Sunday 21st May 2017

It would be fair to say that we were tired after our trip up on Friday/Saturday, mainly due to the poor night’s sleep we had on the train. As an experience, it was worth doing, and to wake up in Scotland. But on the downside, the carriages are ancient, there was no ventilation in the cabins, the bottom sheets did not stay on the mattresses, but top of the list was the lack of room.

I don’t want to sound like I moan all the time, but two adults with a week’s luggage does not fit into the cabin well. Anyway, the reason I say this was that it was agreed that we take things easy on Sunday, hang around the house, some gentle walking, and me listening to the final day of the Premier League season. Oh, and read my new book. Yes, I am reading again, and as if by magic David Hepworth has a new one out for our holiday, it arrived the day Jools left home on Friday.

But we got up at six, a cuckoo was singing in the trees behind the house, but if I am being accurate, it should be called a cuck, as it had lost its oo. Anyway, he seemed at home on Skye, as do we.

Jools and I take ourselves to the top of the steep lane we are staying on, looking at the mix of traditional and new build houses, all overlooking the sound in a natural amphitheatre. We marvel at the abundance of wild flowers, all growing out of a stone wall, so overgrown it was mostly plants and very little wall.

Once home, and it being a Sunday, it was time to introduce Tony to the bacon buttie. I had bought some hickory smoked rashers the day before, and soon they were grilling well and filling the house with fine smells. Jools and I have brews, and Tony has some juice, he is a non tea and coffee drinker, so fails to have the full British breakfast experience.

THat morning, Tony goes out to walk and explore, as there is an old castle at the bottom of the road. I know, how wonderful does that sound, anyway, Jools and I stay home to read, and she suggests I light the fire in the living room.

This I do, and soon we have a roaring fire, burning away, warming the room and filling the house with a faint smell of wood.

We have pizza and beer/cider for lunch, once Tony returns, and soon after taking my place on the sofa afterwards, I feel my eyes begin to drop. I fight sleep for an hour, but Jools gives in and goes for a lie down.

THe football was OK, but I am glad the season is coming to an end, as it was a bright afternoon and we really should have gone out. Anyway. Always tomorrow.

More pizza for dinner, and more reading. And looking out of the living room window at darkness creeping over the sound, and the bright lights of Mallaig harbour twinkling in the distance.

Another day done.

Saturday 20th May 2017

The day almost ended in disaster before it had really begun. We booked the train tickets many months ago, but as time went on we found it was going to be difficult to hire a car and travel back home, so instead of traveling to the end of the line at Fort William, we would get off in Glasgow and get a taxi to the airport. We tried to change our official tickets, but couldn’t, so on getting on the train, we well th hostess, she makes notes and tell us that her successor would wake us up at half five with breakfast so we would be ready to get off the train at six.

It all seemed set, so we went to bed thinking it was all under control. And as the journey went on through the night, I felt for movement of the train wondering where in Britain we might be depending on whether I could feel movement or not.

I must have laid in bed for a while, wondering still where and when we were. I finally looked at the screen on my mobile to find it quarter to six! Eeek!

We had 15 minutes to get dressed and squeeze or cases close and be ready to get off. We rang for the assistant, who apologised, and it wasn’t her fault either. But we were running behind time, so we had half an hour before we got off.

The train crept through Glasgow and then headed out fo the city west alongside the river. At twenty past, we arrived at Dalmuir, heavy drizzle was falling, and as we got off the train, no taxi could be seen.

I called up the company, and they sent a cab to pick us up, arriving a few minutes later, loading our luggage inot the boot, then growling at us as to where we wanted to go, and apparently unimpressed that we had come all the way from DOver to be here.

He took no time taking us through the housing estate, onto the motorway then across the bridge over the river, turning off and arriving at the airport.

From being in a panic an hour before, we were now on time, and once at the car hire office found it to open, some 15 minutes early. We are told that no signatures were required, the keys were ready to pick up from Omar in the office in the pound.

Omar gives me the key to an Audi A4, which is a great and quick car. We put in our bags, and find that the car was already pretty much full, and we had to pick up Tiny who had stayed on the train from Fort William.

Amazingly, we were on the road at seven, driving back to the river crossing then taking the road north. Always north from now.

We go into the centre of Dumbarton to look for a place to do some shopping. We find Morrison’s, and go inside, only to find the shop almost empty, at least with more staff than customers. Back home this would already be packed with people. We go round and buy what we think we would need for the three of us.

