Sunday 25th October 2015

Midpoint between my birthday and Christmas. Just so you know.

Saturday

Despite it being the first day of the holiday, we find ourselves laying awake waiting for dawn to come. It would have been a long wait, so after the news at six, we get up, feed the cats and make coffee. And then we have no choice but to go shopping, as we were out of milk. So, we make a list of stuff and set off for Tesco at the crack of down, so we can just through it as quickly as possible.

Needless to say it is full of Halloween stuff. Fireworks. And aisles and aisles of Christmas stuff. Bah, humbug! We go round, ticking stuff off the list, and soon enough the trolley is overflowing with stuff: do we need all this stuff? I guess so.

But by eight, we have loaded the car and are on the way home as more and more people are arriving. At least we don't have to do that for another week!

During the week, Jools is out of the house all of the day. And I am in the house all of the day. Which means comes the weekend, I want to go out and she wants to stay in, especially when the weather is crappy. With a morning of church chasing ahead, I say I will go and Jools can stay at home; we will spend all of Sunday together anyway. So it is agreed, I will do the church chasing, and Jools will stay home and bead.

I have a list of churches, the other side of Canterbury. And with a vague plan, I load the car, put 6 Music on the radio, and with the music pounding away, off I go. I arrived at the parish church of Boughton under Blean , I pulled up outside the Lych Gate, and was in the process of getting my gear out of the boot: are you lost asked a passing motorist. No, I am here visiting the church, take some pictures.

Would you like to go inside, he asks, I have the key here?

What luck for me. I said I would of course. So he parks up and he and his wife open the church up for me, and accompany me round as I take my shots, giving me the history of the church, interesting things to notice, and we swap thoughts on nearby churches. All in all a glorious visit.

From there it was a short drive along narrow lanes to the village of Selling, and a church I thought I had visited, but as it turned out, I had not. But I had received a tip off that it was now unlocked, at least through the day, and once finding a sign pointing to the church, I drove up and found a massive, for Kent, village church with a wide graveyard. And indeed the door was unlcoed, and inside I went. No warm welcome here, just a fine rural church. It is a typical two cell church, but with some nice glass and hanging on the wall, a set of Maundy Money presented to a member of the congregation a decade or so ago.

The third church is Blean, just north of Canterbury. Blean has the main Whitstable to Canterbury road pass through it, and is a collection of fairly modern buildings, so no thought of an ancient church had entered my mind until I looked in my books that morning. But Ss. Cosmus and Damian is ancient, and set in the middle what was some kind of castle with the remains of a moat. The church is 12th century, and unusual enough to get the huices flowing, and has really fine fairly modern glass, that I liked at least.

With Canterbury being so close, the straightest way home would take me round the ring road, which I could not face; so I head north to joint the Thanet Way at Whitstable before turning east towards Ramsgate. A long way round, but with Kent dressed in her autumn colours, it really is a joy just to see it. I should have stopped, and I had a mind to stop at Blean Wood to see the fungi which I now are in profusion at the moment. But, fungi would be another thing to snap, and having let slip the Kent church project, I decided to focus on my main target for the day: Womenswold.

This would be the forth time I have been here, and even with two keyholders listed last time, neither one was in: so I was berating myself for more wadted time in heading back through Preston and Wigham on my way back to the A2 before taking the road to Womenswold.

The door was locked, but one of the keyholder lives opposite: I go over and ring the bell; not sure if it makes a sound. I can see a light on in what I guess is the kitchen. I knock on the door; there is movement, but not towards the door. I decide to give one more knock and give up. The door is answered. The keyholder gives me a look up and down, I explain photography and the project. He accepts, then tells me about the recent renovations.

I have the key!

I walk to the car, collect the cameras and then to the church, unlock the door and I am in! There are many memorials on the wall, some nice glass, and the church itself is very nice. I get my shots, but seem to be done quickly. I have my shots. And my stomach tells me it is lunchtime.

Home is just a twenty minute drive away, a quick blast up the A2 to Whitfield and then to home. Jools has not eaten, so I make a couple of ham rolls, brews. And I am sitting down with Jools at two ready for the football at three.

Oh yes, football. City had another poor afternoon, lost 1-0 to WBA, and seemed to lack that spark they have had since Alex arrived. Seems like the hammering last week might have affected their spirit. We huffed. We puffed. But did not come close.

There is rugby on the TV, New Zealand v South Africa: an enthralling 2nd half, and the All Blacks just powered past the Spingboks, an amazing thing to see: a team with spirit and determination. Both things which England sorely lacked in their home tournament.

Pizza for dinner. Pizza and beer. That night the clocks would go back, and so begins wintertime, bringing cold, storms and will be dark before five from now on.