Thursday 22nd January 2015

Wednesday.

Midweek.

Hump Day.

And a day on which I bunked off. I don't know where you're from, but where I grew up, the term was bunking off. Bunking off meant doing something else other than going to school. Or work. And after working last Saturday, well travelling back from Hamburg until after midday, and I will be travelling again next Sunday, I thought I would claw back some time. I informed my manager, and he understood. So, all was set.

The plan was to head to London to visit a church I tried at least three times before to get inside, only to find it shut, or a service about to start. So, that and a return to one other at which I had my camera on the wrong settings, and so the pictures were not good. And I arranged, maybe, to meet with a couple of friends for photography and/or beer.

I thought I would catch a bus into town, then walk to the station. Simple. Only, that thanks to the fire and associated problems in the Channel Tunnel there was a massive backlog of traffic trying to get to the port, and after Jools called me after she arrived at work saying she thought that the buses might be affected. Therefore, I decided to walk to Martin Mill down the hill, and catch the train from there, now that they run to St Pancras from there now.



Last week they changed all the train times, and which stations they stop at; so after years of knowing what time a train left either Dover or London, all is confusion once again. Anyway, getting to London would be simple, all I had to do is survive the walk to the station. You see, Station Road, as the name suggests, runs from the middle of the village to the station in Martin Mill. So, walk down the hill to the station, no? Yes, and no. You see, from the top of the hill all the way down to where Station Road crosses the Deal road and beyond to the station it has no pavement, and for the most part, there are steep banks and hedges on either side, so you have to hope that a car or bus driver would see you and overtake you with plenty of room. Or not.

So, leaving 40 minutes for the walk, I leave the house, returning to take the key out of the back door. The first part is fine as I walk the rest of the small estate on the side of the hill, but past the last road, the footpath runs out, and so I have to walk in the road. For the most part it was OK, just one female Mini driver going past we leaving less than a couple of inches between me and the car's wing mirror. Oh well. Then came the really hard part was crossing the main Deal Road, at the junction with Station Road, avoiding not only the cars travelling along the main road, but the cars turning out of either part of Station Road. In the end I walk in front of a van turning as he failed to bother to indicate, so told him so as he went past.

But, I was across the main road, heading down the rest of the dip to the station, arriving with 15 minutes to spare before the departure time. The ticket office was manned, so I got my cheap day return, and took a seat on the platform to wait for the train.

It was at least a dry day, if not warm. I have both a fleece and my double thick work pullover on, a combo I will come to regret by the end of the day. However, I was warm, and enjoying just being on a railway platform, hoping that maybe a loco-hauled railhead train might come down the bank from Guston. But no

.

On time, the train arrived, I set a forward facing seat on the left hand side, ideal for looking out to sea after passing through Dover, looking down the Harbour Branch at Folkestone, the traffic on the M20, traffic on the Dartford bridge and freight locos at the Ford plant in Dagenham. I am happy with my obsession. I admit that.

I sat back and enjoyed the trip, which apart from the familiar journey from Dover to Stratford, now I can go from Martin Mill, so get great views over Dover as we come out of Guston Tunnel and weave round Buckland as we descend to the junction and on into Priory. It is a real pleasure, to see the house backing onto the line, and sound of the wheels as they scrape and screech against the checkrails. Apart from a slow part due to a signal failure between Folkestone and Ashford, it was much the same journey as ever on the high speed service. And being the first post-rush hour service, it was pretty full.



We arrived at St Pancras some 15 minutes late, but I have nothing to do other than to wander round churches, taking photos and hopefully meeting friends, drinking beer, as you do.



I walk to the tube station and take a Norther Line train (details are important) to Bank, then take the passageway to Monument, emerging into the light drizzle with the Monument itself before me, and to the right, The Walkie Talkie towering over everything. It also appears to be a building site, but down the hill I see the tower of St Magnus the Martyr, a church, which for me, has almost legendary status; would it be open this time? So, I walk down the hill, cross over Lower hames Street, and there is the entrance, I look insode and see the doors are open and so, I can go in.



