Saturday 28th March 2026

Time then, for a road trip.

And the weather was to be bright, sunny and fairly warm. Until the early afternoon, where at our destination, there was a chance of showers.

Chance.

Showers.

With 150 miles to drive, it was up at five, feed the cats and make coffee. Check on traffic and the weather. Again.

Before setting off at ten past six.

First stop was Tesco to top up the tank, which thanks to the Orange Man Baby costs now £1.50 a litre and will only go higher.

Back onto the A2 to cruise up to the bottom of the motorway, then into Faversham, to pick up my old friend, Andy, as he was to be my travel buddy.

I had to wait a while for him to be ready, I was fifteen minutes early, after all.

Then he jumped in, and we turned onto to the motorway to head north.

Traffic light going north, but busier going south towards Dover. We'll worry about that in the afternoon when we come back.

But for now we were making good time to Gravesend, then onto the M25 and down into the Dartford Tunnel under the river and into the badlands of south Essex.

We had loads of time, so cruise round to the M11 turn off, then round the cloverleaf and back north towards Stanstead.

Amazing how light traffic was, and was lighter once we passed the airport and motored into Cambridgeshire then onto Newmarket and so into Suffolk.

We stopped for breakfast at the services on the A14: sausage rolls and a brew at Greggs.

We had half an hour to go to our destination, and nearly three hours to kill.

So, what to do?

I had mentioned the viewing area at RAF Lakenheath, so we turned north to Barton Mills, then on the Brandon road until we came to the USAF base, which is a little bit of the US in Suffolk.

It seems the fence has been upgraded, and I'm pretty sure there was numberplate recognition cameras around, but we were just going to see if there were any planes to see.

Once we arrived at the viewing point, there were dozens of cars already there, most people had cameras with huge lenses and stepladders so to see further, though still through the fence.

A large military vehicle kept watch on the small crowd. We parked up and wandered about. Some had air band scanners, but the lack of action meant we quickly got bored, so we went back to the car and drove to a nearby village to see what there was to see.

Mildenhall is a large market village, with old houses and a huge parish church.

After driving round the small one-way system one and a half times, we parked in Sainsbury's, where we had two hours free parking.

Andy has his targets, and me mine. So we would meet back at the car at twenty past ten, I strode off towards the church, only to find it didn't open until ten.

So, I walked round the village, took some shots, just to fill the time.

There are plenty of small shops and takeaways, though few customers at half nine even on a Saturday morning, but clearly enough trade to keep them in business.

The modern arcade near the bus station is bland to say the least, but again most units had tenants, and there were a few folks around.

I walked back to the church at five to ten, met up with Andy outside, and so we both found the door to the large porch open.

A warden was inside, though friendly enough, didn't like my suggestion I could walk into the sanctuary of the south chapel to photograph the large memorial on the south wall.

It was a bit frosty after that, though no amount of frost could cool my love of the roofs of the Nave and two Aisles. Carved with angels in the Nave, and hammerbeams with carved figures in each aisle. All wonderful work. I wish I had the big lens, but this would have to do.

We had forty minutes before we had to be at Barham, so we walked back tot he car, used the facilities, and drove the twenty minutes over the other side of the A11, up the dead end part of the old road, through Elvington, now returned to tranquillity now the traffic passes by a field away, before turning right over the fields past flocks of black fleece sheep to the old base, now a small industrial estate with businesses having taken over the old military buildings.

We were here for a guided tour, along with about twenty others from around the country. So we checked in, and Andy went to climb the watch tower. Having climbed them in my youth in the RAF, I passed.

RAF Barnham was the maintenance unit where the UK's first generation of ballistic nuclear bombs were built and maintained.

Blue Danube, a 15 kiloton weapon, as some 7.3m long and weighed 10,000 pounds. Inside were the fissile material, and the accelerator that started the chain reaction after the core had been compressed by high explosives.

The accelerator had a short half-life, so had to be replaced, hence the need for third line maintenance here.

On the site are the prep buildings, storage buildings (hutches) for the cores, as well as messes, barracks, a fire station, MT depot and offices.

At eleven, the tour began. First with a potted history by the son of the couple who bought the site from the MOD in the sixties for twenty grand. To grow mushrooms.

That failed within three years, but parts of the site were leased out as storage and industrial units, and so the base was preserved.

Mostly.