Back out onto the main road, we descend to the banks of Loch Lomond, taking the low road as it followed the contours of the Loch. We stop at a country park overlooking the loch, not a breath of wind stirred with water below, so we ate sausage rolls surround by a cloud of midges.

The road carried on, all around the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond before the road began to climb and climb, higher and higher until the trees ran out, and on both sides the vista opened out.

We stop at a greasy spoon for a coffee and Tunnock’s Caramel slice at a parking area overlooking the valley below as it began to climb again.

Up and down the road goes, and up again until we come to the top end of Glencoe, and in front of us the vista opens out with dark ominous clouds above and valley sides that had been carved by glaciers

At the far end of the valley, the road had reached sea level, and in a few more minutes we roll into Fort William, where Tony was waiting at the station, having arrived just a few minutes ahead of us.

From there the road branched out along a sea loch, alongside the railway which also was going to Mallaig. The sea loch opened out so we could see open ocean in the distance, we join other cars in parking up beside the coast so we could all take shots.

Sadly, parking at Glenfinnan was full, but we shall return at some point. Anyway, we only had half an hour to go before we arrived at Mallaig and the ferry terminal. Sadly, we had failed to book passage beforehand, and so had to buy a standby ticket, but we were told there would be no trouble getting on as we were the first in the reserve queue.

We had an hour to kill before the boarding began, so we go for a wander round the town. Mallaig exists for fishing and being the starting point of the Skye ferry. The railway line also ends here, but the town itself probably has less than 1o thousand people, but it picturesque enough, set around the harbour, filled wit small fishing boats.

Jools and I have lunch in the Mission Cafe, while Tony goes for an hour walk being measured on Strava.

At one everyone goes back to their cars and boarding begins. Once all the booked cars and buses go on, we are allowed to follow onto the ferry.

We get out of the car and climb to the passenger decks above, until I get to the open dicks ready to witness the casting off.

By now the day was bright, so sunshine shone off the heather on the hills of the mainline and on the island. The crossing took just half an hour, the ferry reversed into the berth and we were allowed back to our cars ready to depart.

The cottage was just a four mile drive along the coast, turning up the hill and into the driveway. Here at last.

It is a fine modern bungalow with a large picture window overlooking the sound and the mainland beyond. We unload the car of our luggage and shopping, and fill up wardrobes and cupboards, finally able t put the kettle on for a well-deserved brew.

We had forgotten to bring coffee for Jools, so Tony and I go out in the car to find a shop. Over the other side of the island we find a Co-Op, it is well stocked and we find coffee, more Coke and beer for me.

We fly back over to the cottage, over the moor along a newly tarmaced road, traveling at a little over the limit, arriving back so I could make a coffee for Jools.

We sit in the living room, not watching TV, but the scene out of the large window, as the setting sun cast wonderful light on the sound and hills beyond. Dinner was a simple pasta dish with tomato sauce, into which I put some square sausage to added flavour. Local flavour.

And that was your day, arrived and settled in.

Thursday 19th May 2017

If all went well, we would end the day sleeping on an actual train heading to Scotland. Yer actual Scotland.

I wake up at seven after what can only be described as a great night’s sleep. Probably thanks to the use of ear plugs. Tony on the other hand was rather to comment on his sleep, maybe too polite to speak about my snoring one would imagine.

I had thoughtfully booked breakfast in with the price of the room, so we were able to go don to the ground floor, and have our fill of fruit, cereal, sausage, bacon, eggs, hash browns, fried bread, toast and a pot of tea. All for a few quid.

So, full of cheap but good food, we could now take our cases to Euston and despit them at left luggage. In order to do this, it was so much easier to get a taxi instead of taking the tube, and I hoped Tony might get ideas of places he might like to visit. However, once having crossed Waterloo Bridge, on the north side enter a twisting tunnel taking us under the City, and not passing anywhere there or Westminster, Whitehall or Buck House.

Anyway, I had ideas.

At Euston we find the left luggage place, and they relieve us of £36 for our three bags, but from then on we could travel light. And travel to Liverpool Street for the start of the wanderings round the City and beyond.

Rush hour was over, so we got on a District Line train for the ten minute ride east. Liverpool Street, like all termini was packed, people coming or going, or some other state between the two. We have to make our way to Bishopsgate, one of the main streets into The City.

