After a journey that should have taken 4 hours but lasted twice as long we had to admit defeat and change our plans. So instead of taking Ron to Whitstable to share a fish and chip supper and a fistful of childhood memories, we checked straight into the hotel that we’d booked way in advance.
It was the first night of our wedding holiday but the bed was supposed to be a place to lay our heads, not the start of our honeymoon.
Funny the things that life throws at you.
I’m not saying it was worth the 1 1/2 hour queue to cross the Thames, but it was the perfect setting for a self-portrait before a pint and a pub meal.