Saturday 17th February 2018

Welcome to the weekend.

As Jools had done shopping, we had croissants and bacon in the house, no need to go shopping, so we could lay in bed snoozing. Or would have if our brains would let us. Mine was full of the possibilities of a day of churchcrawling. Heck, I had even made a list of targets, charged the camera batteries, formatted memory cards. I was all set.

We have croissants and a second coffee, this is because after my first coffee, I went up to the spare room to do another session on the cross trainer. We are both still at it, doing a session when we can. I have to say, the ip pods decision to play U2 for the workout brought repeated use of the skip button.

After breakfast, a shower, and we could go out. First up was a diversion to Preston to see the guys, to drop off some shoarma spice I bought for Mark, and while we were there, may as well have some lamb to shoarmaise that night for dinner.

It was a glorious day, the early morning frost gave way to clear blue skies and endless sunshine, which warmed the day until it got to double digits, and heck, could be almost described as warm.

From Preston we went north to the Thanet Way, and then along to Faversham before heading out into the boondocks to Doddington.

Doddington might be just a handful of miles from Faversham, but it seems remote; criss-crossed with narrow lanes, through fields and woods, up and down hills and downs. And all of it, in the warm golden glow of warm sunshine. Jools had been unsure about a day of churchcrawling, but I mean, who could not love being out and about in the Garden of England on a fine early spring morning?

Doddington sits in a lush valley, with the church up on the down among trees to the north. It is a 13th century building, largely untouched and "improved" by the Victorians. It has a freshly painted clapboard bellcots, and the nave and chancel are pretty much as was hundreds of years ago, but the walls lined with memorials to the local landed gentry.

It is a fine church, lots of interesting things to see or discover. It has the oldest image of St Francis in England, possibly painted by someone who was alive at the same time as the saint.

Even better is in the chuchyard, it has been turned "nature friendly", or at least she is encouraged. So, the grass was covered by a carpet of snowdrops, all looking wonderful in the bright sunshine, and mixed in were some Winter Aconites and a few Primroses already in flower too.

I also see a butterfly. I miss it at first, just a shadow flitting across my vision, but then it clicked: a BUTTERFLY! so I set off in chase, and it lands to feed on some snowdrops. It is flighty, but also hungry. I am hungry for shot, so I shoot at will. It is a female Red Admiral, looking in good nick.

On Friday I had followed the road out of the village out of the village, and found a series of churches, all apparently parish churches, and still in use. But, as we use the sat nav to find each church, I get the camera gear out, take the exterior shots, then go to the porch, try the door and all were locked. Damn and double damn.

One after the other we drive to, down narrow lanes that weaved through parkland of various once great country houses, to a small village scattered around a green, and a small lint church in the corner, only to find it locked. What made up for it at several of them was the snowdrops, aconites and other spring flowers, all looking amazing in the sunshine.

We had had enough, so began to look for a place for lunch. Village after lunch revealed pubs with overflowing car parks, with no spaces. We come to one in the end, in a small village in the fold of land in the down, the main road lead to a flint castle on the hill above, and down to Maidstone in the valley below. We took the last parking space and went inside, ordered ham sandwiches, which came with free cheese, chips and a side salad. We sat on milk churns at a table and make lunch and our drinks disappear.

And that was it, time to drive home, try to avoid the jams, listen to Huey on the radio, and generally enjoy the sunshine.

Norwich did not play until Sunday, more on that in the next post, bso once home I make coffee then sort through the shots, listen half-heartedly to the games on, FA Cup 5 round games, but it means far less now than it used to.

I make shoarma and chips for dinner, and we make that disappear too.

Jools had volunteered to sit with Betty whilst John and Jen went out to see a show, meaning I was home alone. She left at half seven, leaving me alone with Only Connect, the football highlights and a Bee Gees documentary, which was far more entertaining than it had the right to be. I also had all three cats, meaning I had to feed them when they demanded it, but they are all so marvelous, and Molly now looking like a healthy adult cat again, its hard to imagine that was has ever been anything different, let alone so recently.