Everywhere was crowded, and everyone was in a hurry, except for we two travellers, walking the streets from highlight to highlight, passing by (though maybe not in this order): St Ethelburga’s, St Helen’s. The Gherkin, St Andrew Undercroft, St Peter upon Cornhill, Leadenhall market, Lloyds, The Cheesegrater, Willis, The Bank of England, Mansion House. Stopping off for a coffee and a Bakewell Slice.

Fe found ourselves at Lower Thames Street, as Tony had wanted to recreate a shot he took in 1989 when we was last here, of HMS Belfast and Tower Bridge beyond. I took him to St Magnus to see a model of Old London Bridge, then back out, past The Monument to stand on the new London Bridge so he could take his shot.

He then left me to walk to Tower Bridge past the battleship and City Hall across Tower Bridge, past The Tower of London and back. I take myself to a pub the other side of London Bridge and have a pint of beer.

An hour passes and I go to meet Tony down by the landing stage of one of the Clippers, but the plan changed again and we decide to cross back over the other side to walk the north bank, and then to The Black Friar where we hoped Jools was going to meet us.

As it turned out, the walk took less time than thought, and as we walked back along Lower Thames Street, I see a sign advertising a pub with riverside views, I though this seemed ideal place for lunch and more beer.

We get a table looking out a picture window, the other side of which were a line of dirty tabbers puffing away. We stay inside and feast on nachos; a huge bowl for eight quid, which seemed a bargain.

From there it was ten more minutes to the Black Friar, where I treat myself to a pint of Timothy Taylor Dark Mild, and we wait for Jools some more. She had texted to say she had deposited the cats OK, and was on her way up, but since then I had heard nothing.

I made the pint last an hour, sitting in what was now nearly warm sunshine, watching the City Workers come for a refreshing beer before their journey home. We only had to walk to Blackfriars to catch a Crossrail service to Kings Cross, then once back at ground level, I showed him the splendours of St Pancras station. By which time Jools had called and we arranged to meet at Euston, so we walked past the British Library to the station, meeting up with Jools as planned outside a diner, where we planned to have dinner.

We have dinner; something called chicken tenders, waffle fries and a coke. We manage to make this simple meal last an hour, and even then we still had 90 minutes before we could even think about getting our bags back. So, we stand outside watching people go by, doing what we were doing; waiting: the sad young woman, the lady with two dogs in a shopping bag, two cyclists, goths and assorted people, eating, drinking and waiting.

At eight we get our cases, then to go wait some more on the concourse, looking at the destination boards telling us which platform our train was waiting at. At half past, platform 1 is announced, and so we wander across the station, down the slope and after showing our tickets to the guard, directed to the far end of the platform, just behind the locomotive.

Once at the carriage, we were shown to our cabin, which, and I wish I took shots of it to prove this account, but only about four feet wide, with two bunks,, a sink, but into which we had to fit along with all our luggage. It was a tight squeeze, and once Jools was in the top bunk, we really could not get back out. But we would go back to sleep on the outskirts of London and wake up in bonnie Scotland.

The train moved off, and soon was powering through the northern suburbs and into the home counties. The adventure had really begun.

Thursday 18th May 2017

The pause before the storm, the excitement of heading north for our holiday, with Tony from NZ. Plans for the first part of the trip, two days and a night in London, change, change and revert back to the original. But an early start, catching a train with commuters at six seemed a step too far. We could catch a later train for less than half the price of a rush hour service, get a taxi into town for a tenner, and still have half a day or more to wander round London.

It also meant not packing Thursday evening, and traveling when we were good and ready, just like a holiday should. So, after the usual Thursday chores; bins, putting them out, getting them back when they had been emptied.

Packing was done, cases forced closed, and we were ready. I arranged the cab to come at quarter past eleven so we could get on the quarter to twelve train.

The taxi driver had visited NZ previously, so he chatted with Tony while I looked out the window, I still love just to stare at the countryside, even familiar passing by the car window.

We arrived at Priory station with enough time to get something t eat, and for Tony another British institution: a Cornish Pasty.

The train arrives and we get seats around the table, looking out of the window, and I hope giving Tony a commentary on what was passing by the train. I mean you knwo the route by now by my words, but Tony saw these with his own eyes, whether he was impressed is another matter however.

