And this week. Nothing.
So I had better fil it with something, and what could be better than some churchcrawling?
Right, especially as it is out of orchid season.
I had noticed one, then another church beside the motorway that I had somehow missed for the last several years, that and another church in Broadstairs, who keeps building these Norman churches? And who is this Norman bloke, anyways.
One of Jen's sons was coming over from Australia, for five days", to help celebrate Bett's one hundredth birthday on Monday, and Jools said she would go with Jen in the car, and after my two days spent on the motorways of the country, I had little desire to do it on Saturday. That was my excuse.
So, at nine after breakfast of criossants, I dropped Jools off at Jens, and I carried on up the A2 to Faversham.
It was a glorious late autumnal sunshine, though cool. And all along the A2, trees were turning to yellow, gold and red in celebration of the fine year they had enjoyed. Soon there will be nothing buy bare fingers grabbing the icy winds. But for today, a stady golden rain fell as the leaves fell to the ground, to nuture the trees and plants for another year.
I cruise along to the start of the M2, but carry on through Faversham and its jams and roadworks, out the other side, turning off and taking the narrow lanes to the first church. Set on a bend in the lane, overlooking woodland over the lane, a couple of cars were parked. Always a good sign.
I get out, the lady waiting in one of the cars got out of her car: "you're not a warden she said". Correctly.She told me that her partner, usual partner in cleaning the church had been seen heading in the opposite direction an hour before.
Bugger.
Then the vicar came.
He had a key.
I explained to him as well about the Kent church project, he looked slightly interested. I won't be here long, he said. I'll try to be quick I replied.
It was some ten years since I was last here, a riot of triple Victorian restorations. Apparently. It certainly was lively. On the eyes.
I go round snapping away, glad that I had returned as I had missed so much detail, and checking now, I had taken just three shots last time. I took more this time. Pretty sure I did.
From there, it was a 15 minute drive through woodland and rolling fields to the next church, sitting beside a crossroads.Again there was a car waiting, I get out, the lady gets out.
Hello, can I help you, she asked.
I explain about the church project, this would be my 322 Kent church.
What you want the pictures for? Just myself. I have a card.
It's not the Joker, but my Flickr Moo card. I explain about url addresses, blogs and albums on my photostream.
I had to be careful she says. I say I understand.
Being understanding increases the chance I will see inside, I calculate. Correctly as it turned out.
She lets me in through the priest's door in the nave, and I am met with the narrowest and longest chancel I have seen.
I suppose you'll want the lights on she says.
If possible.
I got accused of leaving the lights on once, so I don't have them on now, so I am sure I didn't leave them on.
I give her some money for the collection in the morning, and she is happy enough as I remark on how nice everything is.
I can be polite.
Can be.
I am done in ten minutes, and I tell her I am going to Bedgar next. Oh that's nice, always open she says.
It was closed.But looked nice.
Very nice. But locked. Padlocked.
I snap the church, and the details outside. The village is very picturesque, all timber-framed houses, Tudor brickwork. The house opposite was a craft shop, and looking in the window I see a crystal dragonfly, that I think Jools would like.I go in to buy it.
I say the church is locked, she says it often is. I say I snap churches out of orchid season.
Orchids? she asks.Yes, wild orchids of Kent.
Om My! Orchids are my favorite plant in the whole world. She pointed at a cultivated one on her desktop.
Not like those, mostly smaller, wild hardy orchids.
So much smaller than this? Not all are, some are big and smell of goat's wee.
Too much information?
Probably.
I take the dragonfly and bid her farewell.
Into the car to drive to a church she had mentioned, Rodmersham. I had seen it on the finger at a crossroads earlier.
I go back to the crossroads, follow the direction the sign pointed, but the village wasn't mentioned on the next two junctions. I resort to the sat nav, and it takes me down more shady lanes which disappeared into golden roofed tunnels under trees.
It was marvellous.
I told the car it was marvellous. It told me to drive on.
I did.
Rodmersham was a small village but with a huge church. And was open.
Though I had convinced myself it was closed.
I turn on all the lights and go round, delighting in the details.
There was no one here though, and just two small council houses, or former council houses opposite.
I turn for home, it was now just after one, Huey had finished and Liz was on the wireless. I am not so fond of her these days. So I switch the radio off as on Radio 5 they are talking about sport. Talking about sport isn't as good as sport. Football is on Talk Radio, and that has ads and betting odds. I drive in silence back to Faversham, where I nearly have an accident when a boy racer decides not to stop at a junction when I had right of way. Of course, it was I in the wrong.
I get home without further incident. And had just made a brew when Jools returned. She must have heard the kettle boiling. So I make her a cuppa and we have a square or two of chocolate.
I make a second Christmas cake, this one had a half bottle of Madeira in it, and the fruit had soaked for 24 hours soaking in the liquor.
It was all done by three when I go to listen to the football, though Norwich had played the night before. I write and edit shots, so my mind is not 100% on the footy, Jools would say thats usual.
We have party food for dinner: a selection of prawn/shrimp things and some mini chicken kievs. And wine.
Somhow it was evening, and after watching the final Gardener's World of the 2019 season, we retire to bed to read.
Phew.
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