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A sad sight at Ashford International station. In a case of a sad self-perpetuating cycle, reduced train services at Ashford mean lower passenger volumes at Ashford – leading to fewer services at Ashford. The station was a ghost town. The newsagent was shut, the business class lounge was shut, and the security screeners had to be dragged away from their evening activity of “watching the city lights come on” to run our bags through the x-ray machine. In total, there were about 12 passengers who boarded the train at Ashford.

The deserted Eurostar terminal at Ashford International

The deserted Eurostar terminal at Ashford International

It’s not as bad as the new station at Ebbsfleet, though. What idiot designs a world-class international station, then neglects to open the domestic capacity for more than a year? That’s right – you can catch the fastest train to Paris from Ebbsfleet, but there’s absolutely no way to get to the station by rail until 2009. Only in Britain.

Daisy decided that she wanted to play last night, so into the stereo cabinet she went.

Daisy playing peekaboo

Daisy playing peekaboo

A very happy cat...

A very happy cat…

I hate New Years. I never really see the point in blowing a lot of money to celebrate a holiday that doesn’t really mean very much. So a quiet New Years Eve at home with Aude and Jerome was just what the doctor ordered. Although I suspect he wouldn’t have ordered quite so much foie gras and champagne.

Aude and Matt

Aude and Matt

Aude and Matt

Aude and Matt

Aude and Jerome

Aude and Jerome

After quite a good start to the new year, I was a little disappointed to discover that I’d accidentally locked the cats in the bedroom overnight (not helped by the fact that they knocked over a stack of papers and managed to jam the door shut). The result of this lock-in was a big pile of cat poo in the centre of the bathroom floor.

Not really an auspicious start to 2008, is it?

Better late than never, right? In a country where “London Underground minutes” are a time-keeping unit of their own and where our journeys are perpetually delayed on the M25, it’s only reasonable that Santa Claus would be held up in traffic. He came today, though, twice (via his helpers at the Royal Mail) with presents for me — some CDs from Aude and my shiny new Nikon lens from Germany.

We went out this afternoon to try the lens out, and my suspicions were confirmed. Santa Claus was indeed in Canterbury this afternoon — we spotted him in our local coffee shop, relaxing after what must have been a tiring few days…

Santa Claus

Santa Claus

Another evening of gluttony is over, although a malfunctioning oven meant that some last minute jiggery-pokery with the microwave was required to make sure that we all got fed (and the veggies were still a little on the ‘al dente’ side). Nevertheless, we managed to make a good dent into the roast beef and traditional trimmings.

Matthew presents the roast beef

Matthew presents the roast beef

Teaching Aude's parents how to play backgammon

Teaching Aude’s parents how to play backgammon. I promise I’m not making up the rules as I go along.

We woke up this morning to discover that the weather was warmer, the fog had finally lifted, and the sun was shining. Perfect weather for a Boxing Day walk along the beach. We jumped in the car and drove down to Deal for a few hours along the coast, then back to the house to pop the roast beef in the oven.

Boxing Day is a great invention. I wish we’d had it when I was a kid…

Aude by the seaside

Aude by the seaside

Aude and her mother

Aude and her mother

Perfect weather for a seaside walk

Perfect weather for a seaside walk

Matthew's hair is not designed to withstand a coastal wind

Matthew’s hair is not designed to withstand a coastal wind

Aude's father poses for a shot

Aude’s father poses for a shot

A quick shot with all the hair in place while the wind had died down...

A quick shot with all the hair in place while the wind had died down…

That's the Christmas spirit!

That’s the Christmas spirit!

Cheeky!

Cheeky!