We get off at Stratford, walk to the DLR for the ride to Stratford station, so he could see the remainder of the Olympic village, now mostly housing, but some of the venues are still there.

We go on the Jubilee Line, getting a near empty carriage with room for us to sit with our cases. As the journey continues, more people get on and seats and space taken up, after Canning Town the line goes underground, and after that stations are a succession of brightly lit areas with long dark tunnels between.

We get off at Waterloo, and into the hustle and bustle of one of the world’s great cities, up two sets of escalators, cross the street and then into the hushed world of the UJC, which was full of ex=Guards Officers in blaizers and their wives wearing ridicullus fascinators on their heads, en route to some event attended by a minor member of royalty. I imagine.

THe room wasn’t ready, but we were able to leave our cases there, and go out with just our camera equipment as Tony had booked tickets to ride the London Eye. It was just a short walk through residential streets, past the soon-to-be demolished ITV studios and onto the South Bank, past a series of restaurants and bars. I let Tony ride it alone, I sat on a low wall watching people from around the world wander by, and a series of street performers set up and do their thing, dazzling passers-by, then asking for cash to make it pay.

Time flew by, Tony came back having ridden the Eye, got his shots. And with the rain falling we walk back towards the club, stopping off at a cafe in the National Theatre for a snack and drink, while outside a real rain began to fall..

Having drunk pale ales and eaten chips with mayo, we walk back to the club, check in and get the key to the room. Outside we had a great view of Waterloo East, so I was happy enough watching trains come and go, people piling off each train, then filling the platform with a mass of humanity.

The rain showed no sign of stopping, so we had to decide whether to eat in the club, or go out. Despite the food in the club being good and great value, this is a fine city to wander round, even in the rain, so we put on coats and walk back to the station and go back to the Jubilee platforms for a train east to London Bridge.

It was half five and the peak of rush hour; we had to wait for three trains to come and go before we squeezed on one for the two stops, but Tony was happy in getting the full “commuter experience”.

It was still pouring with rain back at ground level, so we rush to the entrance to The Shard, go in and paying thirty quid each, are able to board the first of the two express elevator lift up the the 69th floor. Up two more floors by old fashioned stairs, we come to the upper observation deck, with rain falling in. Although there was glass to look through, it was coated with raindrops making photography challenging.

But I take shots on all sides, more than once. Tony even buys me a coffee from what must be the highest coffee shop in London.

Back on the ground, the streets are almost deserted, and have a Victorian feel to them, especially once we get to Clink Street with the rain glistening on the cobbles. It was even possible to take shots.

But we were hungry, and I wasn’t in mood to look endlessly, so the first burger place that had seats we went into. Burger, fries, beer and also being inside means that it ticked all the boxes we needed.

After eating, we were able to walk along the South Bank, with fine views over the river to the City, all lit up likes a huge Christmas tree, looking very much like an electric city.

Just past the Oxo building, we find a man trying to get one of his dogs to obey him, but who would rather chase a friendly fox round and round the area of grass. The owner’s shouting was attracting quite an audience, but neither the fox or dog took any notice, as they were having much fun.

We arrive back at the club, find the bar full of people and the air thick with the sound of dozens of conversations. We go up to the room to dry out, Tony upload shots to various social media platforms, and me to watch the trains come and go in the rain outside.

Wednesday 17th May 2017

I am writing this on Wednesday evening. Outside it is pouring with rain, and in the living room Tony is trying to rent a car for two more weeks in Scotland once out stay at the cottage is over. This is my last night at home for nine days, as tomorrow Tony and I are staying in London, and then on Friday we are sleeping on a train before arriving on Scotland and making our way to the cottage on Skye.

It is the end of another fine spring day here in east Kent, we have done some great things, details of which to follow.

Asking Tony what he might like to do, he said he would like to go to Dover Castle, and as it several years since I went, seemed like a mighty fine idea to me. And with an opening time of ten, it meant a slow start to the day before the short drive into town to the entrance.

As we have breakfast, and Tony hangs the clothes out to dry and I make pasta salad for dinner, the clouds begin to clear and weak sunshine begins to break through. The cats have made themselves scarce, so it is quiet in the house, except for the sound of fingers banging on keyboards as we both upload shots to various social media sites.

