Saturday 21st January 2017

As I have said before, some days I feel more inclined to write than on others, and when I don't feel well on a day after when I also did not feel well, and all I did was work from home on the dining room table, then the posts will get a little samey, I guess. And for you, dear readers, you might wonder why I bother. I guess it has become a habit, and not all days will be dull and boring, others will be more interesting. And with that in mind, I can tell you we are about to go into two weeks away, and then if I'm lucky, a week off. So plenty to look forward to, even if this week as been a bit whiny.

Last weekend, I spent Saturday and Sunday sorting through my Flickr account, creating sub-folders for each Kentish church, and in doing so, I found that some of the shots from the churches I visited on the Grain Peninsula were not as good as they should have been. So I suggested to Jools we visit the area, and she was more than happy, as villages on the edge of the Thameside marshes is unusual, and other-worldly. And with no shopping to do, we could set off fairly early.

Even if in reality we, or rather I was, slow in getting ready, but we loaded the car and pulled out of the driveway at just before half seven, turning down Station Road and then towards Dover through Westcliffe. Passing along the twisting road, we come across a buzzard, just sitting on a hedgerow beside the road, almost within touching distance, but we were past it before realising, and certainly no chance for a shot. Along the A2, we pass two more buzzards, just sitting beside the road, maybe waiting for the day to warm up and thermals to begin to rise? I don't know.

Along past Canterbury, in traffic that seemed to be in a hurry, but we keep to the speed limit, and soon turn onto the motorway, driving west past Faversham towards the Medway towns, across the river itself before taking the main road towards Grain.

Traffic was light, and anyway, we turned off at the first junction, taking the road towards Higham, and the first church.

Higham is a large village now, with a modern centre some way away from the ancient church of St Mary. The Victorians built a new church near the new centre, and St Mary just slept on the edge of the marshes. Higham is an ancient village, once at the end of a ferry service to Essex, accessible along a wide Roman road, which joined up with Watling Street to the south. In the 19th century, Charles Dickens moved here,a nd the opening part of Great Expectations was set (probably) in Higham's churchyard, so close as it is to the marshes. The reference to the lozenge-shaped graves almost certainly is a reference to nearby Cooing church, were there are the graves of two adults with 13 grave markers for children. Not that all the children might be of those adults, but still it is a chilling reminder of how hard life must have been.

Now St Mary lies at the end of a long dead end lane, overlooking the fields that have been made after draining the marshes. The River Thames is some way away now, and the branch line to Grain passes between the church and river, meaning we got a good view of the church as we trundled past at the end of last year.

The church is under the care of the Church Conservation Trust, so I know it will be open, even arriving before ten. We take the lane from the village centre, driving down the side of the shallow slope leading to the marshes, and the church.

It is a fabulous location, just a handful of houses now shelter around the church, and the lane ends with a gate leading to a small field and the railway beyond. We park and get the camera gear together, now armed with the wide zoom, I can get the shots I want inside, without blurring, and indeed, I do get them. In fact I see so many more details this time round, and enjoy the church more so, mainly becasue there are no creepy scarecrows around. You had to be there.

We look round the churchyard to see if we can find relatives of a friend of mine; we don't, but as usual remark on the cluster of family markers, or an unusual name or two.

A short drive away is Cliffe.

Cliffe is interesting as it shares the name of a part of our village, but to avoid confusion between the two, ours is now called Westcliffe. Cliffe is another large village, with a green with shops on two sides, all seem to be well used. THere is traffic calming barriers all along the main road, which must work as it seems to take ages to get to St Helens.

In visiting nearly 300 churches in Kent, St Helen's is probably the most striking and beautiful, layered as it is with black flint and white stone, making it look like a huge decorated cake. And this is accentuated on a bright sunny day, as the sun sparkles off the black flint, and the church contrasts of the deep blue sky behind. It also looks over the rover, and I guess that in earlier times the river was much closer to the village as dies now, because bodies that used to flat down the Thames from London, used to wash ashore here, needing the building of a Charnel House to house the found bodies. Not that that happens now of course.

When I walk into the church, I am met by a warden who made me very welcome indeed. Since my last visit the threat of the Boris Island airport has gone, but now there is the chance of a new Thames Crossing, which might be built from Grain over to Essex. There is always something. And either the airport or new crossing will turn what is now the quietest corner of Kent into a place of great movement and shatter the peace and quiet forever. But then that is the price of progress.

The church itself, is impressive. In several places wall paintings either depicting stories of the saints, or geometric patterns on the columns are still easily visible, showing that the Puritans weren't always good at erasing the imagery of the past. I take shots again, and once again see many more details, so snap just about all of it. And I think had we not made our excuses and left then, we might have still been there, chatting about parish life on the edge of the river.

Our next target, my target, was Allhallows, a small village beside the main road leading to Grain. We drive along narrow lanes until we come to the village, and between 90 degree bends sits All Saints, a small but attractive ancinet church. Sadly, despite the new information board, listing all the wonderful things to see inside the church, I found it locked fast. I looked round to see if my presence had been noticed. But no. So I take a couple of record shots, go back to the car.

Once final call was Stoke. Not Stoke on Trent, but the trio of small villages on the other side of the main road, Middle, Lower and Upper. Ss Peter and Paul is in Upper Stoke, and is another ancient church whose Victotianisation mean it is hard to judge its age. I walk up the icy path, and to no surprise, I find it locked too. So, I take more record shots, and call it a day.

I could have taken Jools to more churches, I had had my eye on one in the Medway Valley, but with it being half twelve, we were hungry, so I drive us to High Halstow, site of another church I had visited on a previous visit, but this to call in at the Red Dog for a pint and a bite to eat.

It is friendly enough, so we share nachos and a bowl of onion rings. And that has filled us up, so, once we had drunk up, we walk back to the car and drive home.

We drive back to the motorway and retrace our tyre tracks back east, past Sittingbourne, Faversham and Canterbury, arriving home just after two, just in time to hear the end of the Liverpool v Swansea game, to which I find Swansea were 3-2 up with ten minutes to go. And that's the way it stayed.

City were to play Wolves, and I gave them little chance. So it comes as no surprise to hear they won 3-1, scoring the penalty after the Wolves' keeper had been sent off.

In the evening, we went to the Swingate to meet with Breesha who had left where Jools works, so it was a chance to catch up. I and her partner, James, were mostly quiet as office gossip was swapped as we ordered and ate spicy Indian food.

It was a good night, the food great, and for an evening

after Christmas, was packed, with many people waiting for a table to become free.

And that is it, time to go home, puton my dressing gown and watch the football on C5, just because we hadn't lost. A good day.