Saturday 3rd March 2018

I did at least sleep like a log. Which meant I did feel better in the morning, or better than I had for a while. I still had a cough, but not quite as bad, and I felt that I would rather break the cabin fever than give in to feeling like crap.

After coffee we go to tesco to fill up on stuff, the shop is pretty quiet, and is well stocked, even milk and bread. The news had been full of stories of panic buying, but we got everything we wanted, including wine and croissants, so returned home to unpack and have breakfast.

Jools works in Hythe all week, and I work in the house all week (when not ill) and so I want to spend the weekends out of the house, and Jools really wants to spend at least part of the weekend at home. Sometimes she comes out churchcrawling or orchid chasing, sometimes I go out by myself. Yesterday it was the latter, and with snow still thick on the ground, even though a thaw had set in, I wasn't planning on being out for long.

The penultimate stage of the grand tour of the Nailbourne was north of LIttlebourne when the stream, now the Little Stour meanders to Wickhambreaux, past two old mills and then onwards onto the marshes where it joins the Great Stour.

It was a pleasant drive over the Kent snowfields, past the occasional drift to Wigham and then west to Canterbury before reaching Littlebourne. Taking the road that runs beside the Little Stour, though the village and out onto the marshes to Wickhambreaux.

I park opposite the pub, a fine place called The Rose, though two hours from opening on this crisp morning. I take a few shots of the village before walking to the church.

St Giles is a fine looking church, the porch approached down an avenue of pollarded trees, now bare of leaves and fruit, of course, but casting shapes against the blue sky. The church was open, and filled with great things to see. There is some fine wall paintings, not old ones, but nice all the same. The East Window, John Vigar tells me, is early American Art Nouveau and very impressive, would have been better on a brighter day.

A short drive away is Ickham, another fine looking village, but not on the Little Stour, it has a fine pub, The Duke William, a more modern place, but with great food, and another good church too, approached across a green lines with wooden storehouses, a most unusual setting.

I had visited both churches before, twice before, but both benefited from a third, with my new found experience, so I took many shots, and once done. I decided that with it getting towards midday, I was hungry, so made my way back to Wingham, then to Sandwich and home, back in time for half twelve. Jools said she fancied pizza for lunch, and who am I to argue, so pop two in the ovens and soon we are sitting down to eat with beer/cider.

Not many games survived the weather outside the Prem, including City's game at Barnsley, so I sat on the sofa to listen to the early game, joined by Molly who laid beside me, and I promptly slept for nearly two hours.

At seven we go to collect John, then drive to Jen's for a night of cards and party food. It has been a month since we last did this, and was great fun. Heck, Jools and I won the pot of pennies and felt like millionaires. Snow had given over to rain, and there was very little show left outside. And when we left Jen's just before midnight, the waning moon was shining down brightly.

Heck it is March already.