Sunday 25th October 2026

At two in the morning, the clocks went back, bringing GMT back to the United Kingdom. Meaning lighter mornings, but darker and earlier evenings.

We did lay in bed, and slept through our extra hour. Jools got up at six to feed the cats, and I slept on to half past, woke feeling refreshed.

I do read old blog posts from each of the preceding ten years, and I see from last year that that week was when we switched to going to the gym really early to avoid crowds and to ensure our machines would be free.

This meant on weekdays being at the doors for six, and seven at weekends.

Which we did this weekend.

As usual, the gym was pretty empty at a minute past seven, although the speakers did boom our Europop to no one, as we all pretty much have headphones on, which we have to have turned up the volume so to drown out the Eurodisco.

One of which was a reworking of "You've Got the Love", which was itself a reworking and mash up of two older songs: an instrumental, and a vocal by Candi Staton. That was a hit when I was going through trade training in 1991, and I remember it booming out of boomboxes as we bulled and studied.

We both did our fifty minutes, then after a short cooling down outside in the sunshine, we went to Tesco to fill the car up, then to the Promenade for a walk.

In a change from the two previous days, and the two following days, Sunday was gloriously sunny, though with a stiff westerly.

It was too rough and too near high tide for anyone to be swimming. No Sean and Ange, so we walked down the promenade and over the new bridge before turning for home, when the café under the clock tower said we were too early as opening time was still five minutes away.

So we saved our money and walked back to the car, me doing some light botanising on the way on the few flowering plants on the edge of the stony beach, before reaching the car and climbing in.

A quiet morning, so we drove back to Townwall Street, then along to the port and up Jubilee Way, free of traffic as there were no ferries in.

Once home we put the kettle on, and in a change had a shortcake each which I had made between halves of football the previous day.

And a very good start to the day it was.

I had another shower, changed and so was set for an afternoon of football. Or in the case of Manchester United, an attempt at football.

Lunch was our old favourite of chorizo hash, all prepared, cooked and eaten before kick off at two, at which point the week of preparation for Man Utd was for naught, as opposition, Bournemouth, had already in the six days before beaten both Sunderland and AC Milan (!), so the current iteration of The Red Devils would pose no serious issues.

So it was that Russian monied Bournemouth cruised to a 3-0 victory, and on another day might have scored more. In their last four visits they have won 3-0 three times and had a 4-4 draw!

Much less said about the second game, Sunderland v Leeds, which due to storm force winds was something of a bore-fest.

And as the commentator stated there had not been a 0-0 draw in between the two teams in living memory, it was then inevitable that it did end 0-0.

Disunited they fall

I was going to write about Manchester United on Wednesday after they were thrashed by Como in their first season in the CL, but held off.

And so today, United were thrashed again, this time by Bournemouth at the Theatre of Revised Expectations in Salford.

Should manager, Michael Carrick be sacked?

Would make no difference, as it doesn't address the real problem at the club.

And that is thirteen years of terrible decisions, poor recruitment, unable to develop most young players, and when the going gets tough: sack the manager.

Until the root cause, the terrible run club above the manager.

The latest terrible idea was to change the forward line in the summer of 2025, the midfield in the summer of 2026, and the defence next summer. Only good teams are built on strong defence, and while that is as old and injury-prone as it is, United will conceed more than they score more often than not.

As a club, not to have any apparent idea on how the team should play, and recruit and develop players to feed into that vision means that it falls on coaches and managers to try to fix the mess.

And that is impossible while having to provide good results.

It used to be said that clubs like United were two games from a crisis. That's no longer the case, when winnin titles or getting into Europe swing on small differences.

Its not as if the rebuilding over the last two summer transfer windows have actually fixed the apparrent issues with the forward line and midfield. The more the personel changes, the more the issues remain the same.

So here we are: another crisis with the manager about to be sacked, like the guy from Portugal before him, like the Dutch guy before that, that Austrian coach before that, that former legend of a former player before him, beofre the grumpy Portugese guy, before the grumpy dutch guy, and before the Scot that Sir Alex recommended.

Nothing has worked, managers and coaches of all kinds and styles. All with the same result. So, go ahead, sack the coach again, and let the cycle repeat.

Madness is repeating the same mistakes and expect a different result.

Rinse and repeat.

Saturday 24th October 2026

Its the weekend again already. So its time to go to the gym. But with checking the freezer and larder, it seemed we could do without going to Tesco at least until Monday. So there's that. Saturday dawned bright and sunny, once the sun had risen, which wasn't until we had drunk coffee and driven to the sports centre. This was the last day of BST, the clocks were to go back at 02:00 Sunday morning, so it will be lighter in the mornings. For a time. But darker, earlier in the evenings. Or afternoons. A second named storm, Storm Boelo, was to sweep through after lunch, so once back home, best make use of the sunshine, while it lasted.

