MONDAY, 14th August 2006 – home to Dover

We had planned it. We had planned it probably more than anything else in our lives recently. We had spent a little time online, finding the cheapest ferry crossing. No matter that we needed to get down to Dover the night before, and then get up at 3am to make sure we were on time for the 5am ferry - we HATE to be late for anything. At last, our holiday was here.

We left home mid-afternoon, and had an uneventful trip down to Dover.

Having parked up on the seafront (thanks for the tips, MHF members), we strolled into town, and found a pub which didn’t look like “The Slaughtered Lamb” from “American Werewolf in London”, nor looked like they would have to search high and low for anything that wasn’t an alcopop. A couple of pints and a large red wine, and we were peckish. Oh, how I wish we’d shared one packet of greasy fish and chip instead of having one each. Annie was sensible, and ditched a lot of hers in the bin. I was a pig, and ate all of mine. And it sat there on my stomach for the rest of the evening, a huge weight of congealed seagull dripping and reconstituted fast food potato.

I was a little bothered by a smell of gas in the wardrobe cupboard, and did lay awake some of the night wondering if I was still smelling gas, if it was getting worse, if it was my shoes I was smelling, and if we’d wake up in the morning, and if we didn’t, how many parking tickets we’d get before someone thought there might be something wrong.