In preparation for the new bathroom, or bathroom 2.0 as we're not calling it, hem, we had to go and get some new fittings. And the ones we saw we liked were in Ikea. Ikea; a name to chill the heart. What can be so bad about a furniture store? Well, it's the pretension of it all. There are new stories of people fighting before new stores opened, and people fighting over items on sale.
So, we were there when the store opened, poised when we were allowed into the actual shop itself rather than just look at the displays, got our stuff and headed for the checkouts. And walked and walked and walked. The store goes on forever. Then you reach the escalators, you think you're nearly out. But you have to go through the furniture racks. Round and round we went, and all the time the signs promising the checkouts were this way.
In the end we did reach the checkouts, queued to pay, went through and other canteen past more vending machines and then we saw the sunlight. Free at last, free at last.
Ikea is at Lakeside in Essex; a huge shopping centre just north of the Dartford crossing. It is modern shopping to the max; all circular dual carriageways, massive car parks and huge shops. It is hateful. As we left the car parks were filling up, and we seeked the quiet of the countryside.
Our plan was to head to Bradwell on sea, where there is a very old church standing on the remains of a Roman fort overlooking the Essex saltmarshes. And if we happen to see any interesting churches on the way, well, we could stop off. Once we drove off the A13, we headed into deepest Essex, and to the left I spotted a small white steeple on the crest of a hill. We turned off the road we were on, and headed up Church Lane to Ss Mary and Margaret, Stowe Marie.
And for a change, the church was unlocked, and inside it was a delight. I took my shots and left a donation. We set off through the village and onto Cold Norton; always on the lookout for a sign for a church, we spotted one pointing to St Lawrence and turned off one more. Out of the village along a low ridge stands the small church. I park up and head inside to find the two wardens cleaning the church and refreshing the flowers. I was the second visitor that morning, and they were thrilled and made sure i signed the visitor's book.
On the road again, and we were running out of land as we headed towards the Blackwater estuary and Bradwell. In the bright sunlight, we passed a sandy coloured church made of recycled stones looking wonderful in the warm winter sun. The village was called Steeple, and so I could not pass the chance to photograph Steeple steeple!
And onwards we go, through Bradwell and out onto the marshes. We reached the car park, get our coats and wrap up warm as the wind was keen and cold. Along a track about a mile long, we came to the church, St Peter on the Wall, standing alone and looking out to sea. The church was begun in AD 654 and built from stones from the Roman fort that used to stand here, and it is pretty much unchanged.
I try the door, push it open, only to find a full church in the middle of a service! The last thing i would have expected. We walked to the seawall, looked out over the saltflats and open water to the huge windfarm on the horizon. The flight everchanging over the landscape was enchanting, but the wind was cooling us down. We waited to see if the service was going to end; it didn't, and so we walked back to the car and then drove back to Bradwell village to stop at The Kings Head for a warm pint of ale and lunch. We both had fried haddock and chips, which was rather good.
On the way back to Dartford, we stopped at another couple of churches, both were locked. And soon we were back amongst the heavy traffic of the A13 heading into London. We turned onto the M25, over the bridge and through the tolls and back into Kent. And from there it was just an hour blast down the M20 back to Dover and home. On the radio we listened as Norwich drew 0-0 with QPR and so are another point nearer safety, but it is glacial pace at the moment.
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