So nice was it, that it seemed impossible we were to get twelve hours of gales and heavy rain, but the storm had already hit the West Country, so it seemed it would.

So, just after eleven, the clouds built, and the winds increased, but no rain.

Yet.

For the afternoon there was the "joy" of watching Norwich at Charlton. City were on a six game losing streak, so it seemed hopeless.

Doubly so when after five minutes, while trying to play out from the back, Charlton nicked the ball, played it forward to their centre-forward, and he scored from an acute angle.

For the next ten minutes, Norwich were in danger of being blown away by a team in the middle of their own slump.

But, City levelled, and for the remainder of the first half, Norwich had their tails up.

Confidence is a funny thing, you could see Charlton lose theirs, and we hoovered it up.

A fine second shortly after half time, and a deflected cross gave us a third.

But City still were shaky, and nothing was certain until the referee blew after eight minutes of injury time.

At the same time, Villa beat Citeh, so two good results.

Then on the sofa to listen to the radio, and watch the scores on Final Score.

That was followed by Chelsea v Spurs. Spurs had not won there since the last century, and only once on 40 years.

So a 2-0 victory to them was a surprise.

At three the rain began to fall, and battered the back of the house hour after hour. The wind howled, and the cats refused to go out.

It was still bucketing down when we went to bed just before nine.

Friday 23rd October 2026

Somehow it's Friday again.

But I am back home. As nice as travel and mixing with like-minded people can be, its still good to be home.

That being said, I have another 2,000 give or take, pictures to edit and post.

A couple of weeks ago, I said that we had not had an autumn storm so far this year, as there had been no Atlantic hurricanes.

Well, it's good to know Mother Nature reads these posts, as not only was there a hurricane last week, but we have three successive days with named storms sweeping across the country.

And it was raining when we got up, so dressing in waterproof jacket was needed to put out the bins, and making sure they'd not blow away as the winds built through the morning.

It wasn't cold, but felt it. And by ten the gales were sweeping the rain across the Dip, so the cats just slept on.

The bins were collected as soon as they were emptied, so they did not end up on Station Road or beyond.

While I was away, I received three books on the churches of Kent from a good friend, so spent the afternoon enjoying reading descriptions on how some familiar, and unfamiliar churches were in the early 1970s.

Scully enjoyed having me sit next to her, so she slept on, even happier once I put the heating on.

We had defrosted and warmed ragu for dinner, all eaten in time for the start of the quiz, which I fail to guess until it was too late.

And finally, Ipswich v Forest on the TV, and in an entertaining game, Forest were the better team, but fluffed their lines and finishing, and so the game ended 1-1.

Play it at your sister!

1976, it is believed, was the year of punk.

It wasn't.

Punk really exploded the following year with the Jubilee and all that.

And shortly after it ate itself and became new wave, post punk and so on.

Punk may well have died when The Clash signed for CBS.

However, the first punk record, single, was released on 22nd October 1976, before then there were no punk records, which is why Don Letts played dub at The Roxy, and afterwards there was a link between the two genres.

And it wasn't the Sex Pistols who released that first single, Anarchy in the UK wasn't released for another five week at the end of November. And then came Bill Grundy, and music wouldn't be the same again.

That first single was by The Damned, and was, of course, New Rose.

It begins with the same phrase as Leader of the Pack: Is she really going out with him?

And its fair to say, there the similarities end.

Drum kicks in, and then the geetars, and Dave opens his mouth, and something new comes out.

Anyway, a day late, but Happy Birthday.

Thursday 22nd October 2026

I slept for some eight hours, waking just once and soon slipping back to sleep soon after.

So, I woke up, finding it still dark. What would the time be: five? Six?

It was twenty past six, and time to get up, and be ready for breakfast at seven, so to beat the rush.

We same three who met the previous two mornings were there, so we sat at the same table and chatted. About churches.

Back to the room to pack, check, and recheck the room to make sure I hadn't left anything behind.

Down at reception at five past nine, no bill to pay, so wait outside for the coach to come and the driver load our cases, then to be ready to move just before nine.

One member of the tour, the guy I helped the day before, decided to drive home, so we waved him off, then the coach back up and we turned for the city, and the short drive to the first church.

Daybrook used to have one of the largest breweries in the city, and the owner's money went partly on the chuch.

St Paul is a huge Victorian building, partly Gothic, with a tower reaching for the heavens.

