Saturday, Sunday

And so, it's another onday morning. Of course as I write this the country outside has ground to a halt as up to a foot of snow has fallen and caught England by surprise, and so trains are not running, neither are buses, schools are closed and any hill is being used for slides and sledges.

Saturday was much different; the sun shone and the wind did not blow. Jools had a beading class in Deal, a seaside town just north of here; and so we drove over and went for a walk along the pier to the new cafe they have just opened.



So, we sat in a modern, open plan building and ordered coffee and bacon butties. All around us outside, seagull circled as people cast lines into the sea below.Whilst she went for her class, I wandered around the town taking pictures and doing some shopping. Nothing interesting in the cool record shop; I bought a bag of organic vegetables in a produce shop; a couple of cakes and a canonbert cheese from another independant produce shop; a round cob loaf to spread the cheese on, and I was set. I bought a copy of the Times and found a pub overlooking the beach and the pier; bought another pint of foaming real ale and waited for Jools to finish.Then back home for some wonderful coffee to go along with our cheese and bread, and then sit and read whilst cats slept on our laps; the sun set outside, and all was right with the world.



I also bought a large scale OS map for the Romney Marsh, as there is a really photogenic church right in the middle of the marsh with no houses or buildings within miles. We poured over the map and Google Earth and found where St Thomas a Becket church, Fairfield was, and made plans to head out there, park a way off and walk there in the morning.

Sunday dawned grey and cloudy, but undaunted we set out along the coast road through Hythe, Romney and Dymchurch before heading into the marsh. We parked inbetween other cars; owned by fishermen who were trying their luck in the drainage ditches. We pulled on our layers of clothes, tightened our belts and set off down a wndy country lane.

The Romney Marsh is a flat area west of Folkestone, and a little piece of Norfolk in Kent. It is criss-crossed by drainage ditches, and full of wildlife. Most land is given over to farm animals. We passed the occasional farm, and a few isolated houses. Coming out of a small wood we saw the church, sitting on an island made by drainage ditches. It looked tiny under the huge skies, and as we got closer I took pictures.



A few centries ago, there was a town here, but after an Elizabethan storm the nearby river changed course, and the town seemed to have died and ther eis now no trace. Apart from the church. It is quite famous, at least for being so isolated and photogenic. Turned out there was a service going on, so we kept quiet outide, and just relished the quiet and the uniqueness of the church.



Near to where we parked the car was a country pub; The Woolpack was built in 1410; yes, 1410, and it looks it. It has tiny doors, low ceilings and is hopelessly small, but enough room for a few tables. From the wooden beams hops were tied up, slowly drying. At the other end of the bar from our table was an open fire; in the chimney brest there was a bench each side, and four people cupped pints of winter ale whilst they kept warm. There was no music, just a few editions of the quality Sunday papers, but that was enough.We ordered steak, ale and stilton pie; and waited for it to come. I drank from a pint of porter; a rich dark nutty real ale. The food was simple, but wonderful, and just perfect for a winters afternoon. Outside the snow began to fall, and we made plans to head home.



The journey back was through as near as a blizzard it gets over here; it made the trip back even prettier. Once back we put the coffee put back on, and plunged into a cup of Creme Brulee to go along with the white chocolate cheesecake I stopped off at Waitrose to buy.