So, at ten to ten we set off, driving to the Duke of Yorks then along to the castle, joining the short line of cars waiting to enter, then the set of lights that allowed four cars a time to cross the drawbridge. We drive over and round two hairpin bends to the car park. It is now a glorious day, twenty five degrees and with barely a cloud in the sky.

We go to the entrance, I get to go in free as I'm a member of English Heritage, Tony has to pay, and they offer him extended membership for a month, which he refuses. But then they do this to every visitor, I knw that as the day goes on I will hear their patter, all said with a smile.

Tiny and I split up, as I have a list of things to snap, most important is St Mary in Castro and the Roman lighthouse next door. I climb up the steep path through an ancient gateway, taking the path that continues to climb until I come huffing and puffing to the church door. It is open, and I am first one here, so I can go round getting the shots I want, detailing the mosaics on the wall, and great details.

More people come in, but I am done, so I can leave and get out back into the sunshine, so I can walk along the upper battlement walls, to get the views over to the National Trust place, and Reach Road. I was alone up there, and was wonderful, but I could hear the noise of a group of schoolchildren approaching behind me, so I keep ahead of them and make my way down to the Admiral Ramsey statue, where i can sit on a picnic bench and look out over the great views of the town and promenade.

I walk up to the great tower, to take more shots inside, making for the spiral staircase that I san snap with the wide angle lens. The King's chambers are dark, but I take shots and they come out fine, or as much as I can tell in reviewing them.

I take refuge in the cafe, and have a bottle of old fashioned lemonade and a muffin, joining people only a few years older than me who are complaining about the tea.

Back outside, French students are shouting down insults from the top of the keep, and an American makes a Holy Grail reference, so I mutter, and your Mother smelt of elderberries, which he laughed at.

It was midday, and I had an hour to kill before Tony was due to meet me back at the car, so I sit near the entrance and watch people come and go, and the staff sell them enhanced memberships.

Tony arrives dead on time, but it turns out he spent most of his time queuing for the tunnel tours, and had seen nothing of the keep or tower. I felt bad.

We go back home for lunch of fruit smoothie and to check our shots. And then we go out to Deal for an encore visit to the narrow lanes leading off Middle Street.But before then we go for a walk along the pier, and I insist we get an ice cream for that whole "British seaside experience". Only, instead of Mr Whippy, we have handmade artisan ice cream in waffle cones. THen we can walk along the pier, taking in the fine afternoon, and hardly a breeze to ruffle out hair. At the end, Tny walks round the cafe twice, so to confuse his online keep fit tracker.

We back to shore, then to Middle Street walking along so Tony can take some snaps.

Finally we walk down to where the fishing boats had been dragged onto shore, and now wildflowers grow between the machinery, and yet this is still a working, well, harbour. I sit and do some more people watching, especially the road rage of someone driving the wrong way up a one way street, and swearing long and loudly whenever anyone tells the young lady what she was doing was wrong.

The walk over, we go home and I make plans with Jools to drop the hire car off, and her pick me up to take me home.

These salad days are coming to an end, and tomorrow we head to the bright lights and hard streets of London town. Tony helps me egg and breadcrumb the sliced aubergine, then I shallow fry them, so by seven we have a fine feast, along with several bottles of silly strong Belgian beer. As is the way.

And Tony is still trying to hire the car, and has now resorted to phoning up.

News when we get it.

Tuesday 16th May 2017

Time is already running out this week, as on Thursday Tony and I are planning to go to London for two days, and then on Friday we catch the sleeper train north. Trying to pack everything in that can be seen in Kent is impossible, we do what we can to make Tony's visit as memorable as possible.

On MOnday, Tony had said he knew of Dungeness, and with the weather taking a turn for the better, it seemed a good idea to go there first. Not much I can say about Dungeness, the UK's only official desert, a collection of old fisherman's shacks now converted to homes and an artist's commune, all in the shadow of two nuclear power stations, and a miniature steam railway.

We are allowed a slow start, taking time for breakfast, a shower and collecting our gear for the day. Jools had already gone to work, so by the time we left the morning rush had ended, so we could make our way down the Alkham Valley road to Folkestone, then up the motorway to Hythe before taking the coast road to Dymchurch, New Romney and to Dungeness. It is maybe a year since I last went this way, and new houses have sprung up in places, but the views over the marsh as the ground opens up look the same.

