Wednesday 8th February 2017

Day 2 of the great week off, and it seems the dull, cold and dreary weather is here for the rest of the week, with a few snow flurries on Friday night to look forward to.

Apart from being dressed earlier than I had been on Tuesday, the big plan for the day was to walk to Kingsdown and back to meet an old rambling friend to catch up. You see, my hectic international playboy lifestyle means that weekends at home slip through my fingers like greased spaghetti, and with all the best intentions since I last promised to meet up, several months have slipped by. But, I had not forgotten, and after an exchange of e mails, a venue and time was agreed, I just had to get myself down to the pub at the desired time.

Jools was up and about very early, and left me and the cats alone by seven, outside it was still dark. Daylight would take its time on such a gloomy day as this. But I put out the bird seed, make breakfast and listen to some radio, and the time flies by, until it is half ten and time to leave.

I put on my walking boots, pop my Razorbacks wooly hat one, add an extra layer of clothing, and set off, taking the less muddy route to the end of the street then turning down Station Road. I had done this to have a look at the house at the end, as by this time last year his daffodils had been in flower for six weeks. Not this year, many have buds, but some time from opening. However, just round the corner there was a cultivated primrose open, but I would find no wild ones open along the roads to Kingsdown.

Down at the bottom of the hill, the new house now has its foundation completed, so now ready for the walls to be built on the house replacing the old ruinous old cottage that used to be there.

I huff and puff my way up the hill the other side, I was doing OK, but my back was complaining already. I press on. At the corner of Kingsdown Road, the Red Lion seems to have been sold, and now waits its conversion to a house, so the village loses another pub.

Along the street to the edge of the village, most of the way being forced to walk on the road as people parked so to block the pavement. I take pictures planning to send them to the police of post online. But it is always this way.

From the edge of the village, it is mostly downhill all the way. My back settles down, and soon enough it doesn't hurt at all. Out of the village, past the new vineyard and past the scattered houses that are hidden from view along the road. Finally I come to the top of Norway Drove: i look down, it doesn't look too muddy, maybe I will go back that way after all. A quarter mile further on, the hill descending to Otty Bottom begins, normally I turn right here to the cliffs, but I thought that would be muddy, so decide to use the road instead.

The gate at the bottom has been replaced by two sturdy bollards, but I reckon a couple of lads could get a mini through the gap on one side, and be able to drive from Kingsdown to St Maggies. Maybe not.

The road levels out, and passes by more scattered large house, not many others around, so I am lost in my thoughts. Eventually, I come to the junction where the road from the golf club joins, and I have to take cover in puddles so not to be run over by some pringled Audi driving twat.

Around a bend and I can see the sea in front of me. From here it is a ten to fiteen minute walk, and I have an hour. So I can wander, or find a bench to sit on and ponder my existence.

It is cold on the bench. Even with my hat on, zip on my coat pulled up. I decide to go for a warming pint of chilled beer and wait for Rob inside. That seemed the sensible thing to do.

Rob arrives, and we both order scampi and chips, which is very good, the chips very good indeed. We chat and generally catch up on life. It has been too long for sure, and so we shall try to arrange more meets through the year, based on snapping stuff. Seems sensible.

At two, we are both done, and so is time to walk back. We shake hands and go separate ways. But right away my back is complaining, I mean really bad. It does sometimes, but this was bad. I push on, and straight away decode no to clamber up the cliff path, instead take the gentle path back to Otty Bottom and then home, the way I had come.

It was going OK until I came to the bottom of the climb, I say climb, its a gentle slope really, but I have to take regular stops as the muscles cramped up in my back. O do get to the top, and after a walk along the level, I turn to walk down the dip. And my back stops aching right away, even over the roughest of ground. But up the other side, it was really bad, but after stopping a few times, I go get to the top. This was now longer fun, I just wanted to get home and crash on the sofa.

I do make it back, arriving home after 90 minutes. Should have taken an hour. But could I take to the sofa? No, as the cats are meowing for an early dinner. To have some peace, I cave in, also make a coffee, and then I can take to the sofa. Aaaah, that's better. Of course, my legs tighten up to, and my back develops a a dull throbbing pain, but is not so bad. I ignore it, and so begin to prepare dinner. Just insalata caprese, I say just, its always great, and has the bonus of not taking long to prepare, and takes no cooking.

Jools comes home, I open beer and cider, and all is well with the world. I notice I am in good spirits now there is no work to worry about, well for a week.

