16 August 2009 (Sunday) - "Skillful Navigation"

Having an early night last night was a good idea. I felt better this morning. Better as in “better”, rather than “better get a bucket”. The original plan for today had us travelling for a couple of hours to visit a campsite in west Sussex. But what with one thing and another we decided to put that on hold for a few weeks. Instead five of us (well, four and a half!) went down to Folkestone Warren. It could have been more, but emails didn’t arrive until too late. Oh well, there’s always next time.

Using “skilful navigation” we utterly failed to find the footbridge over the railway. Which was probably for the best. The idea was to walk along the countryside bits, then cross the railway and go up into Capel for a picnic and maybe even a crafty half (stranger things have happened). And then walk back again.

On reflection it’s probably as well we didn’t find the footbridge over the railway. Whilst the village of Capel is only one hundred yards north of that footbridge, it is some six hundred yards up. And that is an “up” which isn’t far from vertical. That’s quite a lot of “up”. We’ll save that for next time too. Have a look at the photos, and let me know if you’d be keen to join a mission going back to the warren in a few weeks’ time. I’m told there are fossils there…

On the way home we popped into FarmFoods for some shopping. I might have to go there more often. It’s far cheaper than Tesco’s, and doesn’t seem to attract the retard element. The fact that it doesn’t actually sell what I want to buy is neither here nor there. I shall just have to change my shopping preferences according to what FarmFoods have in stock. This might mean buying frozen carrots rather than socks, but it’s all in the interests of economy. After all, what I save on socks I can spend on beer.

And then an email from the arky-ologee club. They would seem to have dibs to dig at one of their standard sites from mid September through to next March. That’s six months worth. If they think I’m excavating that lot for them, they can go whistle.

I then printed off the latest letter to the chokey. This one is the thirtieth. He’s been in there for some time – thirty weeks (!). It can’t be that long until he’s released….

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