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.

Tuesday 20th October 2026

The weather forecast for the day was grim: rain, getting heavier through the day, so we had to be prepared, coats and brollies.

I overslept to ten past seven, so got up and went down for breakfast, then back to the room so to keep on top of the blog and shots.

Batteries needed charging, shots needed backing up, and the other stuff, so that come half nine, we all gathered out the front of the hotel and boarded the coach.

We rolled through the campus, and edged out onto the main road, heading to the outskirts of the city to Wollaton, where we parked near the village shelter/market cross, with a fine looking pub and the church behind the coach.

The overcast day meant a series of gloomy and dark churches was to follow, and I did my best with the stained glass at St Leonard. Particularly fine was a pair of adjacent windows o featuring St George and St Michael the Archangel, though the colours were really vibrant with your eye.

Another highlight were two cadaver tombs, though the second had the figure hidden behind carved screen making it almost impossible to see and photograph.

Back on the coach for the short drive to Stapleford, a busy village-cum-suburb where our driver dropped us off on the side of the main street, leaving us to dash between the traffic to the church.

Highlight here was in the churchyard, the Saxon Stapleford Cross, grade 1 listed.

While inside a comprehensive introduction to the church and its history meant we only had a few minutes to explore the church before we had to leave and board the bus.

We then had a half hour drive through more industrial, and post industrial towns and landscapes, crossing the main line and Erewash into Derbyshire.

Up through the village of Sandiacre, up and up, along a narrow residential street, then over a crossroad up into Church Lane, a dead end lane that the coach could barely get up.

At the top site St Giles, overlooking the valley into Nottinghamshire and its village.

Through the churchyard filled with stones standing at all angles, except straight, and into the porch, through into the church where we were confronted by a Norman chancel arch, with a dazzling Victorian east window beyond.

In pillars supporting the arch, on one side a carving that might be of either a ghost or a dragon, and on the other side, the famous Sandiacre Imp, a bug-eyed alien figure.

A short talk was given of the history, then we were allowed to explore and take shots.

Up the hill and over the M1 was our lunch stop: The Stanhope Arms, where our coach almost blocked the road through the village. Upstairs was a buffet meal, where we took a break from churches and snapping.

Back into Nottinghamshire, and on a road in rolling parkland sits All Saints.

The rain had still yet to arrive, so we made hay with our fourth church of the day.

In the Chancel beyond, underneath a painted ceiling, six misericords, two with carvings on the seats, one was a Sheela-na-gig, though some parts were missing, and hidden between each seat were carved faces, crudely done, easily missed.

Coffee and chocolate digestives were provided by the warden, making a most excellent visit.

Beside a main road sits St Patrick. Built of sandy-coloured stone, its the tower that takes the eye. Almost castle-like, not so tall, but squat. And it is the tower, or the lower courses of stones that is the oldest.

Inside the church has a fine Rood Screen, the lower half Victorian, but the upper half much older, and has carved beasts if you look carefully.

In a nice touch, it has some fine 20th century pews, each with modest carvings on the end, but one was a Green Man, something also easily overlooked.

Its always the details.

Back into Nottingham now, as the evening drew in early, mixing with heavy rush hour traffic, which took us past former lace factories, and other former industrial sites now retail units or super gyms.

Holy Trinity sits down a quiet street, a huge Victorian pile that dots cities and large town all over the country.

These are rarely unlocked, but this was for us.

Inside, the church is mostly now a community space, with no pews or chairs laid out, instead there are stacks of metal framed chairs to position where needed.

It is a huge space, with fine windows, but the gathering gloom meant those on the north wall were impossible to photograph well, though enough light to the south to get shots of the windows there.

Most impressive here is the 11th century Romanesque font, brought from a nearby monastery, and looks very out of place in its modern surroundings. Its square, or almost, and highly carved, but worn, on all four sides.

It is a remarkable survivor, and more remarkable to find it in Holy Trinity.

Outside it was almost dark, and the rain had begun to fall. We climbed back onto the coach, and our driver took us back the short drive to the hotel, giving us 90 minutes before dinner to relax, and do admin.

The restaurant was crazy busy, and the food took some time to arrive, and as is common in such places, portions not generous, but the food good.

