Monday 2nd June 2014

Monday, and back at work, or a kind. I had to work from home as jools had another interview, which is important as sadly she did not get the job in Whitstable she went for the other week. Oh well, it goes one. I am feeling much better today, but still not good, I think one more night of good sleep and I will be back to normal. Once I can decide what normal is anyway.

Anyway, I bring you the events of the weekend.

Saturday.

I was awake before four, and as sleep seemed impossible for me, I got up, put on my dressing gown and went downstairs. I was surprised to see signs of brightness in the east of the sky from the kitchen. I made a coffee, and caught up on some mails, looked at some shots, fed the cats and generally whiled away the morning until the rest of the world woke up.

By six the sun had risen and I was feeling almost human. Jools got up, and a plan began to form, I would head to Preston for some meat first thing, and then we head to Tesco, and then Simon and I would head out on the church odyssey. Once he got up, Simon said he would join me on the trip to the butcher, which would also give us the opportunity to look at a few churches. After coffee we set off via the churches at Ringwold, Deal, Worth and Preston, and once we got the meat we called in at Elmstone, which was locked. BY this time the day was slipping away.

Once back home, Jools went to Tesco whilst Simon and I had breakfast, and at ten we set off for the wilds of Thanet and Minster. The sun was breaking through the clouds, which was rather nice, but it was mostly cloudy, but that would not dampen us. I drove to Minster via the roads on which I head to the office before heading to Manston and then down the crowded, crowded by parked cars, main road into Minster.

I know St Mary’s would be open as Saturday morning is bell ringing practice, and indeed the door was unlocked and inside we could already hear the sound of handbells. A lovely sound for sure. As I hoped, Simon was offered a trip up the belltower, and I think he enjoyed that, although his guide did talk rather a lot, and it was this that caused us to be late for our next church.



Pugin’s church in Ramsgate is the ultimate work by Britain’s leading church architect of the Victorian era, and is little know I think in the local area. We arrived at twenty to twelve only to find preparations being made for midday mass. Simon rushed round getting shots, until I suggested that we could return in the afternoon. He agreed and so we headed back to the car and the half hour drive home for lunch.

Simon ponders on the shots he has already obtained, and so is happy with these and suggests a change for the afternoon: lets go to the Marsh. That’s the Romney Marsh. So, I could think of no reason not to, and many of the churches I had not visited for some time, I agreed.



The promised afternoon sunshine still had not arrived when we set off, along the M20 to and then along the tortuous coast road to Hythe, Romney and on towards Rye. We stopped off in Pedlinge, New Romney, Old Romney, Lydd before heading into East Sussex and to the almost unknown marsh church at East Guldford.

The church at New Romney I had not been to before, as was a surprise as it was so large and the fact than in travelling along the coast road for some seven years I had failed to notice the church tower in the town. How is that even possible?

Next us was Old Romney, which I had been to before, but had been locked. That was really a delight, reminded me very much of the church at Stelling, although Old Romney had more character, but then it had many more visitors.

I had been to Lydd before, and it is rumoured to be the longest parish church in England at 199 feet. It is certainly large enough to be a cathedral, and is an impressive experience for sure.

It is a short drive from there across the marshes to East Guldford across the border in Sussex, and it was as wonderful as I remembered, and thankfully Simon thought pretty much the same of it as did I. It is a delight, and a scandal that it is not better known, but then it is marked by a small sign on the main road, between two corners which offer no warning. Even I knew it was there and yet still managed to overshoot it and had to find a place to turn round.



There was time to call in at Fairfield on the way to Ivychurch, and as the clouds had parted the sight of it in the middle of the marsh, and if you compose the shot properly, you could not include any other man-made objects making it seem even more remote.

In the end, the last church was Ivychurch as the clock now neared five in the afternoon. It was another one I have visited years ago, but was locked, and it too was open for us. Ivychurch is another, after Lydd, a self-proclaimed ‘cathedral of the marsh,’ but is much less grand, indeed only a small portion of it is used as a church, one of the aisles is an agricultural museum, and much of the rest is just bare floors.

Time then to head home for dinner. I had bought huge steaks that morning, and so I cooked them in the evening after preparing them in the way Queen Delia describes. Jools went to the chippy for chips, and I popped open a bottle of fine wine to go with it.

As it got dark we sat outside watching the shadows lengthen and the bats come out to hunt for flies. Somehow I had managed to see out the day, despite feeling like shit, coughing like a barking dog and occasionally sneezing. I drank a couple of large whiskies to make the coming of sleep easier.

So ended a church filled day.