Saturday 31st August 2019

After two years and three months, on Friday the 31st turbine was installed on my old project. I won't lie, it has been one hell of a slog. But, we have done it. Now, some final work to test them then fix any final issues, and job done.

Saturday, we were due to meet friends in Canterbury for drinks and a meal at the Korean Cowgirl, but Tracie is still recovering from an operation, so we had to think of something else to do.

Or I thought of something else to do.

And what I thought of had something to do with churches.

Of course.

After early morning coffee, I go to Tesco to get a few essentials, then back home to make bacon butties, tidy up so Jools could go for a hair cut.

And then we could go out.

A week ago, I had planned to do six churches, it got too hot halfway through, so this Saturday we set off to do the remaining three.

We went to same way too, up to Ashford, then across the marshes to Ham Street, across to Tenterden, then to our first church, Hawkhurst.

I will be honest, that after some 350 churches, I have rather lost the overview of what we have been to and not. Hawkhurst seems like it was a church we have visited, but I could find no shots on my Flickr stream, nor was it listed in my little black book.

We drove through the pretty town, looking for the church tower. We past a Victorian spire all covered in scaffolding, this wasn't the one. Traffic was crazy in the centre of the town, but we do get through, and in a quiet corner of the village, there was the church, on a sweeping bend. I looked for a place to park, but noticed that the door of the porch was closed; never a good sign.

Jools said there were two ladies outside the church gate, maybe they had a key?

It seemed a long shot.

So, I got my gear out and walked to the gate and the two ladies.

Are you a Whovian? She asked.

(A Whovian is someone who is a fan of Dr Who).

Should I be?

Well, a lot come here, she said. It was in an episode. We had a family all dressed up at Sylvester McCoy last week, so excited.

Well, I am trying to photograph inside each parish church in the county.

She seemed very interested. But not interested to spend more than two minutes talking. But she did walk me to the porch door, said that a lot of the glass got destroyed when a V1 crashed nearby.

Hawkhurst is a grand church, so I am kept busy going round and round with my two cameras, snapping everything, all details.

Jools is outside laying in the churchyard reading her latest book, so I am not under any pressure to finish quickly.

But I do wrap up.

It is a ten minute drive to Cranbrook, and on the way I say to Jools: I'm hungry, I could really eat a cream tea.

Anyway, we drive into the twon, which turned into the most attractive Kentish market down, all narrow lanes lined with clapboard housed and timber-framed shops. Parking was easy, and free, and on the way we pass a tea shop.

Cream tea?

We walk up the slope, take a seat outside, and have to most wonderful view of the peg-tiled roofs with the windmill on a hill behind.

This was most splendid.

We ordered two cream teas, and we got two scones each, with a large pot of clotted cream and strawberry jam.

Nom.

Nom.

Nom.

It was most wonderful.

Again, I was too eager to eat so failed to snap the meal. Just along the street was the entrance to the churchyard, with the church on the highest point, a very similar church to Hawkhurst.

It is most excellent again, and lots to see and snap. So it takes half an hour to get round before I am done.

Shall we go?

We shall.

Our last stop was Sissinghurst, world famous for the castle and garden created by the Sackvilles. But frst we stop at the church. A simple 19th century building, but with fine 20th century glass. I loved the glass.

And so, onto the Castle.

It is National Trust, which means £15 each to get in, but it is a decade since we were last here. Anyway, we were fed and watered, so would just we walking round, taking snaps.

The garden is in its full summer splendour. We walk around aimlessly, taking pictures and people watching.

The garden is alive with insects, and I try to snap some, but fail.

After an hour, we find a seat to rest on, looking down a path, so we can watch people coming and going. And watch the butterflies and dragonflies circling round and round.

I could have sat there all day.

But it was three, and home was over an hour away. So we return to the car for the drive home. By sheer chance we reached the car at three, just as Norwich kicked off.

But, it was to be an afternoon of disappointment for us Norwich fans. Injuries to defenders meant we were already down to the quick, but Zimmerman got injured. By then we were 1-0 down, West Ham scored a second before half time, and that was that. No fourth game in a row for Pukki, and now for the international break.

Time to draw breath.

We reach home just before half four, so I listen to the end of the games while sorting through the pictures taken through the day.

Evening now seems so short, as it is now dark by eight, and a chill in the air. In the morning it will be a new month, September, and soon be autumn.

We play Uckers, and Jools wins again. She learns quick. I