Sunday 8th September 2024

On the 4th day of the first weekend of heritage weekend. Don't worry, I know that makes little sense, but the success and popularity of the event across the country means a single four day weekend is no longer enough, it spreads to a second.

And as next weekend, when Ride and Stride is on, we won't be in Kent, it was a case of having to make do with today only.

So, first it was off to Littlebourne, where the Nailbourne becomes the Little Stour, and behind the church hides a massive aisled barn.

Sounded interesting, was to be open from ten, so after breakfast of bacon and sausage butties, we drove off along the A2, turning off to go by Aylesham and Wingham, to Littlebourne.

Its a good job the even was well signposted, because once you're past the church there's no indication that hiding behind the mature trees and church is such a large building.

We found it, parked up and walked in, where the vast space was being used mainly to showcase local artists whose work was on display to raise funds for the village.

Sadly, nothing took our fancy, and was too early for coffee and cakes, so after taking a few snaps we went back to the car, where despite the forecast of Biblical rain, floods and thunder, there was warm sunshine.

It really was a race against the clock to see how many places we could visit before the heavy rain and storms swept in. So, from Littlebourne we crossed the former Wantsun Channel, through Stourmouth, Preston and Plucks Gutter and out onto the Thanet Way, then through Acol, without making a bid, past the old airport, the RAF Museum and into Margate, finding a place to park opposite the church.

On St Patrick's Day 2020, I went churchcrawling with my friend, John Vigar, one of the churches, Margate, cancelled as infection rates rose, and people began to take it seriously. We met up at a Victorian church in Ramsgate, me then heading back home instead of going to St Peter, as I had only just visited.

But here I was, just gone twelve, and the single bell was chiming, and the cadet band were playing at the west end of the church, and people were milling about.

St John is the oldest surviving church on Thanet, though the Victorian were busy with a heavy hand, and the less said about the dreadful windows on the north side of the Nave the better.

I explained to a lady I was trying to understand the history of the church, and so to my eyes, looked Victorian, with fittings perhaps from the previous church.

She was most upset, this is a Norman church, she explained, can't you see the arcading, she asked.

Soon I saw the brasses on the floor, and memorials on the wall. In my defence, I have seen such things in Victorian churches, so, Normal it is. In parts.

Lots to see, in a church built on one level, quite the feat as its on a hill, so it feels larger, and from the outside, imposing, made of knapped flints and with the air of a prison.

But I was welcomed, and it is clearly a vibrant and living church, I enjoyed my visit, but need to go back to complete shots of the numerous memorials on the walls, as people were eating and socialising at the west end of the church.

I walked back to the car, with the intention of driving to Ramsgate for another stap at Pugin's church, but as we left the sprawl of Margate and that merged with the hell that is Westwood Cross, the rain began, and just got harder and harder.

So the plan to go to Ramsgate was abandoned, and instead we drove home through Biblical rain along to Sandwich then via the Eastry by-pass to home.

Where, once inside, and having to put the table lamp on as it was already so dark at one in the afternoon, I put the kettle on and we have a brew.

Thankfully, lots of international football is now on You Tube, so I spend several hours watching game after game, while sitting with Scully, drinking beer and eating Mini Cheddars.

Outside, day turns to night as we get a month's worth of rain in an afternoon, and the cats refuse to go out.

So it goes, so it goes.