The Weekend and beyond.

Good afternoon, and welcome to Tuesday here in the Garden of England. That's Kent for those of you that have not been paying attention. It seems that spring has arrived, or at least for a while; the sun is shining, the sky is blue, there are lambs in the fields, spring flowers are out raising their heads to the sun and spring bulbs are shooting up. heck, it's almost warm out there; I have just got the first load of washing of the year that has dried outside, the birds are not so manic for the seeds i put out and inside I have put the chicken and vegetables in the marinade all afternoon.

So, where were we?

Well, Friday evening, the planned trip to the monthly pub quiz did not happen because Jools was tired after what had been a very busy week at work, and so a relaxing night in was called for.

Saturday dawned bright and dry, and because the forecast for Sunday was grim and getting grimmer by the hour, we decided to head out in the car to walk and and for me to take some pictures. We thought, or rather, I thought that we should go to Margate, as we had not been there for a while, and there really is nothing like a seaside town out of season. Not that that is a bad thing, I like the faded seaside glamour thing that such towns have, and Margate was one of the grandest of these towns, although very much down on its luck these days. It is having an art gallery built, the Tate Contemporary, and that should be wonderful when it is finished. Also, the town is being spruced up, but the promenade is so large and long that will take a long time to do, but in places it gleams with fresh paint and repairs.

To get to Margate we drove up along the coast to Ramsgate to see how the building of the windfarm was going, before heading inland missing out the narrow lanes of Broadstairs before arriving at Margate.

We parked at the Lido, which was once a huge salt water pool and leisure complex; but now stands pretty much abandoned and derelict. I still love the lines of the place, and the bright red tiles of the Lido's roofs. But the light was not good really, and so we set off down to promenade towards the harbour and the new gallery.



It was high tide, and for a change the handful of fishing boats were floating whilst tied up, and we walked along the arm of the harbour to get views over to the town and beyond. A cafe was open, with no customers, the waitress looked at us hopefully as we walked past, but we did not go in.



Back along the harbour, we crossed the main road into the maze of small streets until we came into the centre of the old town. And it was rather wonderful, old buildings and shops were arranged round a large square, onto which the town hall, or rather town halls had been built. The two buildings joined by a first story walkway, but now no longer the centre of local government, it is a tourist information office.



Thirsty, we find a cafe and go in: and inside it is like an explosion in a tinsel factory! There are Christmas trees in every corner, tinsel from every available surface, and hundreds of pictures fulling up the walls. It was called The Mad hatters, and the owner came to greet us dressed in white shirt and waistcoat with a very tall top hat.



I have tea and a slice of fresh cream Victoria Sponge whilst Jools has coffee and a fresh cream and jam scone; all freshly baked and delicious.

On the wall nearest us, was what can only be described as a shrine to the late Princess of Wales: all commemorative plates, cups and dozens of pictures, and a sign saying that she was the personality of the 20th century. Not something I would readily agree with, but each to their own.



So, we walk back to the sea front, round the harbour on the land side before heading back to the car, via the town centre; the town centre with the most closed shops in Britain, apparently. All the bargain fashion shops are doing a roaring trade, between the charity shops and closed businesses.

Back in the car we head back for Dover and where we will brew a fresh pot of coffee and have something to eat. I sit on the sofa and listen to the football and rugby on the radio, whilst the computer chatters to updates from Norwich's latest game.

At five I prepare dinner; steak and ale pie with roast potatoes, fresh vegetables and gravy. It was wonderful too, nice and warming as the end of the day outside turned to rain.

Sunday was every bit as wet as promised; and then some. We sat inside doing our respective hobbies. Beading for Jools and photography for me, before we get the board game out in the afternoon to play Uckers; something that is almost a religion in the military. Think of it as Ludo with attitude. I had been wanting to play Jools at it for ages; well, teach her to play, and now that we had a Ludo board we could. As I supposed I should have expected, i lost and Jools won her first ever game; it happens. And then I settled down to watch the Old Firm game on TV and then the League Cup Final, or whatever it's called these days.

