Wednesday 20th September 2023

In 2018, a Flickrfriend noticed I was posting shots near to where she lived in New York. Short story is that the next day we met up for beers and a chat.

Fast forward five years and Diane is back visiting the UK and she was coming to Canterbury, did I want to meet and show her round?

Yes.

Yes, I do.

With just the one car, and Canterbury being a car-unfriendly city built still on a medieval road plan, it is easier to travel by public transport. So, at half seven, Jools dropped me off at Dover Priory so I could catch the train to Canterbury East, through the overgrown remains of the Kent coalfield at Shepherdswell and Snowdon, and detrain at Canterbury.

It was a dull, damp morning, with a strong wind blowing, but the forecast suggested little rain, but the wind would ensure that what rain there was, would be thrown in our faces, or at our back, with some force.

It is a poorly marked path into the city centre, but thanks to the nearby Castle, St Mildrids and Dane John Park, I guessed, correctly, that I walked straight ahead, once having crossed the small park which seems to be where St Mary in Castro once stood, the centre would be about ten minutes away.

I had eaten just an orange before leaving home, having decided I should have breakfast out, so it was that I walked to, and into The Saffron Café, where I ordered a large breakfast a a pot of tea, then people watched as I waited for the bangers and rashers to be cooked.

When it arrived, it was very good indeed, not greasy, and just what I had planned breakfast to be.

Once eaten and paid, I walk to the Buttercross, where the time was a minute before nine, and the Cathedral would soon be open.

No one else around, so I became the first paying visitor of the day, and went round taking some shots (I only had the nifty fifty with me, but my main target was the Chapterhouse and Crypt.

Both were open, though photography not allowed in the Crypt, though I did take a couple of shots of what I wanted to see here, the two columns rescued from the old Saxon church at Recilver, which was pulled down by its parishioners who believed, thanks to the then vicar's mother, that it was imperilled by the encroaching sea.

200 years later and Reculver Towers still stand, and the footprint of the church is still safe from the sea.

My only concern as to see wheich of the dozens of columns down in the Crypt, all holding the cathedral above it, up, where the ones I wanted to see. That was answered by two oversized columns, which were labelled as such. I took my shots and went in search of the Chapterhouse, which somehow I had missed on previous visits too.

This was open, and empty, but the stunning ceiling and stined glass windows would require a return visit with the big lens, but no matter as the entrance ticket allows for unlimited revisits for 12 months.

I walk back outside after an hour, and get a message from Diane that she was delayed with ticket problems, so I had time on my hands before her new arrival time of ten past midday came.

So, I went for a haircut, saving me a job on Sunday, though not as good as the guys in Folkestone, it'll last until I return from Denmark in two weeks or maybe more.

I had forgotten to pring my allergy spray, so went in search of a branch of Boots, got the spray, then went to Waterstones for a copy of Stuart Maconie's new book, not for today, but for my trip to Denmark, something to read when dining alone.....

That found and bought, it was now time to walk to the station and meet Diane, and maybe even read the first chapter of the book too.

I reached the station with a quarter of an hour to spare, so I sat down to begin to read, when a group of four young adults sat behind, began playing music, smoking and to start being annoying. And then a man came to me and asked if I was local, and if so did I know where the job centre was?

I didn't, but one of the young men behind me chirped up and explained by turning left on the main road and following the road along would bring him to the job centre.

Never judge a book by the cover, Ian.

Diane's train came in, and after negotiating the lift up from the platform, along the walkway and down the lift the other side, ten more minutes had gone by, but she came out.

We hugged and I had to explain that the Cathedral had more steps than I remember, but we could go and see where we could get into and see.

So, first up was a walk back into the city, past the Westgate, over broth branches of the Stour, stopping to look at the ditching stool and then through to Palace Street to see Number 8, and further along to the old King's School Book Shop with its wonky door and all odd angles.

Diane got her shots, and on the way back we paused for a drink at the Bell and Crown, where a "typical" English beer was requested. After chatting with a guy at the bar, I decided on a Leffe, as I had bought her a Belgian beer in NYC when we last met.

I took the beer outside where we drank and talked more.

A check of the time revelled it to be after two, so we drank up and walked to the Cathedral. I had my ticket from the morning, Diane bought hers, and we made our way to the side door so she could see and take shots from the Nave.

To get to the Quire we had to go back out and walk all the way round past the Chancel, ruins of other buildings and to where there was a passageway to the School, the other way lead to a small barely marked lift, which took us up to the Quire, where the majesty of the Cathedral.

It really is rather magnificent, even if on her buggy we could not get to see the tomb of The Black Prince.

Sunlight falling through the stained glass was also wonderful, and we both took shots, but time was getting away.

Before I left for home, we looked for a place to eat, couldn't find a pasty shop, but we did find a chippy. So eating a battered sausage and well salted and vinegared chips we ate and talked so more.

And so it was time to part, I took her back to High Street, and she went off to West Station, while I walked back to East.

Thankfully I had walked it this morning, so found it no trouble, but the way was poorly marked and I could have easily got lost.

On the platform, there was a train in ten minutes, which would get me back to Priory station by twenty past five, just in time for Jools to pick me up on her way home.

Which would have been perfect had it not been for roadworks and traffic lights. I walked up Folkestone Road along the line of cars waiting at the lights until I found Jools, got in and once through the lights, back up Jubilee Way to home.

I quickly rustled up Carbonara, plating it up in less than 20 minutes. I checked my phone, 21,500 steps, which the health app seemed to approve of.

And to end the perfect day, Norwich were on telly, but playing Leicester who took their chances and we didn't. City lost 2-0.

Oh well.

A fine day, all in all