The tour proper began, walking round the entire outside of the site in the end, and into a couple of the buildings, while more of the history was explained.

There are over 50 of the "hutches" where the fissile cores were stored, some have been preserved, many have not.

After about an hour, the sky darkened, and soon the wind picked up and we had to deal with hail and then heavy rain.

We tightened our coats, and the tour continued, as we explored the rest of the site, ending with the storage building for the complete weapons.

It was twenty to two. We were both hungry, and a search of the CAMRA website for a real ale pub took us 12 miles to Freckenham to the Golden Boar pub.

Only one other table was in use, so we had the pick of the remainder, and chose one beside the window which looked out onto a small courtyard.

Soon, two long-tailed tits came to the window, hung from the frame and looked in, each with beaks stuffed with feathers for their nest. Such cute bundles of joy.

The food, when it came was excellent. Burger for me, and hunter's chicken for Andy. Sadly, there was no ale on, and certainly no chance of there being Adnams, which CAMRA had promised us.

We ate our meals, Andy paid, then we returned to the car for the long drive home.

Back to the A11, then onto the motorway and into Essex.

Traffic was heavy, but not too bad. So I cruised at sixty, and while we talked, the car ate the miles up.

Onto the M25, gaps between junctions that took ages to bridge, passed in mere blinks of an eye.

Over the bridge and back into Kent. We turned down the A2, cruising again at sixty for the last thirty miles over the Medway and back to Faversham where I dropped Andy off on the old Roman Road/A2.

Just left me to get back to the A2, then drive back past Canterbury to Whitfield and home. Getting back at twenty to seven.

No dinner for me. But Jools had cheesy and onion rolls, though we both had brews, then a beer/cider as the last sunset of winter time played out away to the west.

I was pooped, so we went to bed just after eight, with no football, there was no distraction, and soon the Sandman took me from this world.

Friday 27th March 2026

It's nearly the weekend.

Although, as I'm sure you're tired of me saying, every day is the weekend now.

Which it is.

A few things now only anchor us to the calendar, one of which is bin day, which is Friday.

I sleep in to six, an d am up as Jools leaves for yoga, leaving me with a fresh cup of coffee, so I can see the morning in caffinated.

Bins are done. Feeders topped up, and then check on the madness in the world.

As soon as Jools get back, I take the car to go to Tesco for supplies, so not to have to do it later in the day or Saturday, when I was planned to be on a road trip.

Tesco was calm, a few schoolchildren were out buying cans of Monster and packs of crisps on their way to whatever the high school is calling itself this year. I lost track a few years back.

Then back home so Jools could take her small posse of ladies to the library for craft and chat.

Phew.

I put the shopping away, and ponder what to do with the day. I don't do much as its chilly outside, so only go out to snap the Cowlips now they're fully open, and that would have to do for the shot of the day.

As the afternoon was spent watching Alien Earth, or three episodes of it, and it still makes little sense, but it looks fabulous if nothing else.

After dinner there is the music quiz: I come tenth, so get just the one point for the whole month, before I waste two hours watching England play Uruguay, which ends in a dour 1-1 draw.

No refunds available.

Thursday 26th March 2026

Its Thursday.

Yay.

That means up early so we can leave home to be at the gym for six.

Or just past.

It is now getting light at quarter past five, with the sun rising at quarter to six.

Odd for it to be daylight when we hit the road, be daylight and there be no traffic.

The car park was packed already. Some kind of swimming practice as there is a gala at the weekend. Lots of cars disgorging bleary eyed children and a parent.

We go in and take our favoured machines. I select The Bugle podcast to listen to, power on the headphones, and am away.

Not much else to say, other than I got hot and bothered, thought about bailing at half an hour, but powered through to the forty minutes.

Jools was going out, as the car needed new brake pads and shoes. Or something. So, while the car was in the shop, she would walk up Combe Valley Road to visit her sister for a catch up.

I stayed home to watch the place, have a shave and shower, then faff around the rest of the morning.

Outside it was a bright, but chilly breezy kind of day, though I did don my jumper and crocks and go for a short walk to look at some wild flowers, but the tidy brigade had mown the verges all the way up Station Road, and colonies of Red deadnettle, Shepherd's Purse among others, are history.

Sigh.

Can we not just have a little nature?

Please?

Back home I have a warming brew and wait for Jools to come back so we could have lunch.

The afternoon was spent watching the first episode of Alien Earth, as we now have access to Disney Plus. I had high hopes.

