnoff for Folkestone, doubling back to the Leas where she was at the Burlington Hotel. And after a 20 minute wait, she calls to say she was done, I found her outside the hotel, she got in and we tried to get home.

In fact, the Elham Valley could be reached, so we went up that before cutting through at Elham to Swingfield, then to Lydden and up Whitfield Hill and home.

Oddly, no traffic anywhere on the route, even on Whitfield Hill, nothing on the roundabout either, so we whizzed round, a short blast down the A2 and home.

Phew.

Time for a brew and a handful of Celebrations from the tin that's not an actual tin.

At quarter to seven, with traffic mostly back to normal, we drove along to Whitfield, down the hill onto Temple Ewell, to meet Sean and Ange again, this time for a meal out at The Fox.

I had never been there before, as parking always looked so tricky, but turns out down the narrow lanes of the village, they have a large car park, so we left the car there, went inside to meet with our friends.

Oddly, for the Friday before Christmas, it wasn't too busy, but we had a reservation anyway. Friday night is steak special night, two for thirty five quid, and a bottle of wine.

Bargain!

Doubly so as Sean was paying, and as there was four of us, that meant there were two bottles of wine to drink, which we made disappear.

The steaks were OK, as were the free bowl of onion rings.

Merry Christmas.

One and all.