Wednesday 7th January 2026

It is the end of the first week of the year, and normality has returned.

Somewhat.

This retirement thing is still a bit of a novelty, like being able to take advantage of a sale for train tickets, which I have taken advantage of.

More of that in the upcoming weeks.

But normality, on Wednesdays, beings another class for Jools and bridge for me.

Things is with bridge, in the RAF we were all the same standard, and so bid pretty much the same way, reflecting our hands. The only convention we did follow was to open two clubs for a hand with over twenty points.

So, for the first meet of the year, the lesson was weak overcalls.

Which was very interesting, and the reason for it is to force the opposition into a higher contract than they would like.

But with so many conventions and opening bids, unless your partner knows what you do, it may all bring chaos.

But anyway, the hands were sorted so we could all experience making overcalls and seeing how well or how badly we would do.

Ten of us turned up, two didn't, meaning that we took turns in sitting out.

It was all enjoyable, and there was tea and refreshments as well as gossip. The two hours flow, and I bailed half an hour early as I was heading to Folkestone.

Jools had an appointment in Canterbury, so she was going on the bus, leaving me with a good two hours to do something.

Something involved a church.

I saw Ss, Mary and Eanswythe was open between eleven and one, so I would head over, and also try to arrange a visit for my churchcrawling group.

It was a bitterly cold, but gloriously sunny day, I drive back along the Deal Road, past St Maggies through Dover and out up the A20 to Folkestone.

Folkestone was pretty quiet. Lots of parking spaces, and some shops have given up opening some days of the week: Mondays and Tuesdays, and on other days have reduced hours.

So I walked up the Old High Street, where most places were closed, then up to the snicket to the church, past the woold shop, where I thought maybe I should buy Jools some wool.

But didn't.

The church was open, so I go in and was welcomed by a volunteer, Pam, who I struck up conversation with.

It would be a pleasure to have the group, so details were exchanged and hopefully we will go back next month.

I photograph the Victorian glass, some by Kempe were of a very high quality, but the Victorians were thorough in their renovation, and little of the church before the 19th century remains. But I spot some.

The church is bitterly cold, and this is having a detrimental effect on some of the Victorian wall paintings, one on the north wall of the tower had deteriorated badly in the last few weeks, as there appears to be a leak around an old blocked up window, and the water runs down through the mortar.

After an hour, I was done, so say thanks to the volunteers, and walk back to the car.

I was hungry, it was nearly one, and should I wait for Jools or get something?

In the end I called in at Little Farthingloe Farm Shop for a warm sausage roll, and as they looked delicious, a Viennese Whirl, half dipped in chocolate.

The sausage roll I ate standing in the car park, the whirl I ate once back home with a fresh brew, and was crumbly and delicious.

The evening was taken with football. I watched the first half of Palace v Villa, which promised much, but delivered nothing. So switched to the Burnley v Man Utd game at quarter past eight, and was better, ending 2-2. The Palace game ended 0-0, so I chose wisely.