I had a beer delivery!

Yay.

So, as we now have two fridges, all are now chilling, ready for drinking.

But, part of the visuals and characterisations were lifted from Bladerunner. I mean if you're going to nick ideas, at least steal the best ones, right?

It looks amazing, but the plot is all over the place. Maybe it settles down.

(Readers: it does not settle down)

And so into the evening, with clear skies come chilly nights, so we put on a jumper, and I settle down to watch Wales v Bosnia on the World Cup Qualifiers. I was tired. It went to extra time. Then penalties.

I went to bed before the spot kicks, and Wales lost.

Always next time.

Wednesday 25th March 2026

Wednesday. Again.

No phys.

A lay in.

And for a change my brain and body let me lay in to quarter past six, and hearing no sounds in the house assumed Jools had gone swimming.

But there was a cough, so Jools was there, and had bailed on the swimming and wanted a slow morning instead.

She did have a class later, but that was half nine, so we could laze around, drinking coffee and having breakfast.

I went upstairs to take a shot of the sofa in the bathroom, only to find Cleo asleep, so managed to rattle off a couple of shots before she ran out.

Another fine, if cool day, with wind building through the day as temperatures dropped.

Nice.

I mentioned it was going to be a quiet day, but then Jools reminded me that there was churchcrawling in the afternoon.

Oh yeah.

So, Jools went into town for her class, while I stayed home, did chores, messed around in the garden, topping up the ponds and checking for spawn.

It was just warm enough to sit in on the patio underneath the kitchen window, where both Mulder and Scully sat close or on me, just to show they car. Care where their next meal was coming from.

Jools returned home with sticky buns for lunch, which we wolfed down with a brew.

And then it was time to go out.

Once upon a time, Deal and Walmer were once considered dens of iniquity in the middle of the 19th century, though as Bradshaw notes Deal was becoming genteel with bathing available, along with large villas looking onto the coast.

These days, Deal and Walmer are among the most Godly town in Kent, with new churches and chapels found by me most years. St Mary Old Church is indeed old, sits about a mile from the coast in what is now called Upper Walmer. Later in the 19th century, it was considered too small for the congregation, so St Mary New Church was bult the other side of the Dover Road.

Another reason for visiting St Mary Old Church is that it the only place in the country where the funerary hatchment of the First Duke of Wellington, who saw out his days as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, residing at Walmer Castle, until he died.

I had arranged for the church to be open at two, so I arrived at half one, looked around and took shots, before going to wait at the lych gate for the group and warden to arrive.

Two members of the group arrived, then a third after she found her way from the wrong church, but there was no warden.

The promised heavy rain shower arrived, and so we sheltered under the lych gate. The wind picked up and it went from chilly to downright cold.

We gave it to quarter past two, then we agreed to go home before we froze.

I drove back home, where upon return, cooked dinner of fishcakes and stir fry with noodles, which was rather good.

And that was it for the day. No football again, so to bead early to read and get snoozy.

Tuesday 24th March 2026

You know the drill by now.

Being a Tuesday, it's off to the gym on my own first thing, leaving home at ten to six, so to arrive at six when the doors open. Up to the studio, on the bike and listen to the latest Word in Your Ear podcast while I peddle.

I was done by ten to seven, so nip to Tesco for a few things, and a few things we didn't need, and stuff we needed but I forgot.

Anyway, enough supplies to the end of the week, and back home at twenty past seven, where there was a fresh brew waiting.

Jools was out for several hours, so she left at twenty to eight, and I am left with more stuff to sort out, including a big box of family photos that were mostly doubles, triples.

Even with already having copies in albums, it feels wrong to throw pictures out that have been kept in some cases for 90 years or more. But with no one to leave them to, and I doubt if I will look at the albums more than once a year, if that, why not just clear them away.

So, a large box with the photographs, and five years of WSC as the drawer beside the bed where I keep them is now full. I don't read copies other than the season previews more than once, so out they go too.

The other task is to bottle the sloe port.

Sloe port is what you can make once the sloe gin is decanted, refilling the container with a mix of 75% red wine/25% fortified wine, plus some sugar.

This produces a wonderful drink, and is very pleasant straight from bottling.

So I get busy, and do it in about an hour, and for a change, make no mess with split port. I save a glass for us to try once Jools is back, then clean the demijohns and jugs, and pack stuff away.