And then the day was over, night came and we watched the final part of a short series of Indian Hill Railways; more places we would like to visit!

Monday dawned gloriously sunny with clear blue skies: i decided to have the car and go out taking some pictures. I am really loving the project to photograph all these Kentish churches, and as I have done most in the Dover area, I make a list of some to snap and head out into the sunshine.

Whilst passing through deal, I see two more not on the Grade 1 list, but stop and snap them anyway. The day is still frosty but bright and wonderful to out and about in.

On the way to Sandwich I spy the spire of another church, and head into the village of Worth to snap its church. St Peter and St Paul has a wonderful wooden spire, and is perfect in its village setting. Sadly, it's not open, but I am happy enough to photograph it's exterior.

Next, it was out into the Kentish countryside to a small village called Staple where the Church of St James the Great sits on a small hill up the main road through the village. It has a bright red tiled roof on its tower and main body, and looks perfect with the spring leaves on the trees and against the clear blue sky. it as well is closed, and so make for the village of Goodnestone.



The Church of the Holy Cross lays at the end of the main street through the village, right where the road passes on the land of the local landowner and it becomes private. The church stands on a low hill behind a hedge, and so after walking up the steps and through the foliage, one is greeted by the black glinting church. For it is covered with knapped black flint bricks, and looks wonderful. It is an imposing building, especially for the size of village, but splendid nonetheless. I could not go inside, even though the door was open, because it is being restored, and so a return visit in the summer is called for when the Norman interior should be pristine.



Even I admit there is too much of a good thing, and so after this 5th church of the morning I decided to head back, but not before trying to find one more. But it is down the end of a private lane, behind an imposing house, and I'm not sure whether I should be driving down the road; I turn round and decide to investigate online before coming back another day.



I cook roast chicken, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and lots of vegetables for dinner; and it is very good, even if I say so myself.

This morning I head out to Folkestone on the hunt for another church, this one in the Elham Valley in the village of Lyminge. St Mary and St Ethelburga promises to be special, as the current church is built on the ruins of a 7th century chapel. And indeed it is.

Once again the sun rose into a clear blue sky, and you really get the feeling that spring has sprung as you drive through the narrow Kentish lanes.



The church lay on the top of the valley sides, overlooking the town, and looks fine if not spectacular. Once parked the car, i walk round the front of the church and up the steps and am confronted with the path going under the arch of a flying buttress at one corner of the church. It looks very unusual indeed, doubly so as this is the only buttress of the church.



Halfway along the southern side of the church is a stone built into the body of the church, marking the spot where St Ethelburga is buried; she died in AD 647, and I was stunned to think of all that history.



I get shots from outside the church, then head back to the road and call at a house opposite to collect keys for the door of the church, and then return to see what delights lay inside.



The eastern part of the church appears to be Saxon, and is in wonderful condition, with simple arched windows and centuries of memorials to the parish's good and great adorning the wall. I see from the history, this part dates from about AD 965, and I can believe that. (I will post shots of the inside later, promise).

I snap and snap as the light pours in through the stained glass windows, throwing coloured patterns onto the Saxon wall to the north, it is wonderful I have to say.

I snap away, taking shots from all angles until I am happy, and then leave, drop the key through the letterbox of the keeper, and head off in the car once more.

I decide to do one more church, as the clouds are already thickening, and so head up the other side of the valley to Acrise. As is typical around here, the roadsigns are at best, confusing, and after many wrong turns I arrive at a crossroads in a wood, and on the signpost it says the church is through the hedge to my left.

I walk though, and along a short tree-lined avenue to a small chapel with a wooden tower. It is locked fast, so I make do with shots of the outside. It is moss covered from all the trees and lack of light, but is wonderfully simple, being made of two simple rectangular buildings, joined together. It seems to have been a private church for the large house just visible through the trees, though that is now apartments. Snowdrops are everywhere, inbetween the graves, and look wonderful too.

It is getting near lunchtime, and so I head home rather than seek out a country pub, so to save some money.