Saturday 31st March 2018

The last day of winter.

Although, as Prince tells us, sometimes it snows in April, not much. And even if the weather is still chilly, the plants are waking up and growing like crazy. As so are weeds, but then the Don says if the ground is warm enough for weeds, then its warm enough for the plants we love.

For this, the last day of March, the lull before the orchid madness begins, I am spending at least the morning how I have spent most Saturdays this year; visiting churches and taking lots of photographs.

We get up and do the usual chores of the early morning. Jools feeds the cats and I make coffee. Of course, we need groceries, so having made the list during the week, we load the car with bags and ourselves just before eight to make the short drive to Whitfield, and getting our zapper.

So begins the weekly ritual of hunter-gathering where Tesco try to find what we need in a new place. I'm sure its a game to get us to see stuff we didn't realise we wanted to buy.

We are out by quarter to nine, but already time is short as I have to be at a church at half nine. So, we rush home, put the shopping away, warm croissants up and make coffee. And I am ready to go at quarter past nine, ready for the short drive back to Coldred.

We went last week to Coldred, a little church set in an ancient defensive earthwork, the area had been occupied by Romans, hence the dedication of the church to the unusual St Pancras. As I parked I could see the warden looking out for me, as I had taken the unusual step of sending mails and arranging a time to be here, so to be sure of getting inside. I had taken exterior shots last week, so was able to go straight inside and after the introductions and chat, I was able to get the shots.

I had visited St Pancras before, one summer Sunday afternoon in 2009. I remembered little of it, just the wooden roof really. So this time I drank in the details, making sure I shot everything. And trying not to get in the way as they did the flower arrangements for the Easter Service on Sunday.

Truth is, St Pancras is a small church, looking good having been recently painted, but in about 15 minutes I ran out of things to snap, so I big my farewells and took my leave of the wardens.

Jools had said I should go back to Great Mongeham as it is likely that most churches will be being prepared. I had already visited three times in the last month and found it locked and the keyholder not answering her door. I found out later she had been on her holidays and was mortified that I could not get inside the church. I tried to say it was no issue, but still.

There was no parking at the church, and there were cars in the churchyard, meaning it was almost certainly open. I had to park out on the main road, hoping that the two cars that passed me as I walked back to the church did not have the keys.

I need not have worried, there were at least 6 people working in the church, maybe more. Tidying, dusting and doing flower arrangements. It looked wonderful.

I again tried not to get in the way, so went round getting my shots and soaking up the details. I was also accompanied by the warden who knew the history, and pointed out more items of interest.

But for a large church, I don't seem to have taken many shots, but I was happy I had it all. So again I said goodbye to my new friends.

Saturday, I sorted through shots and folders of shots of the churches in my Flickr photostream, and in doing so I realised some churches had been better covered than others. One with very few shots was Fordwich.

Fordwich likes to call itself England's smallest town, although this a disputed fact by several other small towns. Fordwich is stretched out along a winding and narrow street from the bridge over the Stour up the valley, and was once the main port for Canterbury, especially in the days before the Wantsum Channel silted up, the seas was just a few hundred yards away.

It has the church, two good pubs, though I fear one has closed, a town hall on stilts, and the church.

To get there without braving the Canterbury ring road involved going along country lanes, but the chance to call in at the butcher at Preston, before ending up going down the narrow lane that leads down the Stour valley, heck, I even found a parking space near the church, and there was the very welcoming sight of a "church open" sign at the gate.

The church is open, and empty in that I have it to myself, meaning I go round getting my shots, seeing what I missed in September 2009 I think it was, and I missed lots.

And that was that, back home the same way I came: Littlebourne, Wingham, Sandwich and to Dover, arriving home at half twelve, just in time to make lunch and brew up.

And then listen to the end of Huey before getting bored with Liz so switching over to the football, retiring to the sofa to rest my eyes. After all, we have a long evening of international level cards to prepare for.

Jools drops me off at Jen's and goes to pick up John. So we set up the table and chairs, get the drinks ready whilst Midsummer Murders booms out from the living room as her mUm watches, though doesn't really understand what is going on.

And we're off, playing, chatting and drinking. And laughing, telling stories, it is all rather pleasant I have to say. We end up even I guess, and leave just before midnight so we don't turn into pumpkins. There is a large nearly full moon above us, guiding us the way home.