Jools has found my stamp collection. Mostly collected by my Dad when I was a baby and toddler. It is a joy to see the bold stamp designs for the swinging 60s in Britain, and from around Europe and the world. I even find some stamps with orchids on!

Missing is the pre-war German stamps from the 1920s, which Mum insisted I return to her. Which I did, and so when she passed, they ended up as landfill. Not that they were that valuable, but of historic interest, as many had been double printed with new values as hyper-inflation took hold.

We have pie, roast potatoes, steamed vegetables and gravy for lunch-cum-dinner, along with a bottle of fizz!

And normally we would be done for the day. Except we had a chaise longues delivered for a place for reading in the bright bathroom.

It was delivered as we were having dinner, so once we were rested, we unbox it, and transport the bits upstairs.

It has just seven parts, and four of those are the short legs. And it went together OK, but was awkward, but after half an hour was done. Mostly.

I'll post shots tomorrow.

With no football on TV, I read an old music magazine in bed before turning in at half eight.

Pooped again.

Monday 23rd March 2026

It is Monday.

Again.

But, no worries. No work, and literally no worries.

I do, however, have to go to Deal first thing for some foot fondling.

When I say that, I mean as I was diagnosed with diabetes last year, hope to soon not be, but I have to look after my feet, and there is a podiatrist in Deal, who checks my feet, trims nails and gives advice.

This would be my third visit.

But we woke up to a right old pea souper.

I mean at times we could not see beyond the bottom of the garden. Which most days is not a problem. But going to Deal could mean the right turn at the bottom of Station Road, and two weeks back a neighbour, Jerry, got T-boned turning right there. Wasn't injured, but the car totalled.

Just to be safe, I leave early, and drive to the Duke of Yorks, go all the way round and back along the Deal road.

Safe as houses.

Even with the thick fog, 10% or so of cars had no lights, and about another 10% had fog lights on.

I have no words.

So, I drive into Walmer and find a place to park near Deal Castle, then walk along the promenade to the base of the pier, just for some snaps in the fog. Even then it was lifting, and instead was just plain murky.

I went to the High Street to the brand new branch of Greggs, have a sausage roll before walking to the clinic.

The day had begun, traffic was thinning out. A dust cart was doing the bins as I walked along.

Up the stairs and into the chair where she assessed my feet. Applied a dressing to a wound I got from Cyprus, caused by socks. Don't ask. Nails trimmed, skin sanded down and cream applied.

I walk back to the car and am home in ten minutes, as Jools is off out, also to Deal for a walk and to take a friend for a coffee.

So I was home alone. Have breakfast, fill the feeders and watch videos.

The morning ticks by.

There is more sorting of stuff to do. Two more boxes of books and photos brought down from the loft, so I spend the afternoon filling the family albums with more shots. Most doubles, I'm sure, but I lost the will to check.

Only I will ever look at these albums, and I am doing them so if the family are looking down, I might not visit their graves often, I have sorted out their memories and photographs.

That done I cook dinner.

Which we eat listening to Desert Island Discs, which passes an hour until the afternoon becomes early evening and its time to feed the cats and wash up.

No football to watch.

Oh noes.

So, Jools goes out to visit her brother, and I stay in and watch some science stuff about Jupiter.

As you do.

New front in the culture wars

As if the wars on Easter, Poppy Day and Christmas were not enough to get the red flushed faced up in arms, its now money.

For the last few years, the Royal Mint has replaced all the definitive coins with ones featuring British fauna and flora. Though most wouldn't have seen them yet, as mintage has been very low due to people using cashless, but the "bee" pound coins are out there.

So far so nature.

Right?

Well, news came last week that the notes are going to be replaced with animals and plants too, incuding the £5 note.

The current note, brough in, according to the Mint's own website only in 2016, features one Winston Churchill.

"Messing with tradition!.

"Replacing Churchill with a badger!"

And so on.

There is nothing about erasing our heritage or histroy, just change. Change in something that has only featured the wartime leader for a decade.

Maybe they could get worked up about something not so pathetic next time. But I doubt it.

Sunday 22nd March 2026

Sunday.

Again.

Being a Sunday, it means going to the gym first thing. Well, after coffee and getting dressed.

Not much to say about the gym really.

We went.

We cycled.

We puffed.

And left.

So, back home just after eight, and with it being a bright and sunny warm day, it would be a pity to spend it watching football.

