Tuesday 17th March 2026

Tuesday.

And its back to the gym, and up at the crack of sparrahs so to be done so Jools can go to her class at half seven.

The alarm goes off at quarter past three, so quiet I could hardly hear it.

But I was expecting it.

And out of bed, wash and get dressed, drink coffee and out of the house by ten to six, arriving at the sports centre as the lycra clad hordes were being allowed in.

A minute or two later I follow them in, and up the stairs where I find both bikes empty. But I only need one. So with Jools's headphones I carry on listening to the podcast and begin peddalling.

It's a warm morning outside, and inside I am soon sweating, and not enjoying myself.

Some days time flies by, and on others it drags. This was one of the dragging days.

But I do my time, so can leave. Walking back to the car it was all of ten to seven.

Proper Spring had arrived. Clear blue skies, light southerly winds and warm temperatures. This'll bring on the spring flowers, I thought.

Still none of my favourites in flower when I check them once home after putting out the bird seed.

Jools had made me a brew before she left, so I drank that and was soon ready for a shower.

Exciting stuff!

Once dressed, back downstairs for breakfast and to check on the world.

Its still in one heck of a mess, and with the Orange Shitgibbon in charge in the US, not likely to get better any time soon.

Jools comes back at half eleven.

Hungry, she says.

Shall we go out, I says?

Fish and chips?

Yes, fish and chips.

So into the car and out onto the Deal road, into Walmer and to Deal, where we nab the last parking space, walk up the narrow passageway to The Strand, along and into the chippy.

We take a table in the back room, order scampi for Jools and skate wing for me. And then wait, people watching out of the window onto the side street.

The food came, piping hot, straight out of the fryer, and then straight into my mouth.

Yummy.

Once we had eaten our fill, there was just time to take shots of the beach and pier before getting back to the car and driving to Jen's, as she is having Australian visa issues.

Once in Whitfield, we get the story, in that she is dealing with a third party who are trying to force her into applying for a visa straight away, so they can get their thirty pieces of silver no doubt.

So, instead I go to the Australian Government's website, get better info, and all is peaceful. The agency are put on the blocked calls list, and we all have a brew.

Back home through the school run, with idiots in their Chelsea Tractors parking on the narrow estate roads, blocking other traffic, parking on junctions and being dicks.

Two can play at that game. No, I will not drive on the pavement to allow the woman who did not wait to get by.

It all gets sorted and we're back home in St Maggies, where two hours early, the cats claim its dinner time.

I watch more Mannerism in the Sky catch up thing, and Scully settles down beside me to sleep, not that hungry after all.

As always, the day ends with football: one the radio and on the TV, Citeh and Chelsea do dreadfully, apt for two dreadful clubs, and so are out of Europe.