There is football on in the evening, Leicester v Derby, a really local Derby. But, both teams make 18 changes between them, and is a mockery of the competition and TV viewers if I'm honest. It goes to extra time, but I am done. I tape the extra time and go to bed.

Tuesday 7th February 2017

It is odd, that even after several months since my last vacation, that sitting at home, doing nothing on either the internet or sitting in the back office, just reading, seems like playing hooky, and making me feel guilty for not working.

Although I have the day off, Jools has to go back to work. So that means the alarm going off at quarter to six, feed the cats, make coffee and the other stuff that makes up a morning. But without the pain of me actually working. Which is nice.

At seven, Jools leaves, and I have the day to myself. Sadly outside, mist and fog has rolled in, and both are mixed with drizzle, making it a most unpleasant morning. One for sitting at the computer editing shots, writing blogs and listening to the radio. And not getting dressed apparently.

THere are also cats to pet and serve, of course. Food not in quite the right place? Of course I will move it six inches. And so on. Sadly, cats don't get irony, they are probably laughing at what they have made their human do now!

I have lunch before eleven, then do get dressed, just in case someone knocks at the door.

In the afternoon, Molly and I take to the sofa to binge watch Time Team. She snuggles up beside me on the sofa, and is soon snoring as she lays gripping my jeans with her claws. I would have gotten up before, but did not want to disturb her, so find something else to watch.

Outside, the clouds had cleared, and some late afternoon sun was shining, but too late to do anything really. I tell myself I should go on the cross trainer where it will be warmer. I get ready and go up to find the i pod is flat, and so scrub the workout until the morning. I sit in the back office reading the new WSC in the late afternoon light. Over my shoulder outside, the setting sun turn the tree on the other side of the dip to gold. Mulder comes along, and is soon sitting on the back of the chair. THere is the feeling of movement, and he is gone. I thurn round and see he has jumped to the very top of the shelving until. He looks very happy with himself, but cannot get past the box with the scanner in, so just looks down wide eyed.

How are you going to get down from there? I say. I found out seconds later as he jumped back down to the back of the chair, and in the same movement is back down on the floor. He is looking pleased with himself and licks his paw in satisfaction. Now, about lunch he says.....

I feed the cats, then at five as darkness begins to fall outside, I start to peel the vegetables for dinner. I see outside the waxing moon is three quarter full again, so nearly ten days have passed since I last noticed it.

We have warmed up beef, from Sunday, but the rest is fresh, and is wonderful, as a midweek roast always is. It is Tony's birthday, so Jools goes round to drop a card off, and to arrange a meal out at the weekend. I'm not feeling to sociable, so stay behind, wash up and follow City's game on Twitter. It ends up a 2-2 draw, feels more like two points dropped than a point won to be honest.

Tomorrow, more interesting stuff planned. I hope.

Monday 6th February 2017

For the past three months there has been a large story building, but for various reasons, which might become clear, I have not mentioned it thus far.Some time before Christmas, a colleague posted a job add for a position within the company I work for, at a new site in East Sussex. I looked at the requirements and realised that Jools would be perfect for it, so I sent her the add, she agreed and applied. She got through the first part, had to complete an in-depth application, then wait. And more waiting.

Then, last week she was invited along for an interview on the 6th February. So, yesterday she took the day off work, went along to Newhaven in Sussex for a late afternoon interview, which seemed to go quite well. And now there is more waiting.

What I haven't said is that if she were to get it and accept, it would result in major changes to our lives; she would work one week off one week on, thus meaning I would only have to travel every other week, when she was at home. You quickly realise that we would not see so much of each other. But that is to deal with if she gets the job. Anyway, exciting times, and stay tuned for more details.

And Monday was my only working day of the week, due to me taking a delayed Christmas holiday, having "worked" all through the Festive and New Year period. So, ahead of me was a day through which I had to tie up all loose ends so to have a stress free break. The interview meant that Jools did not go to work, but went shopping early on to get a few bits and pieces we needed, before getting ready and setting off for Newhaven at half eleven.

Leaving me alone with the cats and work. I looked outside, the sun had broken through and it was going to be a fine afternoon, by the forecast the best weather all week, and I had to carry on and work. Bugger.

Meetings, find and file paperwork, with a final meeting with my boss to let him know all was under control, and that I had done my travel expenses. He was pleased.

But not as pleased as I was, goes without saying really.