Once we go through Lydd, we take the road over the gravel dunes, past the nature reserves and entrance to the power stations and finally turning onto the Dungeness estate road. To the right at the wooden shacks/houses, and the left, a wide expanse of shingle leading to the fishing boats that had been dragged out of the sea, and all were surrounded by old fishing gear. And towering over it all is the menacing shape of the power stations.

I drop Tony off so he can take shots, I drive on and find a parking bay, so I can wander about too. The clouds had cleared and the sun came out, so it felt like summer, even on what is usually such a windswept place.

An hour or so later, Tony joins me, we go to the railway station for a brew and use their facilities, the first train of the day rumbles in. Sadly its a diesel, but I did expect that.

OK, time to move on: Tony likes to see my shots of the woodland walks we take en route to look at some orchids, so the plan was to visit such a place in the afternoon, maybe see some bluebells, then walk on so I could snap orchids and The Duke.

We take the coast road down through Littlestone and Greatstone before getting back on the main road to Hythe, and from there we go to the junction with the motorway but head north up Stone Street and into orchid country.

With the bad news about the chippy burning down, we had decided to find a place that did fish and chips for lunch, and up on Stone Street there are two good pubs, but as it happened the Chequers won out because of the quality of their beer. There was only another couple of groups in, but they all chose to sit inside, we ordered our meal and drinks then went into the beer garden, sitting down at a picnic table to wait for the food to arrive.

Two plates of fresh battered fish and handmade chips arrived, which we made disappear very quickly, followed soon after by a pint of Hophead ale too.

And from there, Denge is just a ten minute drive through Petham and then down narrow lanes to the parking area at the top of the woodland drive. Sadly the bluebells are almost all over, but there was enough to make a shot or two for Tony. But with the leaf canopy nearly complete, very little sunshine was making it through to the woodland floor to lit the bluebells, which is why they are fading fast; their time is past.

We meet another orchid fanatic on the walk down, and we exchange news about other sites and people who try our patience, to Tony he says it seems we were talking in code, but at the same time fascinating. But he might have just being kind.

We walk on to Bonsai, and take the circular path, and the Lady are at their peak, with hundreds if not thousands of spikes in the long grass and undergrowth. I was looking for very dark or very plale examples, and do find one or two very dark ones, and just as we were about to leave the site on the way back, three very pale ones, with white lips, but sand coloured hoods, not quite pure var. alba.

We could find no Dukes basking, it was too warm, but as we left the site, a single male settled in front of us, so Tiny can now say he saw one. Not that it would impress many people back home.

With the time now nearing three, and I had dinner to prepare and cook, we have to head home, taking the cross-country route from Whitfield getting home just before four. Unbeknown to Tony I had invited a fellow Flickr-contact for dinner, so I was making roast beef and all the usual trimmings for us all. And as you can tell, this would be warm work on such a hot afternoon.

Jools comes back at quarter to six, and Peter arrives just before half six, a surprise for Tony. But that means they can talk whilst I cook the vegetables, Yorkshire puddings and roast potatoes. All come together to be ready at seven.

Dinner is great, even if the chef says so himself, and we all clean our plates clean, which is a good sign I guess.

I was so hot, so we sit outside as dusk falls, Peter has to drive home before it gets dark, so Tony waves him goodbye, as the day fades to black.

Monday 15th May 2017

Back to work. Except for Jelltex, who has not only this week off, but next week too into the bank holiday weekend. Yipee

However, the much fabled lay in eluded me, and I was awake before six, waiting for the alarm to go off and Jools get up. I do lay in bed after a good stretch, I laze until I can smell the coffee brewing.

Poor JOols has to work, and poor Jelltex has to find things to do to fill the day ahead. Jools gets ready for her working day, and I drink my coffee, check the internet, and am disappointed once again to find that Trump had not either resigned or impeached overnight. I am sure if will happen one day mind.

Tony gets up at eight, and after breakfast of Bran Flakes and more coffee, and finally after two showers, one each, we are ready for the world.

Top of the list of things to see must be the white cliffs, and as the cliffs stretch along the east coast, why not go to the nearest ones at St Margaret's. And as the school run was over, it was simple to drive through the village, and then to the Monument.

After parking, we get out and find the weather is turning for the worse, and there is rain in the air, but dry enough for photography, at least a few sanps to say we had been there, and the look of horror on Tony's face as I stood on the edge of the cliff when he wanted to take my picture.

From there we take the short and winding road down into the Bay, but we don't stop as the parking attendants are about, and I have little change of the machine. I don't think either of us took a shot.

