Some days start with snooze buttons. Others start with a 5K, a face full of fresh air, and the promise of porridge. Today was the latter. After ticking off my morning 5K run and refuelling with a bowl of berries and banana, it was time for part two of the ritual: Faversham market.

There’s something grounding about wandering a proper market. No plastic, no barcodes, just muddy eggs, handmade goods, and the faint hiss of espresso in the air. I came for the eggs and stayed for the atmosphere (and a decent cup of coffee that didn’t taste like it had been drained from a Peugeot sump).

Now, I know what they meant… a raised pedestrian crossing for traffic calming. But come on, surely someone in highways has a sense of humour? Either that or we’ve got one very tired zebra in urgent need of a cigarette.

Back to the market, eggs acquired, conversations had, and a wander through stalls bursting with character. It’s the sort of morning that reminds you: the good stuff is simple. A run, a brew, and a few eggs that didn’t come from a supermarket warehouse.

Sat by the window of a proper little café, I watched the world shuffle past. Builders, browsers, baristas in action. And me, quietly smug with my milky masterpiece, hot, smooth, and most importantly, not brewed in a Peugeot sump.

Following coffee, I meandered back round toward the Guildhall and onto Court Street, where the market was now in full swing. Mushroom stalls, artisan bakers, and cake vendors were doing a roaring trade under a sky so blue it looked like it had been photoshopped. A few pictures were in order—buildings bathed in light, stallholders mid-flow, and the sort of scenes that make you realise why people still love a proper market town.

From there, a quick stop at Tesco for a few essentials, plus a bottle of Badger Ales Fursty Ferret as a reward for later, when I’ll be admiring today’s haul of photos and, hopefully, feeling rather pleased with myself.

But the day isn’t over yet. This afternoon, I’m back in the skies, camera in hand, strapped into a Cessna, heading off to capture fresh aerial images over Ashford. So, into the car I go, back to base to prep for takeoff.

By the way, wondering why I mention coffee like sump oil? See my blog on the Paris Half Marathon and all will be revealed. I'm still mentally scarred two months later!

Until the next time then, TTFN.