Sunday 28th February 2016

Saturday

How pleasant it is to report that the weekend had some fine weather in store for us in East Kent, so instead of sitting around the house, listening to the radio, we were to go out into the big outside world and do some snapping. And that snapping would involve some churches. It has been some weeks since we did any church chasing, so, after consulting my list, maps I came up with a coule to go to look at and snap. And if I was lucky, they might even be open.

However, as regular readers would realise, before we did the fun stuff, there would have to be shopping. Not much stuff we wanted, but milk and eggs at least, so once the heating switching on at seven, I was up and getting ready to go out. I go to Sainsbury's for the few bits and pieces we need, and somehow manage to spend nearly fifty quid. How did that happen? Anyway, I seem to find some party food for us to feat on that evening, all spring rolls and prawn toast, which saves spending hours in front of the cooker. I load up the car and drive back home, unloading and packing the shopping away before making a fine breakfast of fresh coffee and fresh seed covered rolls smothered with butter and apricot jam. Lovely.

At half nine we are ready to go out, I check the cameras for batteries and memory cards. All set, here we go.

I have now visited something like 225 Kent churches, most of which I have been inside, and for the most part, to find a previously unvisited church means traveling further and further afield. But, consulting the map and lists, I see a couple between Dover and Canterbury that might be worth a look, then there is the old Leper Hospital in Canterbury, and finally an estate chapel back nearer to Sandwich. I had done a search on the web for the church's postcodes. We have the sat nav, Jools programs the first one in, and off we go.

It feels great to be churching again, and it also feels wonderful that the weather is so bright on a Saturday, as the white clouds overhead threaten to part and allow full sunshine out. Along the A2 to Whitfield then along to Lydden, turning off past the motocross circuit, down along narrow lanes, through woodland until we enter the village of Wootton, and there on the right was the church.

There is a Wootton in Suffolk, or is it Norfolk? Its near the border anyway, and there it is pronounced without using either of the letter 't's. Asking Jools she said it was pretty much the same in Kent too. St Martin is set in woodland, partially obscured by trees and would almost be invisible from the road in summer. We take the single parking space outside, I grab the cameras then walk to the door, turn the handle and find it open.

Win!

Indside it a fine village parish church, the chancel has some fine tiles, in the nave there are some simple wooden pews, illuminated by plain glass windows. I go round getting my shots, ending up with some wide angle shots of the exterior. That done, we set sail for our next destination, Swingfield.

Swingfeld is situated on the Folkestone to Canterbury road, and had strong links with the Knights Templar and Knights Hospitaller. On the main road there is a large fortified barn, which I have to see inside, but in the village is a surprisingly large church, build of reddish stone with a fine tower and an internal spiral staircase visible from the outside.

We park on the side of the lane, outside the former village pub, now a substantial house. Looking at the church, it looked locked, and in the porch I could see a 'church open' sign, folded away which suggested it would be an unlucky call for me. However, the door opened after struggling with the ancient handle, so we walk inside.

For a church with such historical links with chivalric orders, it is a plain church inside, with few memorials, and just a simple printed sign bearing a dedication to The Order of St John. But I snap it from all angles, and again outside too. I put a couple of quid in the collection box and take a couple of the books for sale too, two Dickens volumes of short stories depicting every day life in Britain.

I noticed inside the church that Swingfield was linked to Denton, and Denton was a place I knew well, not least its where the cats are lodged when we go on our holibobs, but I had not seen to church there, so it being just 5 minutes away, we make tracks retracing our tyre tacks to the main road and onto Denton.

St Mary Magdelen is situated on an estate, and to gain access you have to turn down the drive to the country house, put there was just enough space in the entrance to a field to park so Jools and I could set out across the meadow to the copse which also contained the small church. The sun was out, and in the wood I could see a carpet of snowdrops, bobbing in the breeze; a perfect location for a church, and I was transfixed.

It was a two minute walk across the meadow, the path lined with daffodils, not yet open, through an ornamental gate to the church door, and found it again unlocked. It was turning out to be a good day already. Inside it is another plain estate church, decorated with memorials, some grand, to the great and good of the nearby house. It is a fine welcoming church, good glass. I really liked it, although it has been renovated during Victorian times, it retained some character. I liked it, and was the church of the day, if there were such a thing.

Our next destination was the other side of Canterbury, a chapel for a hospital for lepers. I had tried to find it a few weeks back, but there weing Harbledown and Upper Harbeldow, I went to Upper when I should have gone in the other direction. It was a 20 minute drive there, but with the radio on, time went quick, but we did avoid the sat nav's route through Canterbury, a longer way, but saving half an hour.

We park in a steep road, opposite the village pub, up some steps the other side and through a short passageway took us to the hospital, but it was clear this was going to be one that was locked, but a sign said visits could be arranged with the Dean beforehand. We look round, and I take a couple of shots of the exterior of the church before we decide where to go next.

As it happens, there was another church a two minute walk up the hill, the parish church, we saw the graveyard when we turned the car round. So, we walk up the hill to see what we could find. A village church, but in quite a urban setting now meant it would probably be locked; I was right, it was locked, but the extensive graveyard was well kept, with many interesting grave markers. I take shots, then we walk back to the car, with just the one church on the list left.

I had visited Knowlton a few years back, but the approach is down a wide driveway to a large country estate. It felt wrong, so my nerve went and I turned round. But a little investigating showed the chapel to be run they the Church Conservation Trust, and would be open ten to four each day.

After a pleasant drive through the rolling Kentish countryside, we arrive at the crossroads, turn towards the country house. Jools is as spooked as I was last time but I tell her not to worry. As we reach the house, we turn left, then a sharp right, and sure enough I see the corner of the former estate chapel.

There is a place to park opposite, I get the cameras and we walk up to the door, which opens easily. Inside it is lit by two simple chandeliers, powered by electricity, which saved lighting candles! There are grand memorials to the former masters and mistresses of the house, Knowlton Court, including the D'aeth family. So now I had found where death was buried, would we live forever? Maybe not.

I get the shots, then looking at my watch I see it is half twelve, well past lunchtime, so instead of going to a local pub, we decide to come home for cheese and crackers.

Those of you who know me, will know that the rest of the day was spent reviewing photographs, listening to the football on the radio, then some Nordic Noir.

Norwich were playing the league leaders, Leicester, and it was close run thing, with it being 0-0 until the very last minute when a lapse in concentration at the back let The Foxes in for the winning goal. I swore. Loudly.

England played Ireland in the egg chasing, a good game, in which England took their chances, and Ireland were unlucky as they were denied a certain try by the referee, then a last moment tackle by an England back denied them the two tries that would have given them the win.

Finally, it was Trapped; more intrigue, more layers, more suspects, more snow. Great.