Saturday 16th December 2023

The weekend before Christmas and we go up to that London for a few hours.

Up before dawn and after coffee, we whizz down to Dover Priory where Jools got her over 60's railcard, thus knocking 25% or so off the price of her ticket.

A 375 took up platform one, looking very dirty indeed, so we had to cross to platform 2, revealing the "message" on the other side of the train.

The Javelin pulled in and we took seats near the back, facing backwards.

So, we went backwards into the new day.

The train wasn't that busy, but then we were on the ten to eight train and so arriving in London before nine, so that might explain why it was not that busy.

To get to Borough Market there are several ways to do either from Stratford or St Pancras.

In the end we went to Stratford so we could take in this year's stunning Christmas tree: one like a library fill of books.

Very effective!

We took shots then headed two two levels to the Thameslink lines to catch a train to London Bridge.

As usual, there are no signs pointing the way to Borough Market from the stations, and we're sure there used to be, directing you from the station, over the main road and down a tunnel.

We wandered over the road and not past the cathedral, but found the market anyway. All we had to do was find the stall with the Italian cured meats.

Well.

We searched and searched. I knew where it roughly was, though not what it was called. Anyway, after 15 minutes Jools found another place that did guanciale. I bought two chunks and some more smoked mozzarella.

All we had to do was fight through the thing back to London Bridge and catch a train northbound.

I can remember coming to the Market back before I joined Vestas, maybe 15 years back, and the crowds were nothing like this. In the main hall, there was a people jam, but we fought through and broke into open ground, thus finding the tunnel back to the station.

We followed the signs to the station entrance, but this was the entrance to the Southern platforms, poor signage pointed down a single escalator to the lower concourse for platforms 1 to 9, where Southeastern and Thameslink leave from.

Over to platform 5 where Thameslnk trains leave every two or three minutes, but we were only going as far as Blackfriars.

We get off at Blackfriars to catch an eastbound District Line train to Tower Hill, where crowds of folks got off, all heading for the Tower, of course. Instead we followed the signs to Tower Gateway, the single platform station for the DLR towards Canary Wharf.

A train was waiting, so we climbed on and soon were trundling the two stops to Limehouse, I think we may have been here before, but not sure.

A short walk from the station to Limehouse Basin, the start, or end, of The Regent's Canal, and home to hundreds of boats, narrow and not so narrow, filling most of the open water.

We hustled round and to Narrow Street, over the tow bridge leaping over the canal, and to the 18th century Thameside pub, The Grapes.

It had just opened, so we got beers and waited beside the first for our Flickrfriend and fellow GWUKer, Graham to arrive.

When he did, we moved to the quieter first floor, with views out over the river and east to Canary Wharf.

We send a second pint down to keep the first company, before deciding to walk the mile or so to another fine pub, The Prospect of Whitby, also Thameside, but much larger

Down cobbled streets lines with former warehouses now converted to flats costing a million or more, or available to rent for two grand or so a month, always with the river on our left, though just out of view.

We arrived at the pub and were told to take a seat in the Smugglers Bar, we order lunch, a different burger each and yet another beer, and carryon chatting about life, the universe and everything. When the food came, quite quickly as the pub was so crowded, it was fresh and tasty.

Sadly, or perhaps for the best, Graham had to head home, and our fat little legs were aching, so we decided to travel back together to the nearby underground Overground station at Wapping, and head north, Graham to Liverpool Street, and us to St Pancras.

We had a twenty minute wait for a train to Ashford, but it arrived as we got onto the platform, so got seats and because of the thrill of it all, were both soon snoozing as the train filled up.

It was standing room only, but most were laughing and joking or talking, as we whizzed through the dusk back into Kent.

At Ashford, as we got off, an urgent message that the connecting train to Dover was on platform 2, and was soon to depart, so we had to dash down the steps to the underpass, along and then up more steps, just reaching the train as the doors closed and holding them back for Jools, we got on.

Phew.

And, if anything, this train was fuller than the high speed one, so we stood to Sandling, where a lady got off so we could take her seat for the trip though to Folkestone and Dover.

I should mention too, the big match. Through the early afternoon, when we had met Graham, the kick off in the "Old Farm" derby between Ipswich and Norwich, after a break of four and a half years, hostilities were resumed.

Never a game of good humour, some trouble marred the pre-game, but by all accounts, a rollicking game, which ended 2-2 after Town took the lead, City levelled and then took the lead through Rowe, before Town pulled level again and wasted a golden chance to win it at the death. With Town in 2nd, as us in 15th, to be honest, I'd have taken a draw.

Back in Dover, the car was outside the station, so we drove home, back past the port and up Jubilee Way, along the Deal Road and to home, where all four cats made little fuss of our return, having ignored to piles of kibbles left round the house for them in case we were any later.

We had a coffee, took off our shoes and breathed a sigh of relief to be home, away from people. And on the wireless, Craig played funk and soul until we gave in to tiredness and went to bed at just gone eight.