St Magnus stands on what was the approach to the Old London Bridge, yes the one with all the houses and shops on it, which was demolished in 1825, so the roan road across the river used to pass right by the door to the church, and inside a scale model of the church sits in a glass cabinet. It is the most wonderous thing, and such a shame that the bridge did not survive today, because it would have been incredible to have an 800 year old bridge in the city. But the bridge featured very small spans, and restricted traffic upstream of it, so it had to go. Halfway across it, a chapel dedicated to St Thomas was built, it must have been a fine sight.



Anyway, I have the church to myself for a while, so I grab some shots of the interior, before focus on the memorials and windows. It really is a wonderful church, apparently quite 'high', as it has many icons and models of the Madonna and child, as well as a figure of St Magnus. A party of walkers and their guide comes in, so I get my last shots, gather up my stuff and walk back up the hill to the tube station to make the short trip along the Embankment to Mansion House, where I think a short walk will take me to the top of Fleet Street.

In the end it works out even better, as another church I wanted to visit was St Martin in Ludgate, I look at the map at Mansion House station and see if I pass by St Paul's, St Martin's will be in front of me. And that is what happened, I walk past St Paul's, the stationary traffic passing by it, caused by some road works, me going quicker than the traffic. As it usual in London.



St Martin was open, and once again I had the church to myself, so I go in, take off my coat, and get to work getting pictures. St Martin's is a wonderful church, square and supported by classical beams. I love the open and airy feeling it brings to the church.



I walk on heading towards Fleet Street starts, and walk down past St Bride's and on the other side sits St Dunstan in the West, about the most westerly of the city churches. It is octagonal inside, and is used by the Romanian Orthodox church, which gives it a magical air, but due to the overcast day, it is dark once again inside, I get better pictures, but another visit is required.

I had planned to meet up with fellow church and orchid enthusiast, Henry, but he called me earlier to say he couldn't make it due to work. The night before I saw that my old Sgt from the RAF was in town, I gave him the address of a pub I liked and I said I would meet him at one if he was free. The George sits on The Strand, and is timber-framed, has lots of room and the food and beer is good. It is also opposite the Royal Courts of Justice, so there are few pubs with fine views. Indeed, behind, the ancient area of the Inns of the Court are behind, so the legal profession is all around.

I take a seat, order a bowl of pumpkin soup and a pint of Guinness and wait to see if Dave will arrive. 40 minutes pass, and no Dave, so as I leave I update Facebook to say I was leaving. Apparently we must have passed each other on The Strand, but I check Facebook again after I had passed through the Inns of the Court, so say I will go back to meet, and once I get back inside the pub there is a pint of ale waiting and there is Dave.

We catch up, swapping news on us and friends, an hour quickly passes, then he realises he has a plane to catch in 90 minutes,, he has to rush off, and I am alone again. Once last thing to do is to return to Baker Street to take some more shots, this time with my 'proper' camera.

So I walk through the Inns of the Courts once again to Temple Station, take a circle line train back round past Kings Cross to Baker Street. I get out, take a whole batch of shots, and climb on a train heading back towards Kings Cross where I could walk to St Pancras for my train home.

I get my shots of Baker Street, it is crowded by is unlike almost any other station in that it feels like a surface station. Anyway, no time to wait, as i am in a hurry to get a seat on the train back home. So, back three stops to Kings Cross/St Pancras, up to the station, through the stunning station to the Southeastern platforms. I have enough time to grab a coffee froma stall that has been set up there before we are allowed onto the train ready for the trip home.

The train fills up, I close my eyes, and dead on time, we glide out into the London dusk, disappearing into the tunnel beneath London. By the time we emerge at Dagenham, it is almost dark, with only the red tail lights of the jam on the A13 showing.

I arrive back at Martin Mill at six, Jools is waiting, its been a long day and I have had several beers, so Jools goes out to get fish and chips whilst I attempt to butter some bread. Yay beer!