I say "warm", and it was indeed warm when the sun found a gap in the clouds, but at other times, the wind that had shifted round to the north, made it chilly.

After breakfast, Jools finished the bed at the front of the house, taking the old lavender out and planting younger ones on their place, so the path was revealed again.

I had a shower, then ran the mower over the now vigorous sprouting grass, but leaving the lawnmeadow part alone.

It looks kind of neat.

At midday the football began. Three games in a row, all worth watching, and yet another day spent on the sofa seems a waste.

Just as well as there's an international break next week, so much less football on the TV.

The Tyne-Wear derby was up first: Newcastle v Sunderland, and Sunderland scored late to take the points and bragging.

Next up the Meh Derby: Spurs v Forest, where the loser could be relegated. A game neither, then, could afford to lose. But Spurs did lose, 3-0 after dominating the first half, only to concede in the last minute before half time. And never recovered.

Finally, the League Cup Final between Citeh and Arse: a fair game in which I wanted both teams to lose, but one had to win, and that was Citeh.

Oh well.

Pizza and beer for dinner during the final, and that was the day and weekend done with.

Saturday 21st March 2026

The first orchid in Kent was found to be in flower on Fray. An Early Purple in the Faversham area.

In previous years I would have gone out to all the sites I know, checking spikes for one in flower.

But I am different now.

Also, we had to go out at weekends, as we worked during the week, but now we go out during the week, mostly to avoid people.

So, although it took willpower on my part, we did not go orchiding over the weekend.

But we did go to the gym Saturday morning. Me with my new headphones too. Jools went swimming, so I cycled alone, which is fine.

Another fine Spring morning, cool enough for a ground frost on some cars and the field at Westcliffe, but would warm up.

After phys, I popped to Tesco for a few things to tide us over until mid-week. I bought no beer, but did buy cider for Jools so she didn't run out.

Then back to the sports centre to pick Jools up when she came out of the sauna and had a shower. So back home for half eight for breakfast of short life savoury stuffed eggs and a fresh brew.

Jools did gardening, and I had a shower, prepared potatoes for hash, then vacuumed the utility room, kitchen, living room and stairs.

The vacuum is also the Mk1 cat scaring device, so they either went upstairs or out.

At half midday the football marathon began: Ipswich v Millwall which ended a fair 1-1 draw.

Then to the radio to follow Norwich at Charlton, as our injury crisis deepened, and yet City won 1-0 so now have 54 points and are 12th.

At some point I cooked hash, and we ate whilst the radio or TV burbled.

Then to Coventry at Swansea, and Coventry were 3-0 up at half time and cruising, with all teams just below them either lost or drew. So I switched over to watch the second half of Everton v Chelsea, and was rewarded with a 3-0 home win as the cheats lost again.

I couldn't face a 5th game, Leeds v Brentford, so went to bed at half eight, so missed the 0-0 draw.

Friday 20th March 2026

We reached Friday, 364 days since my last day at work.

Time has flown.

The spring and summer and then first part of the weekend was easy, going out lots. But once the clocks went back, the long dark evenings dragged, but with our hobbies and interests. And the gym, time went quick, and any thoughts of needing to return to work was banished.

After two busy days out and about, Friday was to be a quiet one, with Jools out at Yoga and the library all morning. And on top of that, two tip runs.

While I stayed home and did stuff.

In the garden the cowslips are coming into the flower, and the pasqueflowers will be next. It was a wonderfully warm morning, warm enough to sit in the various places in the garden as Sol travelled across the sky.

Scully and Cleo joined me down at the bottom patio under the shelter. Cleo being contrary, demanded strokes and cuddles as she rubbed against my legs. Most of the time in the house, I can't get near her.

Cats.

Jools was due home at two, so lunch at half past of homemade buttermilk chicken, steamed vegetables, creamed spinach and Spanish rice.

That went down well.

Then came an hour or two of more relaxing, washing up until it was time for the music quiz, which I again had a mindblank on, so failed to guess Everything Must Go.

As its the last weekend before the international break, there was Prem football in the evening: Bournemouth v Man Utd, which ended a 2-2 draw, and was entertaining.

Which is about all I can ask.

Thursday 19th March 2026

Before I was born, the Large tortoiseshell butterfly was declared extinct in the UK.

Numbers had fallen for years, maybe due to Dutch elm disease, or something else.