So at four, I was done, switched the computer off, and after a deep sigh, went upstairs for a session on the cross-trainer, ignoring the mogs demands for an early dinner. In fact, Scully sat on guard in the doorway making sure I wasn't going to have a bowl of kitty kibbles with me. As I huffed and puffed to Train in Vain, White Man in Hammersmith Palais, she licked her bottom, and kept looking. After a poor 20 minutes, I stopped, took off my headphones, and she greeted me with a demanding meow.

So I did go down to feed them all, Mulder and Molly appeared from their sleeping places to announce that they will now accept food.

As the light fades, I go outside to check on the garden and to snap a few shots for the day of the bulbs and spring plants showing now a few inches above the ground.

After having a shower, I make dinner for myself, some Thai flavoured fishcakes that I got at the weekend, spicy cous cous and more sweetcorn with crispy bacon bits, now my favourite thing of the moment.

I get a call from Jools at half six to say she was now setting off, giving me just over two hours to wait for her return. Molly and I sit on the sofa to watch two episodes of Time Team. Jools arrives home just eight, we swap news and I listen to how the interview went. I also look at Newhaven on GSV, and I think it might be work investigating in the very near future, lots of interesting buildings and railways stuff I think.

We shall see.

Sunday 5th February 2017

Another weekend comes round, and apart from getting tipsy fart at the beer festival, and lazing around like and old foppish soak, I did very, very little. We did plan for much stuff on Sunday, but the promised sunshine failed to appear. Well, the bright spell got later and later, and by the time it did brighten up, I was cooking dinner.

So, did little, drunk another beer and shared a bottle of fizz with Jools, so when the football was on the radio, I fell asleep again. Situation normal.

We got up at about seven, made coffee, fed the cats, put bird seed out and then I sat down to watch football. Highlights of a very interesting day, if you like that short of thing, really. There are croissants for breakfast, more coffee, then I thought about what do with the rest of the day. It seemed we could bring dinner forward to about half three, so be hungry, then chill for the rest of the day.

Which we did.

Outside, it was cold, cloud swept in, and it tried to rain. I put the beef in the oven just before one, cooking it so it was nice and pink inside, if not rarer. I made Yorkshire Puddings, roast potatoes and steamed vegetables. It was splendid, even if the chef is saying so. Man, it went down well with a bottle of cheap fizz, we listened to Desert Island Discs, then both retired to the sofa to snooze.

Outside darkness fell, along with some rain. We watch a documentary on the so called Glorious Revolution.

Seems like I have one more day at work, then a whole week off, for my delayed Christmas Vacation.

Which would be nice.

We end the day sitting outside as Jools christens her new fire pit by burning something.

Saturday 4th February 2017

Way back in the mists of time, the young Jelltex could be up to the wee small hours, drinking and tripping the light fantastic. Come home, have 12 hours sleep and be ready to do it all again.

Not any more.

I have never had great capacity for booze, and since leaving the RAF, practice in drinking has slipped, so I will rarely have more than a single beer if out. So, a beer festival, an event that involves hour after hour of drinking, was never going to leave me in a good state. I snoozed, and went to bed early on Friday. Trish at The Rack was surprised how drunk I was after just a couple of hours of drinking, and was reluctant to fill m y glass with beer at 8.8%.

So, when I woke up at three in the morning, it became clear that what with one thing and another, I wasn't going to go back to sleep, so I tossed and turned, fretted about a possible allergy attack, staying in bed until half five, when the sound of the start of the dawn chorus told me it was OK to get up.

I walked downstairs with cats scattering in all directions before me. I feed them, then make a coffee. I try to be quiet, but it seems the aroma of brewing coffee can wake a sleeping person, and so she comes down, mumbling, mmmm, coffee.

Once we have drunk, I get dressed and go to Tesco nice and early, then drive over to Preston to the butcher, to get steak and a joint for Sunday dinner. The drive over to Preston, especially once off the Canterbury road was interesting, as overnight rain had left the road partially flooded, and dodging cars coming in the opposite direction was needed to avoid going through a puddle that could have been too deep and flooded the engine.

I get the meat, and a consignment of Tunnock's caramel fingers, which oddly they also sell. I could have gone with some teacakes too, but that would have been greedy.

I drive back home, unload the car, then decide that we should have a fry up for brunch; I have not made one for years. So, once home I boiled some potatoes until mushy, mash them with lots of butter, pop them in a frying pan until all brown and crispy. I grill lots of streaky bacon, fry spicy sausages and finally mix up and cook some scrambled eggs. Its gone eleven once done, but is glorious.

