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You can tell the power’s off when tea has to be made by boiling water on the hob. Yesterday’s disturbance obviously had more of an impact than we thought. There was still hot water for a shower, though, and after we’d got going, we called in at Galleywood for breakfast.

I’d wanted to explore the Essex countryside, as I’ve not seen much of it, and so teaming this with geocaching seemed the perfect way to go trekking in the wilds of the county.

We searched for two treasure hunts which looked like they would cut across the scenic rapeseed-filled fields, shallow valleys and churchyards, and headed out to Bird’s Green, chasing our first set of coordinates. The GPS device then took us walking through bright yellow fields - which contrasted perfectly against the perfect cloudless and blue sky - to a pretty and enchanting church, complete with ivy growing inside the walls.

A hunt around the churchyard yielded more clues, which in turn gave us more coordinates, and led us to the treasure stash. We decided not to take anything, simply recording our find, and reading what fun the treasure seekers had enjoyed on their way to finding the loot. Deciding to walk back to the car along the public footpaths, we found the real treasure of the day: a 1967 Ford Anglia Estate.

Forty years ago when it was new, it would have looked something like this. Launched in 1961 to accompany the Anglia 105E saloon, the Anglia Estate was also available in its sister car’s Standard or Deluxe trim. ‘Our’ car was the higher-specification version, and had previously enjoyed life in the capital; a detail which the London Zoo sticker in the rear windscreen was testament to.

The Deluxe model was certainly the Anglia to plump for back then. The extra outlay bought owners such fripperies as a full-width chrome grille up front, and a glove box lid inside, along with plusher interior trim. UK buyers were even treated to electric windscreen washers for the first time.

Replacing the Prefect, the Anglia range started at £589 in 1959, and its new 39bhp overhead valve four cylinder engine was reportedly very free-revving. A sales success, Ford sold over 1.3 million examples of its befinned and space age-styled small family car over the next eight years.

Looking for all the world like it had crash landed where the magic-making boy wizard and his pal Ron Weasley had left it from the scene in the Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets movie, I wouldn’t like to guess how long VRO 182E had sat unmolested in the Essex countryside. Very green from the moss and plants, it’s once bright sky blue paintwork sparkled through where it hadn’t been claimed by the trees.

Once we’d bagged a few pictures, we found our way back to the car, and drove to the next geocache starting point in Pleshey. Not as pretty as Bird’s Green in terms of countryside colour, the route was still enjoyable, the late afternoon sun warming us, and making us wish we’d left our coats in the car.

Walking through green fields, again using the public footpaths, and the Essex Way, the ending point’s sealed box proved more bountiful. We freed a plastic model from the Disney film ‘Cars’ which had been part of the treasure since September, so that my Camper Van model from the same series could have some company. We found this in a cache too (near Ipswich), in November.

Arriving home before the rest of the family, we set to preparing the meal for them. Agreeing to cook the previous week, tuna jalousie was on the menu tonight. An evening of game playing rounded off another enjoyable day nicely.

Back at the house, there was no kettle and no power. I hope it’s back on tomorrow.

The longest pleasure pier in the world, to be precise. And, it’s to be found in Southend.

I’d never been to the Essex coastal town before, and as the yesterday morning’s damp weather looked like it would break for the afternoon, we decided to head out in the car, risk a mild soaking, and try our luck.

Southend is actually not by the sea but all, but technically sits on the north bank of the Thames Estuary. With all the usual seaside town childhood memory charm of other similar resorts, it’s the pier that sets the coastal settlement apart.

Records suggest that there has been a structure on the site of the current walkway since 1830. A steamboat extension was built in 1897 to bring in more visitors, while in 1929 the Prince George extension brought the pier to its current 1.34 mile length.

It’s certainly a survivor. Four fires (1959, 1976, 1995, and 2005), a boat crash, and a veteran of two World Wars, the pier stands defiant. The Victorian entrance building is long gone though, and has been replaced with a modern glass structure, which dates from the last revamp in 2003.

Walking the pier is almost compulsory when visiting Southend, so we paid our 50p entry fees and began the stroll along the aged planks, taking in views of the pockets of blue skies when we could get them. Two fishing boats stranded among the sandbanks by the low tide - which later made silhouettes against the pier in the wintry sunshine - contrasted with the views back to the neon-lit shore and broke up the grey expanse of water, which lapped beneath us.

The undercover benches sheltered us from the biting cold, while the pier train rumbled past at well-distanced intervals, sending shuddery vibrations through the rotting wood. The promise of a sandwich and a warming cup of tea kept us going to the pier head, where we rang the large bell, and posed for pictures, wearing the bell as a hat.

A disappointing lack of refreshments saw us turn around and head back to the shore earlier than we’d planned though, and as we walked back past the half-mile markers, we really wished we hadn’t left our gloves, hats, and scarves in the car. A stop for photos on a sandy makeshift jetty on the seafront fulfilled our creative urges, the sky, sun, and silhouettes seemingly posing for the perfect picture in our viewfinders and lenses.

Cups of tea and cakes fuelled and warmed our bodies, before we then headed home, for games of backgammon and Newmarket. Delicious Shepherd’s Pie followed by lemon pudding rounded off the day, and provided me with sufficient feelings of fullness for my train ride back to Ipswich.

Pancake partying, and 1980s reminiscing (courtesy of some shocking home videos) had given us more weekend fun on Saturday.

It was all so very enjoyable, but today, I feel absolutely battered.