But the keyholder wasn't there, so we waited on the street until the doors magically swung open.

It is a magnificent Victorian church, John says is one of the best and largest of its type, the type that are scattered across London, and towns and cities up and down the land.

The windows were excellent, and I took approx 300 shots of them!

Nearby is the suburb, as it is now, of Arnold.

St Mary is an ancient parish, and the church is late 13thC and early 14th. Prize item of interest here is an Easter Sepulchre on the north wall of the Chancel.

After introduction to the church, we were left to explore and taker shots, while there was tea and coffee on offer, and the church was filled with the sound of joyful chatter, our hosts smiled to see their church full with people who also loved the building.

Another short drive away, is Papplewick.

Yes, Papplewick.

We were dropped off on a bend, then left with a five minute walk up a long path to the church, which was hiding behind a huge yew tree, that was surrounded by a circular bench.

The church, a small Georgian affair.

I mean, who hasn't enjoyed a small Georgian affair?

Narrow with pews on either side, and a wafer thin gallery on the west end and north side, leading almost to the Chancel.

We were given a short potted history of the church, then allowed to take shots. Exploring wouldn't take long.

Back along the path to the coach, and on the way I snapped several flowering native plants: White deadnettle, Red deadnettle, Shepherd's purse, and Common groundsel.

The vicar from Papplewick also looks after Linby, so he followed us in his car, so to open the church for us.

Which would have been great if he had remembered to bring the church keys with him.

There was a short delay while he ran over to the churchwarden's house for a spare set, then opened up the small church for us.

Another ancient, part Saxon church, now stripped of its plastered walls, so the rough Saxon coursework turns to neater Norman work further up the walls.

A pair of Saxon arches was on the south wall of the Chancel, very much the twin of the same at lyminge.

Time was now getting away from us, especially as we were to be back at Nottingham station for half two, so to be able to catch the ten to three train.

Just one last church of the day, tour, and indeed, the final church John would take a tour round, as he retires once this tour finishes.

Into the centre of Hucknall for this then, the final church.

St Mary sits on the edge of a small square, opposite the stops for what counts as the bus station. Its fencing has been covered in knitted poppies of all sizes, and looked magnificent in the strong, low sunshine.

Inside, there were three things to enjoy: one, an almost complete set of Kempe windows, and most early unsigned ones at that too. Second, the burial place of Lord Byron of Rochdale. Yes, that Lord Byron; mad, bad and dangerous to know. And lastly, the burial place of his daughter, Ada, later Ada Lovelace, the mother of modern computing.

A café took up on transept, and the rest was quite busy, but the windows high enough for us to enjoy while not having others get in the way.

There was a LOT about Byron, of whom I know little other than his reputation.

We only had half an hour, and soon the sands of time had run out, so we walked back to the coach.

John said a few words once we were all on board, remarking his fifty years leading tours, and how grateful he was for those that attended, many every tour, but also for the time off he will now enjoy.

The bus took us back to Nottingham, round the one way system, and dropping us near to the back entrance of the station.

I grabbed by case, walked to the entrance, up the stairs to the footbridge, and found a train to London leaving at 14:12.

It was 14:11.

I ran down onto platform 3, and found all standard class carriages packed, not being able to get in the doors, due to the number of passengers already aboard.

I went to first class, and found I could upgrade for £21, and get free drinks and a snack meal. And a seat.

I paid and slumped into the seat as the train pulled out, an a guy brought me a tea as well as a small bag of crips and a shortbread biscuits.

We rolled through Loughborough to Leicester and Market Harborough before going non-stop to London.

I ate as the countryside rolled by.

Stations flashed by so quickly I couldn't make out their names, but soon we rolled through Luton slower so I could read its name, and I guess the Parkway station for the airport too.

Into London, and a walk to the end of the platform, down the escalators, under the Eurostar platforms and I saw tat a train to Dover was due to leave at 16:04.

Damn, missed it.

Then I saw delayed to 16:07.

It was 16:06.

I went up to the platform, seeing that nice Mr Robin Ince on the way up. And on the upper level I saw the train still at the platform, and doors still open.

I flashed my ticket, ran to the train and got on, the buzzer sounded and the doors closed.

I would be back in Dover at twenty past five!

I called Jools and she would meet me at priory, and once people got off at Statford, I even had a seat.

Even if I did have to get off at Ashford to get on the first six coaches at the train split, but made it, had a seat, and on the last leg home.

Jools was waiting, we picked up a Chinese meal from Ladywell, then back home up Jubilee Way for supper and a beer.

Phew.

Wednesday 21st October 2026

My stupid brain had me awake at three in the morning, and I knew there was no going back to sleep.