A once common sight in the south of England, gone forever.

A few years back, news of a potential breeding colony was reported on the Isle of Portland in Dorset, with sightings of its caterpillars.

Such sightings were put down to migration or captive release, but sightings spread. To the Isle of Wight, Sussex and then to Kent.

A large wood on the edge of the Romney Marsh held two populations, and as the butterflies emerge from hibernation in late February or early March, it seemed a good idea to go on the warmest sunniest day of the year.

I spoke with the butterfly whisperer, Fran, and she said she would come along and guide me to at least one of the sites, and maybe we would get lucky.

On the 9th March this year, the charity, Butterfly Conservation, changed the status of the Large tortoiseshell from "migrant" to "resident", a change that predates the charity itself.

I am sure I saw one over by Fleet House a few years back. A large orange and brown butterfly that glided rather than fluttered, could really not be anything else. If only I got a picture.

So to Thursday.

Being a Thursday, it was up with the larks, and as it was getting light, so to be leaving the house just before six to get our session done.

I had a new pair of "over-ear" headphones to try out. Although they were sweaty, the sound was fine, and I had a good session, if the time did drag.

Back home for a shower and get dressed, have breakfast, so that come nine, I was ready to meet Fran at the station, and drive us to Orlestone.

I know Kent either through orchids or churches, so I could get us within a couple of miles of the wood, but then let the phone do the hard work to get us to the reserve car park.

From there it was a ten minute walk to one of the four gallops created through the wood, and along these the butterflies spend most of their time, high in the treetops.

We knew from reports that the furthest gallop is where most of the butterflies were the day before, so we walked over there, then slowly walked up and down the gallop a mile each way.

We saw Peacocks, Commas, Brimstones as well as Orange underwing moths, but no Large torties.

We knew that most of them emerge after midday, so with it being half twelve, thoughts turned to whether we should go to the other site, the crossroads.

I had done 14,000 steps already, and my right knee was getting sore, so I said I would stay and walk back down the third gallop, and see if I got lucky.

I bet you'll see one and get shots, Fran said.

Indeed.

They had been gone less than ten minutes when movement caught my eye, and a butterfly landed in the mud about 5m from where I was.

Probably a Comma again, I thought.

As I was looking into the sun, the light shone through its wings, revealing the parallel vertical bars meaning it was a Large tortoiseshell.

I edge closer, got shots, then called Fran to tell her I had one, and it was still beside me. She got the message although the signal broke up.

I waved to two others to come over, they struggled with the deep mud, but as soon as the guy made it, I moved and the butterfly flew off.

But he had binoculars, and he followed the insect up into the trees, where it perched. Fran arrived, and we talked, then there was more movement, as it came down to a lower branch, before gliding back to the ground for more puddling and basking.

There were perhaps eight to ten of us, so we formed a ring a short distance from the butterfly, and we all got shots, while the butterfly showed no signs of moving.

Job done.

Shall we get a dink I asked Fran.

Yes, a drink would be great.

So we walked back to the car all of a dither as the excitement faded, then drove from the wood to Ivychurch, to the pub next to the church, where nursing cold drinks we dined on cheesy chips in the beer garden, while half a dozen Peacocks fluttered about.

I took Fran back to Herne Bay, driving along the coast to Hythe, then up to the motorway and up Stone Street, onto the A2 and up to Faversham before taking Thanet Way back east.

And after dropping Fran off, back to the Thanet Way, to Ramsgate and then to Sandwich, Deal and home, driving back through the late afternoon golden light.

Quite the day.

Summer was garlic chicken and stir fry with noodles, done in twenty minutes. While I was away, Jools had done lots of gardening, and had just sat down, so dinner would be welcome.

And that was the day.

No football in the evening as we were pooped and so went to bed before nine.

Wednesday 18th March 2026

The Kent Church Project, which I grandly names the process of visiting churches in the Garden of England, with the aim to record the exterior and interior of each of the parish churches, or at least the listed ones, began in July 2009.

And the two questions I get are:

1. How many churches are there in Kent?

2. How many more do you have to do?

The answer to both is: it depends.

Kent is not the same now as it was in Hastead's day, a chuck is now part of Greater london.

This is modern Kent.

But historical Kent includes places like St Mary Cray and Bromley.

