These socks were knitted for Grace – to her design which included red soles – quite a challenge!
While we are on the subject of socks – I attacked the lone sock bag and gave up on this huge pile ever finding sole mates. (groan)
But if anyone finds a lone sock which looks like one of these – I would welcome the news.

To the Tower!

Many months ago I booked a night for £9 in a Travelodge sale in London – then forgot all about it and booked overtime for that day. The reformed Champs also had a practice in the morning – so I finished work at 1400 and went to West Malling to collect Phil. The council at Sevenoaks have discouraged train travel by imaginatively putting one hour parking restrictions in the middle of the day in every street around the station – so we had to park around a mile away. We got into Cannon Street and walked down to the Tower Travelodge – the website had warned that there may be some train noise – possibly because the windows looked straight out onto the platforms of the Docklands Light Railway.
We went out to the local Wetherspoons for dinner, forgot to take camera – but had to walk past the Tower to get there. Lovely sight.
I had vouchers to get into the tower the next day (thankyou Tesco!) so we didn’t have to go in through the Traitors Gate.

We spent a few hours wandering around – we had managed to visit inbetween exhibitions – but there were some fantastic re-enactors in the medieval palace – who showed us a map and told us travellers tales.
Remnants of the Roman Wall.
It started to snow – bet the soldier was wishing he had a desk job. Had a look at the crown jewels – but the most impressive was the winner of the Blue Peter prize.

We left and went for a walk around St Katherines Dock – freezing cold and deserted.
We carried on up Fleet Street and went into St Brides Church – known as the printers church.
There were more of the statues of children – but nothing to say where they had come from.

We found this very touching – no more printers in Fleet Street – let alone any who would be remembered in St Brides.

We walked on down to Charing Cross to meet our friend Di to take her to the annual Anglo Saxon winter dinner. I love meeting everyone again.

We went back on the train with Di to Sevenoaks and hitched a lift in her taxi back to the car.

Pulling the house down

It had come to the stage when whenever we closed the front door, a little cloud of plaster fell down. Then we noticed that the ceiling over the stairs down to the basement appeared to be held up by willpower, and after holding up part of it with duck tape, we gave in and pulled the lot down.

I was of course, using the ‘royal we’ – as Phil and Dan did all the hard work.

The egg has nothing to do with the destruction of the house. It is a small symbol of hope and renewal.