Anyway, onto the main event, shopping in downtown Dover, as Tony needed a few things. So, we crawl back up the Bay road in 2nd gear, then along Reach Road, looking at the fine views over the Channel to La Belle France in the distance. You could see it, but it was misty, so the cliffs were unclear. But then there would be other days.

Dover is, well, Dover. We park near the now-closed Co-Op, and walk to Sports Direct so Tony could buy some shoes and a coat. In a turn up, I also buy some trainers and a couple of walking trousers for the Scotland trip. As if walking trousers wasn't mad enough, they also sold golf trousers. I mean, who buys special trousers to play golf? Golfers, of course.

From there we go to Smiths to buy some stationary; don't ask. But then when you are on a holiday of a lifetime, you want to make notes as you go along to make sure no details don't get forgotten. That done, it is time for Tony to see some orchids.

It is just a short drive up the cliffs to Samphire Hoe, parking up, we find the cafe isn't open, so the cuppa and a cake plan we hatched was scuppered. That leaft us with the walk along beside the railway, looking for the last of the Early Spiders that are clinging on, and to my surprise I find a few, including a var. flavesens, but I don't take a shot, I mean, there's always next year isn't there? Yes, already making plans for next season!

We Find a couple to talk to; they are there because it is the wife's birthday, and they came over from Broadstairs for a walk in the drizzle, although they did not know that is what the weather was going to be like. We walk with them a bit, and chat, nice enough people for sure.

After walking back to the car, we talked about lunch, and I thought that me might try the cafe in Elham, something traditionally English.

The Elham Valley road was pretty busy, but we could find a place to park, only to find that it was closed on Monday. Bugger.

But in most villages there is always a pub, but in Elham there is two. One is a Shepherd Neame, which is OK, but the beer really isn't that good, not the pub's fault. But behind on the square in front of St Mary's Church is the King's Arms, a fine pub that does great food, and with just two other customers, we got served quick. And I ordered us both ham ploughman's to eat, as this must be a day full of the "British " experience. The meal came with fresh bread, pickles, salad and plenty of ham, as you would expect.

The last stop of the afternoon was Caesar's Camp, which overlooks the Channel Tunnel dept and terminal above Folkestone. And its a good walk too.

I take Crete Road up from Newington, which then steeply rises up the down, narrow and twisting with high banks on each side, until we come to the top, and the road then hugs the edge of the down, with spectacular views down onto the tracks far below. After parking on the road, we walk up the the iron age fort, until the view to the west opened up, and we could wee the tracks vanishing into the hill on which we stood.

Rain was still in the air, and it was none too pleasant, we waited for half an hour to see if a Eurostar would come thundering out of the tunnel, but it didn't, so we retrace our steps back to the car.

Tony wanted some more stuff for his trip, so that meant going to Tesco, and with the schools had just finished, that meant it was going to be interesting to say the least.

Getting a Sim Card for his phone with a data bundle, then getting the card fitted in his phone took half an hour, then came the search for old fashioned bars of soap. They don't sell much of them now, most is the liquid stuff, and most of what they do sell is the yucky coaltar stuff your Granny used to use.

Anyway, we get the stuff, pay for it and cam escape back home where there we three hungry cats waiting to be fed.

The plan for the evening was fish and chips, but the best restaurant in Deal burned down last week! I know, who'd have thunk it? Anyway, I look online and there is one on Middle Street which seems ok, so the plan is to go over when Jools comes back from work.

Deal is at least quiet in the evening, and parking is free, so we park up near the pier then walk though on of the narrow lanes to Middle Street only to find it closed. And much to our excitement there was a TV show being shot; the 3rd series of The Tunnel.

We wait for the scene to be shot, then we can walk past, looking at the crew looking at us as they get ready to reshoot the scene.

And then we find the chippy was closed on Monday!

Change of plan; curry!

After walking back to the car we drive into Walmer to the curry house on The Strand, which is where Jools and I have used in the past. here is just one other table taken, so after ordering drinks, we get papadums, and then wait for the main course to arrive.

The food was fine, service excellent as ever, but with each of us having one drink, we decide to call it a night and go home so we could sit outside, if it was warm enough.

Bats have emerged now, so as we sit in the shelter with the new solar powered lights twinkling above us, we watch the bats wheel and loop the loop as they chase insects.