Jools goes to an art group in Bromley once a month. I was to go with her last month but the weather was supposed to be cold and wet, so I bailed. But this month, on Wednesday, was to be the warmest day of the year thus far.

It was agreed I would catch the ten to nine train, Jools would follow 90 minutes later after her fitness class, and we would meet up for lunch, then either I stay in the pub drinking beer all afternoon to half five, or I come home.

And whilst in Bromley I would visit their parish church. I checked lots of times that it would be open, so all was set.

Jools dropped me off at ten past eight. I went to the buffet and bought a tea and breakfast wrap. It was bland, but warm, and the tea passable.

Then onto the platform, over the bridge and down onto the island platforms of 1 and two, sit and wait for the train to come in.

It was warm even before nine, so I took shots of the waiting Javelin and the station before sitting down to wait some more.

The train rattled in, and we few passengers got on, spreading ourselves out over the four carriages, all ready for the off.

I use this line when I go to Canterbury, but its maybe fifteen yeas since I went to Rochester and Chatham and beyond.

Beyond Rochester be dragons.

The train skipped two stations, so the next was Bromley, my stop. So I got off the now busy train, up more steps and out through the barriers into the town, on the main street.

London buses of various sizes ran up and down, London taxis waited for fairs outside the station. It looked and felt like London.

The church was up the high street about a quarter mile, then left at the junction, and was there, all churchy.

Rows of neat independent shops mixed with chains, all rather pleasing. And with street fruit and veg stalls offering over-ripe bargains.

I walked up, looked in at the jeweller, as my watch is playing up and Mr Timpson says he can't put another battery in it. That that battery cost ten quid to fit, than the actual value of the watch when I bought it.

However, the cheapest watch was £200, and that's without looking at the Rolexes.

I walked on to the church, where I found just the children's chapel was open, for private prayer.

I swore.

I was not happy. And wrote how unhappy I was about it in the visitors book.

It was then that I remembered the parish office was next door, so I may throw myself at their mercy and tell them my long and arduous journey up the line from Deepest Dover.

I knocked.

A lady came to the door, and as I explained that I had travelled nearly an hour and twenty minutes just to see the church, she asked if I'd like to see inside now.

I would.

So I was let in, but told I had to be done by midday for the next service.

I had an hour. More than enough time.

The church burned was destroyed in 1941, and the present church built, but the original tower was kept.

So the modern church is plain, but pleasing to the eye, with nice modern glass, textiles and wall paintings.

I helped set up the communion table, or at least move it into place. And was done, so I tanked all who made my visit so enjoyable, and set off back into the town.

Now, if only I could find a barbers.

The first one I came to had frosted glass, so I didn't bother opening the door. The second one, opposite the station was busy, but on one waiting.

I went in.

I was in the chair within five minutes, and chatting long to the barber as he shorn my locks.

Bromley he thought, when asked, is both Kent and London. He liked it, but then he grew up in St Mary Cray which he made sound like 80s Compton in downtown LA.

Just down the street was the 'Spoons, where I was to meet Jools. I don't normally darken their door, but just once won't hurt.

I bought a pint of elderflower bitter (!) and sat to wait for Jools to arrive on her train at ten past midday.

She arrived, so I had already bought her a cider. We ordered food and waited, where behind Jools was a bank of noisy flashing one armed bandits, as we used to call them.

I had Korean chicken burger, which was crap. The chips were OK, and the onion rings greasy.

But it was cheap, and a pint of Leffe Golden ale was only four quid.

I'd sleep well on the train back home.

I caught the two o'clock train, it was mighty busy, but I got a seat, but not near the window so closed my eyes as the train rattled back south.

At Faversham I got a window seat, so enjoyed watching the countryside roll past until most folks got off at Canterbury, leaving a few of us to go all the way to Dover.

I drove back home, put the kettle on and in my usual manner whiled away 90 minutes, and soon it would be time to collect Jools.

The cats were fed, curtains closed and heating turned up a notch.

Out in the car, driving through the gloaming of a just set sun, past the Castle and down into town, parking outside the station for Jools's arrival.

And once she climbed in the car, I turned round and we went back to Townwall Street, up Jubilee Way to home, where darkness had fallen.

The kettle was boiled, brews made.

The evening was spent listening at first to Newcastle being crushed by Barcelona, then Liverpool easing to a 4-0 win. Sadly, Norwich lost to Southampton, 1-0, despite dominating the game.

So it goes. So it goes.