Monday 19th October 2026

And so, once again, I am on my travels.

And Monday was brought to you by track defect at Stratford International.

I actually laid in to gone six, so late it was nearly seven. Giving me two hours to get my act together.

I had coffee, had a shave and shower, dressed, before packing and getting the camera gear packed, checking memory cards and batteries.

A post from Southeastern suggested ten minute delays at Stratford due to a track defect. No worries, I have 40 minutes to get my connection at St Pancras.

So, come quarter past eight, Jools drove me to Priory station, so I could catch the ten to nine train.

The train was eight minutes late, but could make that up after Ashford, no?

No, the track defect issue was ongoing, and would delay us further. But up to Dagenham all was fine, as we plunged into the tunnel under east London.

The the train slowed.

To a crawl.

Time passed, continents moved.

We crawled into Stratford. Half my 40 minutes was gone, any more crawling then I would miss my connection.

But soon after leaving the station, all horses were engaged and we sped up, but I had seventeen minutes to get along the platform, through the gates, across to the other side of the station, up again, then find a seat on the 11:35 train to Nottingham.

I made it with 4 minutes to spare, my hands shaking so bad I couldn't get my ticket in the reader at first.

But then did.

I got a seat at a table, opposite a student who took notes, tapped at her computer, laughed at her phone, then wrote more notes, tapped furiously at her laptop. And so on.

We slipped through London, I saw West Hamstead, but after that we were going to fast to see names of stations. And suddenly out into the countryside.

At Leicester, loads of folks got on for the fifteen minute rattle up to Nottingham, but they all got on, and I looked out of the window.

There was a refreshment trolley, so I bought some crisps, but they had no Coke, only diet. So I bought wine instead.

Wine in a can.

We arrived at Nottingham on time, but I had forty minutes to kill, so found a micropub on the corner of the main street and made a half of maple porter vanish in a couple of gulps.

Now, where to meet the coach and the leader? His mail just said Nottingham station. Its a big place.

So a couple of others on the tour and myself, stood on the side of the street watching buses come and go. No coach.

John appears like the shopkeeper in Br Ben, and says to go down the side of the station, and the coach will be down there.

So our little flock, dragging cases, made our way through the students and shoppers, and there on the left was a half sized coach.

The driver loaded our cases, and we climbed in. And once we were all aboard, we set off across the city, over the tram tracks into a housing estate that used to be meadows.

Water meadows.

And there was the Victorian pile of St George.

The driver let us off outside, and we filed in, to see what had been created at the height of the industrial revolution to serve the rows of workers' houses.

St George is an Anglo-Catholic church, with all the bells and whistles you'd expect. But in a good way.

We had a warm welcome from the priest, who waved enthusiastically as described his church. The large golden curtain behind the altar was very fetching.

I foolishly left my big lens on the bus, so didn't get close up shots of the fine windows, but that wasn't a mistake I'll make again.

Back on the bus again for the short hop to Gotham.

Yes, you read that right, Batman!

We drove for half an hour through countryside filled with fields and small sandy-coloured stone built villages, until we came to Gotham.

Parking near a shelter, bedecked with flowers, the church rises with its spire pointing to the sky.

Inside, two impressive memorials were our main point of interest, on walls stripped of plaster so showing the rough-cut stone from which the church was built.

The cooling towers of the now redundant Ratcliffe on Soar power station are visible for miles around, but our way to the final church of the day was right past them, and the spire of the fine village church could be glimpsed as we joined the dual carriageway heading, possibly, west.

The church of Barton in Fabis is very simmilar to that of Ratcliffe, set down a quiet village street, and the same stone spire we saw at Gotham.

Inside there were tombs, an ancient clock mechanism, and a heraldic memorial, quite splendid.

But time had now beaten us, we were behind schedule, and had to get to our hotel near the university. And getting there meant mixing with the rush hour traffic.

Towns and villages blur into each other, as the main roads leaps from roundabout to roundabout, but our driver knows the way and the correct lane to be in, so gets us there for half five.

A modern pile, four star, with a large lobby and dining area.

We get our keys, and so have an hour before lunch to unpack and freshen up, before meeting at seven for drinks and taking to our tables.