At half twelve, there is football on the radio, Chelsea v Arse, and Arse get steamrollered, losing 3-1. Not a good day at the office, and almost certainly means they won't win the title this year either.

I bring the digital radio down from the bedroom, set it up beside the sofa so I could watch the rugby whilst listening to the football on 5 Live. And it worked very well indeed. The first game, Scotland v Ireland was a cracker, Scotland running out deserved winners. The came England v France, an altogether different game, with two good teams going toe to toe grinding out the game; England winning by having scored one more penalty, not a pretty game, mind.

And Norwich won. Away. And kept a clean sheet and so are up to 7th.

I cook steak for dinner, us eating at nearly eight, but with fried potatoes, sweetcorn and bacon and field mushrooms, its a great meal, if a little late, but that was due to brunch also being late.

Phew.

I can then watch the Championship highlights as City won, taking us to ten, and bed time.

Friday 3rd February 2017

At one point, it seemed that we would have about half a dozen staying with us this weekend. But one by one, people dropped out until there was me left. And why was this important this weekend, I hear you ask. Well, beer festival time.

No other words needed.

And, all that I had to do was get through 5 hours of work first, and all would be fine.

I have some mails to write. Well, that's true for every day, isn't it? But, one by one I tick each item off the to do list, and by eleven, i was just clicking my heels. I book a taxi, then just wait for it to arrive.

It comes at five past twelve, and so I am driven into town in wonderful bright sunshine, dropping me off outside The Rack, where I had said I would be calling in to say hi the Trish.

She finished at half one the night before, but had the place looking spick and span and ready for another 13 or 14 hours serving.

I have a couple of halves, and chat to a couple from Essex, down for the festival. Its all rather nice and pleasant, and so much better than working.

At quarter to one, over to the Maison Dieu to queue up, waiting for the doors to open at one. Its a nice day for a change, and as usual, people come up to ask what we're standing in line for. They seem happy enough with our answer.

The doors open just before one, and so file through, then have to stand in line again to get our glasses and beer tokens, in exchange for money of course. I go straight for a pint of Plum Porter Grand Reserve, a smooth as you like porter, and strong at 6.7%. I have others, mostly Porter, but they blur into one after a while. At some point I go back to the Rack to wait for Jools, and there they had just tapped a barrel of beer at 8.8%. Did I want to try?

Oh dear.

Thankfully, Jools arrives before five to rescue me and take me home. She goes to the chippy, we eat, then I snooze on the sofa, waking up in time to see TOTP. At half eight, I am done. So we go to bed, I am soon snoring for England. And Wales. And Scotland.

This time its for real.

On Wednesday, the Government published what it said was its white paper of leaving the EU. The day before, 24 hours before the white paper was published the House of Commons voted in favour of the Governemtn in triggering Article 50.

Let that sink in for a while.

That the White Paper amounted to re-publishing the PM's speech from two weeks back and the rest a cross between a wish list and fairy tale. Our friends in the 4th estate thought it all fine and dandy. I won't pick it apart, as the time to do that has passed, as the vote was ayed.

The Government had since 24th of June last year to come up with the White Paper, that the time stamp on the PDF that was released showed it last updated at 04:23 that morning. This is last minute cramming for a maths test by a lazy student, escalated into Government policy that will affect us, our children and grandchildren for decades. The process of how Britain got into such a messed up position with neither the Governement or 4th estate admitting it is something that will be raked over for decades to come. On Tuesday, before the vote, MP after MP spoke up saying what a bad idea it all was, only to vote for the Government, not even Corbyn's opposition could be bothered to oppose.

The obvious question of Labour now, is what is it actually for if it won't fight for worker's and EU expat's rights? Just nod along? Then you have ceased to be relevant.

In the next week, various committees will discuss the bill, maybe try to get amendments added, but that will probably fail. In which case it seems to be the PM's intention to trigger Article 50 on the 8th March. As it stands, no one knows if it is reversible once triggered, it will be a plunge into the heart of the sun with no escape.

I hope I am wrong in thinking this is going to be nothing less than a disaster, part of me wants it to happens to see the chaos that is about to engulf the country. If they can't produce a white paper without the most basic of mistakes (it stated that after Brexit, Britain would have 16 weeks annual vacation), then what hope do we have in years of complicated, multilateral, simultaneous trade negotiations whilst trying to keep the economy from tanking. David Davis doesn't know what a non-tariff barrier is, maybe he will in two years time.

If our hope is a trade deal with Trump's America, then we really are screwed.