So, I got up and began to write the blog for Tuesday, with brief descriptions of each church.

That took 90 minutes.

I also had a brew and ate the pack of two salted caramel cookies beside the kettle.

Before breakfast, I had a shower so was all nice and clean, so that come seven I could go down and be one of the first to eat, as I was hungry.

Fruit followed by sausages and bacon went down well, but the three cups of coffee went down well too, and would keep me awake!

We were all ready for the coach at half nine, with the sun shining from a cloudless sky, turning the autumnal leaves on the trees on campus into vivid yellows and reds.

First church was Edwalton. A small church, with Saxon roots, especially in the nave, with the walls leaning out at a remarkable angle, needing buttresses to keep them up.

We only needed twenty minutes there in order to see and snap the details. Outside it has possibly the ugliest buttress I have seen!

We stayed half an hour, then trapsed outside to the coach for the short drive to the next church.

Tollerton was once a small and rural village. A second more modern part was built half a mile away, meaning the new homes are not really connected with the church. Possibly, 4,000 new homes are to be built on a former air base, on the other side of the church, that might recentre the church in the centre of village life.

That being said, some churches were built beautiful, other grew old gracefully. Some, were mutilated by those who had the building in their care.

And St Peter has been mutilated on several occasions, by the owners of the large house next door. As fashions in house changed, so the house was rebuilt, and the church gutted to match.

The result is a church only the parishners could really love. At least from the gallery, it hides the worse excesses of the rebuilds and renovations.

We were treated to tea and biscuits here, and had an informative introduction.

Which was nice.

Highlight here is the collection of funerary hatchments, which were all over the walls.

The sky had clouded over, and rain began to fall, as forecasted. At least the heavy rain expected later didn't materialise.

St Mary is in the wonderfully name village of Plumtree. We scuttled from the coach to the porch, and were met my a stunning interior: painted and stencilled in the late 19thC, and looking wonderful, as it was renovated in the last couple of decades.

The glass was of a high standard too, and as a whole was probably the most satisfying church of the first three days of the tour.

I went to town snapping all I could.

From Plumtree, we drove to Normanton, a few miles away, for lunch at the Plough.

Another buffet was laid on, with fresh cooked fries as a bonus. The local ale was welcome too.

That set us well for the three churches of the afternoon.

Cropwell Bishop sounds like a minor character actor from the forties Ealing studio, but is a fine church set in a small village.

We arrived and the rain was coming down. Hard.

We scamper to the unusual arched porch entrance, which unusually had no door.

Inside we found a rustic interior, with the mediaeval pews having been replaced, but not discarded, instead placed around the edge of the church so they're not lost.

Each has carvings on the end, and some with faces below the foliage.

The church has some forty slate grave stones, all of which are listed by English Heritage, three of which are in the church, so are untouched by the centuries since their carvings.

Some churches are notable for unusual reasons. Tythby is one such church, in that it is a single church, but with two parishes. And each parish had half of the Nave each.

One side had box pews, whilst the other had benches. Although both parishes attended the same services.

Nothing prepares you for this from the outside, but each side seems to have a pulpit, with the one on the north side a triple deck one.

Again we received a warm welcome. And more tea and biscuits.

Which was nice.

Tythly had only the second Royal coat of arms we had seen in the 14 churches thus far. Not sure if this is a Nottinghamshire thing, of just a coincidence, but coats of arms in only 1 in seven churches visited seems too much of one.

Final stop was a large barn of a church, Langar.

Langar was constructed on a grand scale, and yet there was so much space that successive generations couldn't fill it, so it looks partly desserted.

Its a cruciform church, with north and south transepts, and each contains chest tombs, two on one side, and one the other, all highly carved, and splendid works. Yet the north is now a store room, so the once wealthy and great lay for eternity with chairs and ladders stacked against their final resting places.

In the Nave, there were modern chairs set on a red carpet, but arranged on a semi-circle facing an altar table to the north. And it wasn't clear if this was for some event, or more with some kind of non-conformist lay-out.

Apparently this is the more common lay-out, one which rather surprised the Bishop when he first visited the church.

We were done at half four, so boarded the coach, and Bob drove us back to the campus, passing by a recently occurred accident at a crossroads, where several cars had struck each other, and the emergency services had just arrived, so blue flashing lights everywhere, and the walking wounded hugging each other in relief.

We drove on.

And back to the hotel, and dinner at seven, where we sat round two long tables, most talking about churches. At least I was away from the guy who talked politics all through lunch.

There's that.

And light relief came from Manchester United who lost 4-1 at Como in the CL.