Talk was of churches, of course, as we waited for our meals to arrive, it being busy meant that we didn't finish until well after nine, by which time Spurs were 2-1 up, and as I listened to the radio, score a third in injury time.

Three churches down, just seventeen to go!

Sunday 18th October 2026

Sunday again.

And with my brain not letting me lie in, I was up at half five, when its still technically night as its dark outside.

But accept coffee from my dear Jools and try to wake up.

The day was supposed to be filled with thunder and rain, only no one told Mother Nature, and we got only rain.

All day.

At first there was no rain, then drizzle, then thick cloud swept over, and soon day was turned to night, and it did rain.

But before then there was the gym and phys.

It would have been easy to bail, but we went and did fifty minutes, with me on the higher resistance again.

Back home and had a brew and breakfast, but then the clouds came and brought rain.

Lots of rain.

So for the morning we did our hobbies to the soundtrack from Huey, that was until nearly two when the football began.

We had pizza before the kick off, while outside the rain came down, turning earth to mud. But it will do the garden good.

There was football. Man Utd at Leeds. Ended in a 1-1 draw with neither being very good. Then Arsenal at Forest, during which I swapped messages with my Gooner-supporting friend in the US. Arse scored in the last ten minutes to win, and just about deserved it.

Night came early, and was chilly. So we put the heating on.

On Monday I go travelling again, up north. Or halfway north.

Saturday 17th October 2026

It am the weekend. Again.

And I could lay in to six as the gym opens an hour later.

But my brain had me awake soon after five, so I do get up, and after coffee, we had time to go to Tesco again first, then to the gym for phys.

Which is what we do.

Tesco is pretty empty of customers, but lots of folks filling up shelves. So, we dash round getting stuff for the week, though I will be away for four days, so Jools gets stuff easy to cook.

And at the end, a bill of less than sixty quid!

We drive the four hundred yards to the sports centre, then go to wait the five minutes before the doors are opened, and we restless can sweep in, up the stairs onto our machines of torture.

I do fifty minutes again, so with the two loops round Tesco came to nearly 9,000 steps. Before breakfast.

Back home, and pack away, while we boil the kettle at the same time, so we can slump into our chairs for a relaxing brew.

I have a shower, and when done, the bright low sunshine pours in through the window, casting crepuscular rays in the steam.

I take a shot.

Get dressed, then downstairs to listen to the last of Radcliffe and Maconie, before switching to Huey on Virgin Radio. Five hours of cool music passes, and for the last two hours I watch Watford v Charlton, which the home team wins 2-0.

Then to the main batch of games, watching Final Score on the telly whilst listening to Radio 5 on the phone.

Norwich lost for the 6th game in a row, 1-0 to a poor Pompy, while Ipswich nearly cause an upset at Cheaters FC, losing 3-2 to Citeh.

Between games we have burgers for our main meal, then some Polish saltsticks as I watched Villa beat the Toon, in a fairly entertaining game.

And the day had passed.

Friday 16th October 2026

It's nearly the weekend again.

An attempt to lay in was foiled by my brain, waking me up just after five.

I tried to lay in bed and drop back off, but a cute black and white kitten jumped on the bed, so I got up so not to be pinned there for the day.

It was going to be a fine, late autumn day. Cool to start, but warming up quickly, and warm enough to sit on the patio.

Which I did.

As usual, Jools went to yoga, and I did the bins, then finished my coffee, and checked on the world.

Not much to report for the morning. Jools returned, had breakfast and was off an hour later to taxi her bevvy of ladies to the library, all the more difficult with the gas board digging up Kingsdown Road.

After lunch, Jen came round so we could find a way to upload pictures from her old phone onto her new on.

Was more difficult that it should have been, but buried in a sub-menu, there was a box to tick, then when connected to my laptop, I could import the 290 shots of her friends in that Australia from her last two trips.

She stayed for dinner. I made pasta bolognaise and garlic bread, as well as opening a bottle of XV.

Cheers.

I thought I had done well in the music quiz, but got the answer wrong to make it nul points in three quizzes, but taking part is the fun.

Some Championship footy in the evening, but I give up at half time and head to bed.