Saturday 26th October 2024

As stated in yesterday's post, on Saturday we had a guest staying over.

Before then, there was coffee, hunting and gathering at Tesco in Whitfield, then some last minute tidying up of the house, so it wouldn't look too shabby when Jill arrived.

Jill was the wife of a guy I served with in the RAF, he passed away few years back, and we met back up with Jill and her daughter at the funeral. And we have been in contact since.

After some hard times, she is now very much on the up, so a weekend at Chez Jelltex was arranged, with Jill due to arrive at about ten.

Sadly, the weather had other ideas and was going to me mild, grey and drizzly, so until it cleared somewhat, there were endless brews and chats about what has happened in the six years since the funeral.

By about eleven, the drizzle had cleared, and so next came the decision as to where to go. Sandwich won out as it would be less busy than Canterbury, but more to see than in Deal.

So, off we went.

A quick blast up the Sandwich Road, into the town and parked behind the Guildhall. First shock was that the stinky cheese shop, No Name Shop, is currently closed because of some fault with the shop. So that saved us at least thirty quid.

We walk on to St Peter's, to window shop in the indoor market. Lots of stuff to see in the old church, even some details, but we bought nothing, and walked on.

Along the alleyways to The Strand along to look at The Barbican, the old tollhouse next to the bridge into town. A walk along to snap The Fisher Gate, before doubling back to The Crispin for lunch.

A few weeks back, I was watching a TV cooking or food show, and the American host was touring UK and called into Sandwich to eat a sandwich in Sandwich. He ate at the Crispin where they serve the Earl of Sandwich sandwich: pulled brisket, mac and cheese, pickles, salad and fries.

Which I ordered. Jools and Jill had the vegetable tart, and to finish it off, I ordered a pint of Harvey's Best.

The pub is an ancient coaching in, all crooked timers, open fires and character you just can't fake.

The food came, and although the sandwich was too big to bite, was pretty good and the flavours did go well together.

Back outside and along The Strand to St Mary's, where there was an art show on. One picture took my fancy, but we didn't buy. The old church is looking good, I have to say.

So, at two, back tot he car and back to St Maggies via Deal where there were n parking spaces, so we drive on and go down to the Bay, where there are spaces, and the slate black sky was reflected in the near waveless Cannel waters lapping at the beach.

I listen to some football as Jools and Jill go for a walk, then back home for brews, and me to prepared dinner.

I had defrosted the hunk of côte de boeuf, oiled and seasoned it. So, oiled the potatoes, but then spuds in red hot duck fat, then sear the meat and cook for 35 minutes before boiling the vegetables.

Just after seven we sit down to eat, and mighty fine it was too. And not too much for once, which was more accident than by design.

We tidy up, make coffee and talk to half nine, but weary eyes, made worse by some Vin Santos meant we went to bed at half past, all ready to use the extra hour in bed the end of BST gifted us.