Sunday Afternoon driver

Yes, for one day only, I became that oft despised pain in the arse, the Sunday Afternoon Driver. Albeit without the traditional flat cap commonly donned by the fifty something old fart poodling along the country lanes pointing out local beauty spots to his blue rinsed doddering old missus.

Now, Mrs K (who definitely does not have a blue rinse) and I decided to take advantage of that little yellow thing in the sky that threatened to shine on us all day. It didn't, but what the heck, we risked going out anyway.

Teneterden was our chosen destination. Driving through some of the more picturesque parts of Kent allowed Mrs. K to ooh and ahh at all the country houses that we would certainly buy upon winning the Lotto.

The sun still shone when we arrived, allowing us the opportunity to meander along the main drag nosing around the obligatory antique shops which regularly haunt these country towns.

After a while, a distinct rumbling noise was heard. Our stomachs were telling us to fill 'em up. Lunch was taken at the White Lion.

A nice pub with all the beams etc. And good grub too. Suitably refreshed,it was back in the car and off to Hastings. Big mistake. Upon arriving at the outskirts of town, we fell upon a long queue of like minded souls trying to get in. When we did eventually arrive on the sea front, we promptly kept on going. The sun had gone in and the wind had got up, so we headed back home. Lots more oohs and aahs from Mrs K.

At this time of the year, Kent really does live up to its name as the Garden of England.